by Tiana Laveen
“So, Mr. Pike… it looks like you know how to play the game.” The man seemed to almost admire his fortitude and lies. Aaron offered a syrupy grin, this one much sweeter than the last.
“And what game would that be, Dr. Owens?”
“The one where you are deemed competent. I won’t disagree that you possibly are, but you show just enough self-awareness in these answers to be reckoned fit, and give yourself a rather accurate psychological profile.”
“And why is that an issue?”
“Because you don’t believe your answers, Mr. Pike.”
Both men were silent for a spell.
“You see, in the past, you’d take your psychological exams, answer in this manner, and be left alone. You scored in the method that would lead many to believe that though you’ve had struggles, you are on the path to make amends, and even have remorse for your illegal and immoral activities, now wishing to turn a new leaf.”
Aaron cleared his throat, clasped his hands over his groin, and crossed his ankles. “And what makes you believe that’s all horseshit, Dr. Owens?” He held on to his even tone and calm presence. He latched hold to the charade, even enjoying it a little along the way.
“Because I know you.” The man smirked, seemingly pleased with himself.
“You know me, Dr. Owens?” Aaron’s eyes narrowed on the man as his index finger drifted along his chin. “I’ve never laid eyes on you a day in my life.”
“No, Mr. Pike, you haven’t, but I know your type.”
“You know my type, huh?” He curved his lips to one side. “And what’s my type, Dr. Owens? Break it down for a silly ol’ country boy such as myself.”
“You’re a cerebral con-artist.”
“I’m sorry.” Aaron cracked a wide grin, closed his eyes and massaged his lids as he leaned slightly forward. “You’ll have to help me with that… I don’t know what ‘sea-brail’ means….”
“Yes you do, Aaron.” He could hear the smile in the man’s tone. “Almost any word, idea, and concept I toss your way, you are either already familiar with, or after a brief description, you’d understand it without further explanation.”
Aaron slowly opened his eyes and stared at the man, his smile becoming a bit less easy to maintain as seconds got pregnant and gave birth to grueling minutes.
You are one of them boys back in high school that never got any pussy… and now you don’t even want it… butt pounder…
“You see, Mr. Pike, you are devoid of empathy. You have absolutely no desire to look at your belief system from a different vantage point and you are incapable of caring about the pain of others. Nor do you have any aspiration to do so. It is my job to help create that craving within you. As it stands, you intentionally generate agony, via a form of cunning trickery. You create harm from your ideas, you overdose on fear, via your power, as well as influence over others, and you relish in actions that are submerged in acute brutality. You are dishonest with even yourself, but you are aware that you are. I’ve never met a client quite like you before. I thought I may have, but I believe I was incorrect. No, you are one of a kind. I find you to be quite fascinating, actually.”
“Do you now?”
“I do… I looked at your intelligence scores from the first time you entered this prison and now. Do you know your Intelligence Quotient, Mr. Pike?”
“Nope.”
“Well, let me tell you what it is. It is 149, Mr. Pike. That means that it is even higher than mine, and I take pride in my I.Q.” The man laughed lightly, as if they’d been having a good time—though Aaron was far from tickled or moved by his words. “149 means that you have superior intelligence, Aaron. Less than 2.3% of the American and European population has that I.Q. or higher. When I first saw it, I thought there must’ve been some mistake, but you’ve been tested several times, and each time, the score is consistent. What do you think of what I’m telling you, Mr. Pike?”
Aaron shrugged, threw his hands up, and cocked a custom blended sly grin. “I think nothin’ much of it at all, Mr. Owens. Intelligence is relative.”
“Interesting. Explain that theory to me.”
“Now don’t go gettin’ fancy on me.” Aaron sighed. “All I’m saying is that my intelligence is a good thing, I suppose, but having heart and pride are equally important.”
“Hmmm, I see. What do you have pride in, Aaron?”
“Are you testing me right now, Dr. Owens? If so,” he said, pointing indolently at the man’s desk, “maybe you should record this, you know, in case I try to backtrack or deceive you later… ’specially since I’m so very deceptive and my intelligence is higher than yours ’nd all.” He winked.
