Maddening

Written Exclusively By:

@imaginedragon

for the

Sndbox Summer Camp Writing - Task 2

Maddening

The Discovery

The house was revolting; you could smell it from the street. The smell was coming into the car vents, as I pulled up. The scent made you instantly throw up. Most of the officer's dinners were all over the front yard. The crime scene was contaminated. All the officers were consoling each other, telling the other, no one would not lose it in that house. As I walked up the path, I hear all the chatter of this house and the horror that lies there. All I hear though is about the smell. There has not been one officer that has made it past the door. All I know is there is a dead body on the floor, male, no age or description, no cause of death. The officers lose their dinner before they ever reach the body. It amazes me how grown men, who proclaim to be the stronger sex, cannot handle death, decomposition, and whatever other smells happen to be coming from the house.  

As I approached the door, putting my latex gloves on, I can hear the officers snickering; taking bets on how long it will take before I have added to the yard of vomit. The house was an old country house, on 10 acres of land, in the middle of nowhere. My GPS couldn't find it. The local sheriff was texting directions to everyone. As I reached the steps, I will tell you I was worried, but my interest in what was beyond the door shut down the part of my brain that worried about my stomach. As I reached the door, the smell was full force; it was decomp mixed with sewer. It smelled as though a septic truck exploded. There were rats everywhere. They were feasting on our dead body; by the looks of it, for a while. My first few steps were easy until I hit a puddle of bodily fluids, consisting of decomp and feces, and landed flat on my back. The back of my head, back, butt, hands were covered. FUCK!!!!!! 

As I walked down the steps, there was hysterical laughter; "Fuck You!!!" Two crime scene techs came over, covered in white jumpsuits and face masks. There were using industrial masks, which would let very little of the smell though. They helped me remove my clothes, which were now, evidence. They handed me sweats and another pair of shoes from my car. I always carry extra clothes, for these very moments. As one tech bagged my clothes, I asked; "Do you have a shower in that van?" He laughed and shook his head no; "well at least you didn't add to the pile." I laughed and agreed.  

I grabbed a white jumper and booties from the crime van and walked back up the stairs. The crime scene could not be entered by the crime scene techs until the house until someone cleared the house. I would be clearing a home for the first time since, my early years on the force. I have been a homicide detective for over eight years now. After passing the body, which should be my first focus, I made my way through the first floor, with my hand on my weapon. The gentlemen at the front room had been dead for over a month. Whoever killed him was no longer a threat. I believed the house was empty.  

Savior

With the first floor cleared, and I moved up the stairs to the bedrooms. As I made my way to the top of the steps, the smell intensified, was there another body? My curiosity was peaked, the hall was dark, and there was little light. All the windows had were covered with sheets, there were four doors, only one remained open. I went to open the first door, and I had to use some force to get it open, there was literally nothing in the room. It looks as though the rooms had never had anyone in them. There was dust on the floor for years of being closed up, but that was it. The next bedroom was the same. The bathroom, the only door open, had never used, either. It was a 1960's bathroom that was locked in a time capsule. As I approached the last bedroom, I heard a thump, and something moves across the room. I drew my weapon. It may be an animal, and I was not getting bit tonight after my epic splash in the decomp pool. 

I went to open the door, and it fell open with no effort at all. I was expecting to use force; I almost fell on the floor. The smell was as strong, as downstairs, except this, was pure septic. The beam of my flashlight was all I had for light. It took me a few moments to scan the room. That was why at first I missed her. On the second scan, my beam caught her eyes. She huddled in the corner, like a trapped animal. She was naked and covered in filth. What covered her, was not dirt; it was filth.I could not tell her age, her race, or her color hair. Lily, was covered, as though, she had was submerged in a septic tank for years. 

For the first few moments, I was dumbfounded. I did not know what to do; my feet would not move. Then Lily moved, and I jumped. She instantly slammed back into the corner, into the wall, and covered her head. She let out a slight whimper and then shushed herself. I reached slowly for my cell phone and called outside to tell them I need a paramedic in here. As the corporal told a medic to go in, I heard another officer say; "Has she fallen again and needs help up?" There was a roar of laughter, which startled her and she jumped. I quietly put the light down more on her chest and squatted in the door. I spoke softly; "Hello, my name is Detective Charlotte McKenzie. I want to help you. I will not hurt you. I am just going to sit here. I have asked a paramedic to come in and help you. We will both sit here until you are ready to let us near you. We can talk. No one is ever going to hurt you, I promise. She just curled up further into the corner.  

