Deathbed Confessions of the Criminally Insane

by Jack Steen

  He rolled his eyes.

  “You expect to make millions off me, don’t you? You’re gonna sell my story to the press?”

  I laughed. A real belly laugh that filled the room and had the Ken doll wincing.

  “You’d love that wouldn’t you? Becoming famous?”

  I could see he would. It’s what he always wanted, dreamed about, wished for. I could see the desire in the way he looked at me and I loved knowing I held all the cards right now.

  Does that make me an asshole?

  I think we’ve already established that, haven’t we?

  “Guess it all depends on your story, Ken Doll. If it’s good enough, I’ll make sure everyone knows who you are. Lie to me, waste my time and I’ll burn these papers along with your body and drop you in the sewage tank. You’re choice.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Drop me in a pile of shit and call it a day?”

  I shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the worst day of my life.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  “So you’ve said.” I pushed my chair closer. “Are you ready to talk or should I give you more time alone?”

  Ken nodded toward the chaired and wriggled his hands again.

  “Can I at least get these free?”

  I shook my head.

  “Seriously man?” He whined like a little kid.

  “Seriously.” Then I sighed. “Give me the story I want to hear and maybe I’ll give you one hand free.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Ken cheered up with that, a satisfied smile on his face.

  I hid my own.

  Maybe never meant no but it rarely meant yes. You learn that as a child. Maybe meant your parents were’t willing to be kept to a promise. Maybe meant minds can always change. Maybe meant remain on your best behaviour and I may turn a blind eye.

  Maybe meant I was in control and not him.

  “So how are we going to do this?” He asked.

  I sat.

  “It’s simple. You tell me the story however you want to tell it. I’ll write it down. When you’re done, I’ll give you your next dosage.”

  “And then I’ll die.”

  He said it so matter-of-fact, like it was a foregone conclusion.

  “That’s up to you.”

  The look in his eyes then could only be described as a cold calm. There was no doubt, no hesitation about what was going to happen, not from him and in that moment, I’ll admit, I was impressed.

  “All right then.” I set the notepad on my lap and held my pen above the paper, ready to record his story. I preferred to write it then to record it. Things remained in my control then and writing the words down made it more permanent.

  “What’s taking you so long?” I egged him on.

  5

  KEN TO JACK:

  * * *

  You’re an asshole.

  I can’t say it enough. Your name shouldn’t be Jack. It should be Bastard. Fucktard. Asshole.

  You think you know it all, don’t you? That you hold the power over me, over all the other inmates here. You don’t. You never have and you never will.

  I don’t know you the fuck you think you are but you sure as hell aren’t God and not evil enough to be Satan. Which means you’re nothing.

  N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

  I’ll tell you my fucking story. But I don’t need to be medicated after.

  You hear me?

  I don’t want any more goddamned meds.

  I’ll die when I’m good and ready and on my own time.

  I don’t want your help.

  I don’t need your help.

  You’re not the one in control of when I die.

  I am.

  You hear me you asshole? I am.

  Make sure you write that down too.

  I’m in control of my death. Not you. Not the cops. Not my fucking lawyer or doctor. Not my parents and sure as hell not Barbie.

  Me.

  I’m the only one that matters.

  The only one with the power over my life and death.

  MY LIFE. MY DEATH.

  You hear that asshole?

  Write that shit down.

  6

  KEN:

  * * *

  Nothing in my life made sense until I met Barbie.

  Everything was dreary, colorless, empty. Nothing mattered until suddenly it did.

  All because of Barbie.

  I was a busboy at a local diner. Grew up in the middle of nowhere. There were two stop signs in town. One on either side of the highway. You drive through and barely notice the town until you come upon a diner.

  I noticed Barbie the first time she stopped at the diner to use the washroom.

  I was mesmerized the second time when she walked in and sat down in a booth.

  The moment she smiled at me I was lost.

  I started to see in color and was addicted.

  She asked me for directions and I offered to take her there myself. I didn’t think about the next steps or what it meant to leave my job right there and then and leave my father.

  I didn’t care.

  All I saw was Barbie, her smile, her body and the tease of her touch on my skin as she asked me to go on an adventure with her.

  “Will you trust me?”

  Four words she repeated over the course of our adventure together.

  Each time I would answer yes. Just yes.

  Yes, I would trust her.

  Yes, I would go with her.

  Yes, I would fuck the girl we just kidnapped for her pleasure.

  Yes, I would watch while she fucked her too.

  Yes, I would do anything for her. Had done anything. If I could go back, I wouldn’t change a single thing.

  I didn’t even look in the mirror as we drove down the highway, didn’t need that backward glance to say goodbye to a life I’d always hated.

  The moment I joined Barbie, my life started. Until then it was like I was in stasis.