“I’m going to enjoy this, Mr. Pike. I’m going to enjoy spending time with you, each moment of it. So much so that I want to see you all the time. You are to see me every morning until I deem it no longer necessary.”
At that, Aaron’s jaws tightened, locked shut like a vicious dog put in a goddamn muzzle.
Son of a bitch!
He’d walked into a motherfucking trap, didn’t see the sly, nerdy bastard on the prowl. Regardless, he kept a straight face. Besides, all was not lost… He still had a role and game to play, despite Owens’ declaration that he had him pegged.
He thinks this is a funny game. I won’t give him the satisfaction, especially not to this Ivy League runt bitch…
“You got fucked with a lot at school, didn’t you, Dr. Owens?” he blurted, needing to inflict a bit of pain before he was dismissed and returned to his impound like the animal he surmised he was in the man’s eyes.
“Mr. Pike, these discussions are about you. They are about helping you while incarcerated here at Holman, as well as assisting you with establishing a new life once you are free.”
“You did, didn’t you? I used to hammer on fuckers like you… the know-it-alls, the pretentious assholes who thought they were better than everyone else. I assume you know what the fuck pretentious means. No need to worry though.” He threw up his hands. “Despite what you’ve been told, I’m only violent when pushed. I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head, sir…but you deserve to have your balls ripped off and jammed down your goddamn throat.”
“How does that make you feel, Aaron?”
“How does what make me feel, Dr. Owens?”
“To discuss physically hurting someone who is more than likely not as strong as you? I mean, look at me.” The man smirked as he looked his own self up and down, as if seeing his frail frame for the first time. “I’m 5’10 and weigh 167 lbs. on a good day. You’re easily 6’4, and have muscles larger than boulders. Do you feel better because you are, if you wished, capable of standing up at this moment, coming behind my desk, ripping me from my seat and splitting me in half with your bare hands?”
Aaron’s jaw tensed so much now, a wave of pain pierced the left side of his damn face.
“I surmise, Mr. Pike, that though you called into question me being the target of bullying, you actually may have been the target of harassment, mistreatment, and victimization. So much so, you developed a strong, impenetrable defense mechanism—many, actually, in order to protect yourself from further harm. I even would go as far as to say that you were bullied at home as well, Mr. Pike. The very people you were supposed to be able to trust left you to the monsters and, at times,” he shrugged, an unnerving smile on his face, “those under your own roof were the wolves in sheep’s clothing.”
Aaron. Said. Nothing.
YOU COCK SUCKING SON OF A BITCH. YOU ROTTEN, STINKING, CHICKEN SHIT, YOU!!! YOU GOT ME SCHEDULED TO SEE YOUR ASS EVERY GODDAMN MORNING LIKE YOU’RE MY WOMAN OR SOMETHING AND THEN YOU SIT HERE AND TRY TO FUCK MY MIND AND BUST A GODDAMN NUT. I INVENTED THE MIND FUCK, YOU SKINNY LITTLE, BIG-BRAINED FUCKBOY! YOU CAN’T PLAY WITH THE BIG DOGS AND NOT GET BIT! I’VE CRAPPED OUT BIGGER PIECES OF SHIT THAN YOU!
“…Owens is a Welsh surname. I bet you got some fuckin’ Jewish blood in you, though. Matter of fact, I’d bet big on it. Some big nosed, horsed face, greed
y ass, dirty Jew screwed a Welsh in your family and fucked up the entire bloodline. Once a Jew sticks his dick in the mix, there is no purity from that, no washing it away. You should be so proud.”
“Anger is sometimes good, Aaron,” the doctor went on as if nothing had been said to him at all. “Now that you’re angry, despite your even tone, your aggressive choice of words have proven otherwise.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Sure you are, and that’s okay, Mr. Pike. You see, anger is an emotion that is oftentimes born from fear. Anger is not even a real emotion; it is the byproduct of another. That means there is hope for you after all. Now, you are free to go.”