The paramedic made his way into the room, with a mask on his face. He looked to where my flashlight beam was pointing. He whispered; "holy shit, is it a girl or a boy?" "It is a girl. I told her we are going to sit here quietly until she is ready to let us help her." Rick sat slowly down and winched when his ass hit the floor. The hall was as bad as the rest of the house, but the rooms were untouched. His ass was in the hall. When he made a sound of disgust, she laughed. "That was funny, he is a silly man, and there is nothing wrong with the floor." She turned to me and said; "Its shit, bugs, urine, blood, semen, rats, death, and it disgusting." "Yes it is, would you like to go to the hospital and have a shower?" She could speak, she was over the age of 11, she had some schooling, and she understood this was not normal. Meaning she had not lived here her whole life. That was one thankful piece of information.  

She screamed when I went to get up. We needed more time to convince her; this was not a trick. We were not luring her out of this room to hurt her and put her back; wherever she was before in the house. "What is your name? I told you my name, and this is Rick, could you tell us your name?" She just stared at the wall. "Do you know where you are? Do you know how you got here? Do you know who the man is downstairs?" I gave her several minutes in between these questions to answer. There were no replies. I went to ask her another question, and she shushed me. Rick laughed. She quickly looked over at him and never broke eye contact.  

She slowly got up and went to walk, then fell. Rick jumped up and touched her arm and asked if she was alright? She looked up at him and realized he was touching her and screamed. Then went to crawl back to the corner and he stuck a syringe in her leg. "What the fuck are you doing?" "We have to get her out of here; she needs medical help. She was never going to go willingly. This way she can wake up knowing we did not hurt her or put her back. We saved her." "You better be right, or I will have your job." 

Rick covered her with a sheet and then scooped her up and carried her out of the house. He was very gentle, treating her as though she was his sister or a wounded animal. The care was genuine, and I know that he was right. I never had in all my career come across this, and I had no experience in handling it. I found out later that Rick had been a first responder to the Sheppard house. A few years past, a four-year-old called 911 to say that she wanted her daddy to stop hurting her and her brothers and sister. The 911 operator asked her, where she lived. She couldn't tell her. The little girl was calling from a neighbor's phone who told the operator where she lived. Police and paramedics answered the and when they arrived there were four children covered in bruises from head to toe. The children looked as though they had not eaten in weeks. The two boys and Emily were chained to their beds. Emily had lost enough weight she slipped out of her chain and escaped. Emily called the police to help her brothers and sister. The youngest was six months, and she had already died in her crib. The boy's ages 6 and 8 were still alive but very sick. All the children went to the hospital for treatment.  

The only one that survived was the eight-year, Daniel. Stephen and Emily both died from infections. All the children had multiple fractures, were malnourished, and sexually abused. According to the final investigation report, the children were all Mr. Daniel Sheppard's, and he was sexually abusing them since the age of 2. He was also selling them to people online. Mr. Sheppard was arrested trying to leave the country and had been serving three life sentences. Mr. Sheppard was murdered in his cell, by the other inmates in prison. Mr. Sheppard was raped and killed by being stabbed over a 100 times. Let's say there were no tears shed for his death. 

Rick was the first paramedic on the scene. He was the one that pronounced the six-month-old girl, Suzie and the first to help Stephen. Rick followed their care, brought toys and clothes, sat and held their hands. Rick also, held Stephan and Emily's hands as they passed. Rick's family paid for the funerals, grave plots, and headstones. They also adopted the children, so their tombstones could have last names of people who cared for them. Rick was a single man, so his brother and his wife adopted Daniel. Rick, more than anyone at the scene, understood what getting out of there means for her. 

Lily

The ambulance was silent when it arrived, as were the 15 police officers that escorted it. If she was to have woken up, they did not want to freak her out with the sounds and lights. She slept the whole 1 ½ hours to the hospital. The only hospital, near the house where we found her, was too small and could not care for her. We felt it was best to make the drive to the best hospital in Seattle. Once we reached Walsh Memorial, I knew she was in good hands, with them and Rick. The only way I could help her now was to find out who she was and get her back to her family. At this point I wasn't even thinking of the murder, just finding out who she was. 