  We traveled.

  We fucked. We drank. We stole and we fucked a whole lot more.

  We broke into homes, stole anything and everything we could find and lived without a care in the world.

  Sometimes we slept in her van. Sometimes in a motel room. Other times we’d find empty farmhouses and stay there.

  After six months of bliss, Barbie got restless.

  She needed more excitement. More risks. More everything.

  We started off small.

  Here’s something no one knew about.

  We found a young couple going at it one night after breaking into their home. We decided to join them.

  Were they willing participants?

  Hell no.

  That didn’t matter though. Not for Barbie.

  First we played with the wife. The husband didn’t quite like what he was hearing, he fought against the restraints for a while until he started to get hard.

  Like real hard.

  They were both blindfolded but that didn’t matter. Not for the husband at least.

  Barbie went over and sucked him dry while I fucked his wife.

  It was a crazy night. God, it was awesome.

  I was scared. I’ll admit it. I was just a kid. Eventually that fear turned into excitement and built up with anticipation until it was all I could think about.

  Even now. I dream about those times. They’re not nightmares. Never nightmares.

  We ran into their room with masks over our faces to hide our identities and I wasn’t sure at first if I could do it.

  Barbie convinced me I could.

  I wasn’t going to let her down.

  By the time we were done having our fun, the couple were unconscious. They never saw our faces so we weren’t worried about being identified and besides, they were just a stop on a trip of a lifetime. We weren’t worried about anyone discovering us.

  Things were different back then. We didn’t have cell phones or social media. We were able to run and hide and never once worried about getting caught.

/>   In fact…we never were.

  7

  KEN TO JACK:

  * * *

  This is the first time I’ve told this story. What did you think?

  I could tell you were a little excited.

  Don’t bother denying it.

  Have you ever had sex with more than one person at a time? Don’t answer if you don’t want to but I can see it in your eyes. If you haven’t, you’ve wanted to.

  You should try it.

  Find someone like Barbie if you can but I doubt you will. You’re not strong enough to make a woman like her happy and satisfied.

  God, she was my world and I miss her.

  We were both sent here and yet from the day we entered to the day she died, we never laid eyes on each other again.

  I know she died loving me. The love we shared…it wasn’t a fire you could put out. Those embers will continue to burn forever. I’m ready to die for one reason and one reason only…because I know Barbie is waiting for me.

  Do you have someone like that in your life, Jack?

  I doubt it. I pity you.

  That’s right. I. Pity. You.

  How does that feel, Jack? Knowing I’m going to die, pitying you?

  There’s no love lost between us, but I think I’m the better man.

  I’ve lived more life than you ever will.

  You’re a lost man within these walls. You should maybe change that. Maybe then you wouldn’t be such an asshole.

  8

  KEN:

  * * *

  Barbie and Ken weren’t the only nicknames given to us.

  We were also known as the Babysitter Killers.

  Kind of disappointing, right? Like they couldn’t come up with something more catchy?

  We were given the label after our third…kill.

  Kill isn’t the right word to use.

  There was more, so much more to those experiences. There were fourteen girls we met, enjoyed, loved and breathed in their last breath.

  Oh that breath. It was important for Barbie to inhale the girls essence right at the very end.

  The first death was the most important one for us.

  Each girl was special. But the first girl though…she was a memory maker.

  Everything we did after her, was because of her.

  There’s a lot that people know about Barbie and I.

  I was the small farm town boy in love with the tough city girl.

  She was the leader. I was the muscle.

  We enjoyed life to the fullest. Almost careless but always careful.

  We were smart. We’d fenced a lot of great items that brought in good money and Barbie wasn’t a spender.

  For those not familiar with our story here’s a brief recap.

  We never preselected the towns we would stay in and we never stayed in a town for longer than six months. We would drive all over the place, take random roads, stop in random towns. We’d pick up the local papers, read the message boards at the grocers and if there were houses to let, we’d take it.

  We’d get to know the neighbors. We’d play designated roles, two love birds trying to make a life together, a couple on the run from disapproving families - it didn’t matter as long as people never suspected who we really were.

  We never changed our features. Barbie always had long blond hair. Mine was always slightly shaggy. Where was the fun in disguising ourselves?

  After getting to know the people around us a little, Barbie would mention her baby sister was coming to stay with us and we’d need a sitter from time to time. We’d get introduced to a few and take our time getting to know them.

  We wanted them to feel comfortable with us.

  Hell, Barbie would even treat the girls to ice cream or buy them new clothes. She did anything and everything to come across as sisterly.

  It always worked.

  Always.

  Why wouldn’t it? People trusted us. They liked us.

  This was small town living at its finest.