The undernourished bastard pushed his little white buzzer, and immediately two guards entered, cuffed Aaron, and pulled him in the direction of the door. He kept his eyes on Dr. Owens, loathe for this little exchange to be over so soon. He’d felt a flood of something unsettling, a gush within that made his chest grow warm. That emotion hadn’t struck him in years, and it infuriated the hell out of him. He stared the son of a bitch down, threatened him without saying a single word. Their eyes locked, and in that second, he wrote the good doctor a psychic letter. He knew the fucker caught his drift, but he was certain it would do no good…
He doesn’t scare easily… That’s nice, that’s cute. I got something for you, Dr. Owens, something special. You’ve fucked with the wrong man and you’ll live to regret it…
“IT’S OHHHHKAY! IT’S ohhhhhkay!” the boy wailed, tears falling down his cheeks as he rocked back and forth and bumped his palm on the side of his head. He looked like he was trying to knock out a rock through his ear that was lodged inside of his brain.
“Zion…Zion…look at me. Three…Two…One…” Mia placed her finger up as she and the boy sat alone in the darkness. The only trace of light meandered through one of the bare classroom windows that had no curtain or shade. Class had ended over ten minutes ago, but he was falling apart… unable to reel himself in. His eyes finally settled upon her, and he slowed a bit, but his body kept rocking. Drawing closer to him, she wrapped her arms around him gently and winced when he elbowed her in the gut.
Damn it!
“Zion! Shhhhhh! It’s okay, just like you said.”
“I’s ohhhhhkay!!!!” He was set to rev up once again, to be victim to his own brain. The damn thing betrayed him, but little did it know, he had people that cared, would help him through.
“Three….two…one… Five times five is… four times four is… three times three is…”
“Twenty-five! Sixteen! Nine!”
“That’s right,” she cooed as she wrapped her legs around him, pinning him down onto the floor while she ran her hands through his hair and rocked with him, his back pressed into her chest. “That’s right, Zion… It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. You just have to put in the work, sweetheart. You have to meet me half way…and I know you can do it. You’ll choose to do it because you’re smart, and you’re good, and you’re one of my brightest, most gifted students… and guess what else, Zion?”
She kept rocking him, his little body restrained, the darkness blanketing them in arms of dull comfort.
“You’ve got the heart of a tiger, and together, we’re going to beat this thing… it’s just a matter of time…”
Chapter Four
Name: Ryan Goldie
Charge: Embezzlement
Name: Stuart Prior
Charge: Second degree murder
Name: Aaron Pike
Charge: Assault and Battery
Name: Percy Campbell
Charge: Aggravated assault and robbery
“WHY DON’T THEY have photos of these guys in here, too?” Trudy asked as she leafed through the folder while sitting at Mia’s kitchen table, scanning the sheets chock full of inmate profiles for crucial information. “Fire” from the Ohio Players played on the small radio that Mia had had in her possession since she’d been a teenager. The thing cracked and groaned a bit with static-filled outbursts and the antenna seemed to almost have to touch the ceiling to receive a fairly decent signal.
“Because it’s not a dating service!” Mia rolled her eyes as she lazily got to her bare feet, stretched and yawned, and made her way back over to the old, white gas stove. Picking up the metal spatula that lay at the side, she turned the thick pork chops over, eager to get the damn homemade gravy on the things with a side of buttery mashed potatoes and cabbage drizzled with bacon grease. This was her cheat night, and she was going to have whatever the hell she wanted.
Trudy suddenly stomped her foot.
“Cut that out!” Mia turned towards her, brows bunched and vexed as could be. “I got that double fudge chocolate cake in the oven, girl. You’re gonna make it fall!”
“Well, shit, excusez-moi, but this is frustrating. If I’m going to do this, I need to see what these guys look like!”
“Didn’t you just warn me about convicts the other day? Aren’t you the same woman that acted as if my mere presence at Holman would turn them into frenzied zombies, out to get me as soon as I stepped foot inside the building? You told me I shouldn’t even work there, let alone date one!”