As I was driving back to the scene, my lieutenant called me on my cell. Lieutenant Gregory, wanted an update. I explained that I had not examined the body. Once I told him about the condition of the house, the smell, and finding the girl, he was probably pulling his hair out. "This is going to be a media nightmare. Get there, get it solved! Find out who this girl is and what in the world has been happening in that house! We don't need another Sheppard!" "Yes, sir." All eyes were on me.  In my career I had solved a few large murders, mostly Seattle gangs, settling scores. Other killings were husbands or boyfriends, or prostitutes that were picked up by the wrong john. There have been very few that were high profile. If there was a high profile case, detectives with 15 or more years, were assigned. Lily's case was my first, and I would be lying if I wished I was not on the call sheet tonight. High profile cases can break a career, as fast as, make one. They are highly stressful and usually do not end with a slam dunk. I needed to put that out of my mind for now and concentrate on finding out who this poor girl is.  

I reached the scene in less than 45 minutes, the perks of being a cop with lights. I entered the scene with a resolution on finding out who our Jane Doe was. The crime scene techs were already in the house working. Being able to see everything in the room was nice. I wish it would have helped with the disgust and smell, but nope. I examined the body. It was male, early 40's, well dressed, clean, and the side of his neck had been torn out. My guess for a cause of death was acute blood loss. I would be right. The corner walked up; "Whoever did this, did it with their teeth. It was vicious. My first guess would be our Jane Doe." I agreed, I moved off the body, let the corner take the body, and moved through the house. Kevin, a crime scene tech, was going through paperwork on the desk. "Can you read anything?" "No, it is all covered in what the house is. I will have to take it back and send it to the lab." "Well that will take months, and we don't have months." I moved on looking for anything that was not covered or had not been there for years. 

"Sergeant McKenzie?" I walked over to the basement opening where an officer was yelling for me. "Yes, what is it?" "You are going to want to see this." I went down the stairs; the smell was was a 1000% worse. There was no air to circulate it through. The officers were all wearing industrial masks, and they were still gagging. I would like to say I did not gage, but I would be lying. I reached the bottom and my shoes sunk into the floor. "That is mud; up here is the only place that you can get out of it." I put both feet on the floor, well in the mud, and scanned the room. It was probably 20x12 feet. The concrete slab off to the right was perhaps 8x8 feet. One side, of the slab, was up against the wall. There was nothing, no furniture, no mattress, no bathroom, nothing, except a chain. There were a cup and a water spigot, which did not work. There were plastic water bottles and paper plates in one corner, across from the slab. On the wall, above the concrete slab, there was writing, blood, hand prints. The only writing was one word, over and over again, Lily. In the corner with the water bottles and paper plates were dead rats. She killed the rats, in the same manner as the man upstairs. Their throats had been torn out. She has been eating the rats. I threw up. 

There is no Home 

Once back at the station I started to go through all the evidence brought in, so far. The dead body was Mark Abbott. He was a local business owner, who owned the feed and grain store in town. The store was run day to day by a manager, but he came in once a week. We visited Mr. Abott's home; we could tell he hardly lived there. As we searched, we found four more homes in different parts of Washington. There were women in each one of the houses, in the same condition, in the same remote area, all dead. Two of the women had been strangled, one died of a blood infection, and the other was blunt force trauma to the head. We identified all of the women, through fingerprints and officers were notifying their families. Over those seven days, I looked for Lily's family. I went through 100's of missing person photos. We ran her fingerprints, but nothing came up. My lieutenant gave me one more day and then said I would need to move on. The case was solved, this was missing person's case now. "If the pictures in the media have not brought anyone here; then she probably doesn't have any family left. You need to move on. There are, more murders, which need you to do your job." He was right, but you never want to give up. This girl needs a happy ending. 

My last ten pictures and there she was, fourth from the previous. Wow, she is beautiful. Elizabeth "Lily" Turner was 15 when she went missing, five years ago. Lily was last seen outside Royal Movie Theatre in Portland, Oregon by three of her friends. Lily and her friends had just seen the movie Batman, The Dark Knight. The other girls were picked up by their parents. When the officer questioned the parents from that night, Stephanie's mother, Jenny, said according to the police report; "I offered Lily a ride home. Lily told me that she would be alright, her dad was on his way, he had been held up at birth. She was very excited to see the new foul her dad had just delivered. She assured me her dad had just texted and was only a few minutes away. I should have waited with her. I was tired and wanted to get home. How could I have not stayed with her?" The officer, who took the report, put in the notes that Jenny was devastated and blamed herself.  