  Barbie wanted to stay away from cities. She preferred small town living. Preying upon the friendly neighbors and farmers offered her a thrill she couldn’t get in a big city where everyone locked their doors and eyed strangers with skepticism.

  No. She liked the small town mindset.

  Personally I didn’t care where we went, as long as she had a smile on her face, a dance in her step and loved me till the end of time.

  Sappy, right?

  She was my addiction.

  Her addiction…well, that was more complicated.

  Addictions always have a beginning. That beginning can seem innocent enough at the time.

  An alcoholic never starts with the intention of being addicted. They took one sip. Go through one crisis. Realize things don’t hurt as much the more they drink.

  All it takes is one step to destroy the perfect life.

  Or one step toward that perfect life you’ve always seemed.

  For me, leaving that diner and following Barbie, that was a step I will never regret taking.

  I don’t care that it landed me here.

  I don’t care that the majority of my life I lived behind bars. Or that I haven’t laid eyes on the woman I love more than life for too many years to count.

  I don’t care that people had to die in order for us to be happy.

  9

  KEN TO JACK:

  * * *

  What?

  That doesn’t surprise you?

  I was expecting at least a little response from you. A hesitation in the movement of the pen, a quick look up, disgust on your face.

  Something.

  Ah, Jack. Come on now, don’t play like that with me.

  I thought we had an agreement between us.

  No lies. No deceit. Nothing but complete honesty.

  You know I’m not a good man.

  I have no conscious. No little angel sitting on my shoulder.

  Well, okay. Maybe I do have a little angel if fallen angels count.

  But that demon doesn’t tell me to do anything I didn’t want to do in the first place. More like encourages me, if you will.

  Barbie was in charge. I’m man enough to admit it.

  Would I have done any of the things we did if she weren’t in my life?

  Fuck no. I was a small farm boy until I met her. I worked in a diner as a bus boy for beer money and knew the best I could do in life was to sit behind a tractor and hope for my own farm one day.

  She was the one who showed me I could do so much more with my life.

  And she was right.

  I enjoyed every single moment of what we did.

  I loved killing them.

  Got off on taking from them what they wouldn’t give me.

  Did I rape them? Hell, yes. Why would I try to deny that?

  I had every intention of it too.

  * * *

  JACK HERE: I had to edit out this section folks. There’s nothing honorable about a man getting off on rape.

  * * *

  Now, I know you don’t want me using real names or real towns but how about this…I’m gonna give you both a town name and the girl’s name and one of them will be a lie. Or maybe they’ll both be the truth.

  It’s up to you to figure it out.

  I know you’ll run to the cops as soon as I’m dead. Do what you need to do.

  But before I start…how about releasing one hand, eh?

  No? You need a little more still? Fine. Let’s get to the story you’re wanting.

  10

  KEN

  * * *

  The first one was special.

  There were things about her that set her apart from the others.

  No one else looked like her. We needed her to stand out in our minds and hearts and so we made sure to find girls the complete opposite of how she looked.

  For instance, the papers all reported we had a type. They were right and wrong.

  We didn’t care if they had black or brown or red hair.
r />   They just couldn’t be blond.

  They couldn’t have her name - first or last or be from anywhere close to where she lived.

  They couldn’t be her age. A year or two younger was preferred.

  They also couldn’t have dimples.

  She also wasn’t a babysitter.

  Other than that, it was open season.

  Stacie was our roommate. She was a kid Barbie picked up hitchhiking one afternoon.

  We’d found a place in a little town called Bervie. It was a nothing town, only a gas station and pop machine to call it’s own. We’d both found jobs at nearby towns - me as a mechanic and Barbie as a waitress.

  I’d often come to have lunch with Barbie and as we sat in a back booth on a wet Sunday afternoon, this girl walked into the cafe, soaking wet but the brightest smile on her sweet angelic face.

  Barbie went to help her and left me alone to finish up our fries. I could hear a little of their conversation and had been watching her walk up toward us from the highway so I had an idea of the direction Barbie was going.

  Neither one of us had said anything but we were ready for a little bit of excitement to happen.

  Little did I know Stacie was about to provide more than we could handle.

  She taught us new levels and we were more than willing students, let me tell you.

  She was eighteen and could have passed for Barbie’s little sister.

  In fact, Stacie really was the name of Barbie’s sister. Barbie the doll, not my girl.

  She was tall with hip bones to melt any boy’s fears. Long blond hair that covered her body like angel wings. Perky breasts, beautiful dimples and a smile to light up the room.

  She came home with us and Barbie was able to get her a job along side her.

  The next few months were amazing. Heaven on earth.

  Stacie wasn’t the sweet little girl you’d think she was.

  She’d ran away from home at the age of fourteen.

  She knew how to sway the hearts and dicks of the men she met.