“No, you don’t understand.” The woman blushed, her expression coy as she turned away. “I’d never date a convict again—most got this crazy jail bird mentality—but hell, it would be nice to see who I’m dealing with, have a little eye candy.”
“Mmmm hmmmm.” Mia shook her head in disbelief as she turned back towards the stove. “So, are you going to do the program or not?” Mia shot her cousin a glance from over her shoulder, eye-balling the divorced mother of three. Love you to heaven and back, girl, but you’re crazy!
“Not.” Trudy burst out laughing and pushed the damn thing back across the table, her face full of disgust. “I’d end up getting some Jeffrey Dahmer type of man then, before I knew it, he’d be released and talkin’ to me about boilin’ my black ass in a pot of stew or like that one fool, turnin’ me into a damn lamp shade! Put the lotion in tha basket! Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
“Come on, Trudy! Please?” she begged, pressing her hands together as if in prayer. She threw on a pair of sad eyes in an effort to seal the imminent deal. “I asked so many and only got four people to sign up.” She held up four fingers, driving the point home. “I feel like I’m all alone in this, like on some island. I need help.”
“Wiiillllson!” Trudy joked as she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Remember that from Castaway with Tom Hanks?! Wiiiillllson! The soccer ball was floatin’ away… That shit was funny as hell.”
“You’re a real sick woman.” Mia grimaced. “Come on, seriously, Trudy. These men need someone to talk to.”
“Tell it to the judge. They shoulda thought about that before they did what they did…sittin’ around with no one to talk to is a small price to pay, I’m sure.” She popped a juicy orange slice in between her lips, and worked it around nosily in her mouth, smacking in between each exaggerated gulp as if she were chewing gum. Mia stood there watching the woman consume the sweet, juicy fruit and twisted her lips in annoyance.
“…I hope you choke on a seed.”
Trudy burst out laughing. “Now that wasn’t very nice, Mia,” she mocked with a sly grin, then popped another orange slice in her mouth. “When is that food gonna be ready? I’m famished.”
“In about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Well.” Her cousin shot a glance at the clock on the wall. “That’s far too long. I gotta go, baby girl.”
“So soon?! What am I going to do with all this food?” Mia slid on a black and white plaid design oven mitt with a burn mark in the middle and took a peek inside the old oven. “The cake is almost done, but would need to cool.”
“Can I fix me a plate to go? I gotta pick up Josh.”
“He had practice tonight?”
“Mmm hmmm.” She grabbed her lightweight purple windbreaker that hung loosely on the back of the chair and slid it on. “And I’m suppose
d to drop two of his friends back off home, too.”
“Okay, well, I guess I can pull the plug on this. Let me get your plate together.” The woman nodded as Mia quickly retrieved the foil and a few paper plates. “The cake will have to cool like I said. Come by tomorrow after work and I’ll get you some.”
“Oh honey, you know that I will!” she squealed as she accepted a plate of pork chops, cabbage, dirty rice and mashed potatoes, and three more just like it for her children. “Your double fudge chocolate cake is a kiss from the Devil, honey. Bad for you but too damn good to resist!” She grinned from ear to ear.
“Alright, be careful out there; you know the roads around this time of night are pitch black. They still haven’t fixed that light.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Thanks for dinner, sweetie.” Mia grabbed her cousin in an embrace and kissed her cheek, causing the lady’s large plastic bag laden with food to swing back and forth. Then, she walked her to the front door. The barely-hanging-on screen stretched across the squeaky thing as Trudy made her way onto the terrace, a dim, yellow light casting a hazy glow above her layered bob. A cluster of swooping gnats and other tiny flying insects moved about the illumination, flitting about in contentment. Tossing a look over her shoulder, she gave a light wave.
“Call me when you get in, okay?” Mia prompted, feeling the loneliness already seeping in—and the woman was still in sight.
“Yes, Mama.” With a giggle, Trudy walked to her red Ford Focus that was parked in the uneven driveway. Mia stood at the door a moment or two longer as the car disappeared from sight, eaten up by the darkness of the nocturnal world. Finally, she closed and locked the door then made her way back into her kitchen, immediately turning off the stove.