Lily's father, Charles, was a vet and her mother, Rose, a kindergarten teacher lived in Portland, Oregon. Rose is still alive but in a mental institution. Charles was dead. He committed suicide two years after Lily went missing. Charles had a brother who lives in Seattle. I could not have this conversation with him over the phone; it was better in person. When I arrived at Jacob Turner's residence, it was 8 pm. There were lights still on, and I could hear children happily playing. I knocked on the door. I had rehearsed the speech a million times in the car. I hoped it would go as smooth as I planned.  Mr. Turner's son, Ryan, answered the door. He was a happy, adorable five-year-old. I squatted down and said I was Charlotte and could I please speak to his dad. Ryan ran full speed to his dad in the kitchen. Mr. Turner was very distraught when he reached the door, knowing his five years old had answered it, without his knowledge. I calmed him and introduced myself; "I am Detective Charlotte McKenzie of the Seattle State Police Department. I was hoping I could come in and talk to you for a moment?" "Is my wife alright?" "Yes sir, she is fine. I am not here concerning her. Please, may I come in and explain?"  

I entered through the door. The house smelled of french fries and cookies. It was beautiful and full of toys and family. I wanted to live there. I asked; "Is there somewhere Ryan and his older brother Nate could go for a few moments, while we speak?" "No, my wife is at a meeting. She should be home any minute. I will call and see how close she is." "No, I don't mind waiting. Plus I don't want her answering her cell phone while driving?" "Do you mind coming in the kitchen, I need to get these guys fed." "Absolutely," as we walked to the kitchen Ryan and Nate asked me about my gun, badge, cuffs, and radio. I let them play with the radio, on an unused frequency. They bored quickly as no one answered. It reminded me that I need to get busy having kids. A few moments later, Michelle Turner returned home. Mr. Turner introduced us and asked if she could watch the kids. Mr. Turner and I went into his office. 

My speech was to explain that we had found his niece and that she was in Walsh Memorial and that she was stable but still needing care. I said that Lily had been abducted, tortured, raped and brutalized in a manner I had never seen or heard of in my career. I had no intention of going into details, but he insisted. "My brother would have wanted to know every detail of what happened to his daughter. If it were Ryan or Nate, I would want to know. Tell me everything." I explained that almost every bone her body was broken. Some more than once. There were healed whip and cut marks. Lily had been raped. I described her living conditions and how malnourished she was. When I explained the horrendous nature of the rapes and that they were taped and sold; he threw up in his trash can. I left out the part about the rats. If I would have told him, I was afraid he would never stop throwing up. I was actively holding my dinner down, thinking of it.  

Mr. Turner ripped open his office door, told his wife Lily had been found and was in terrible condition and he was going to Walsh Memorial. She said him to go and walked us out, crying. I drove Mr. Turner as he was in no condition to drive. When we reached the hospital, he looked at her and did not recognize her. "She looks so much older. Her hair is a different color. Are you sure this is her?" Yes, we are. There was a DNA sample in her missing person's file, and it is a match. Lily has not been able to have a shower; she has only been wiped off. She has been unconscious since; we left the scene. The doctors have to reintroduce food slowly, and she has many infections from her living conditions. The doctors are keeping her in a medically induced coma to let her body heal." "When will she wake up?" "The doctors don't know at this point; hopefully not too much longer." Lily's doctor walked over, and I introduced them. Dr. Caplan escorted Mr. Turner to the conference room and gave a complete update. I stood there watching Lily, Mrs. Turner walked up.  

"Charlie and Rose prayed for this day. They hired a private investigator, spent almost all the money they had. Rose went to bed when the investigator didn't find her and never got back up. The doctor said she had a mental breakdown. She has never spoken a word since that day. Charles hung himself in the stall of the colt that was born the night she went missing. He could never get over the guilt of not being there on time. Hell, even Stephanie's mother let the guilt ruin her life. She got divorced, left her children, and moved across the country to Boston. We all believed that Lily was dead and they all believed they were responsible." "I spoke to Rose's doctors, and they said they told her and there was no reaction. The psychiatrists believe the mental break was so severe, that nothing, will bring her back." "It is better to leave it. We don't even know if she will survive." Jacob walked out and hugged his wife. They excused themselves, and I stayed for a few more minutes and left. I have closed the case. I had identified Lily, the murder was solved, and Lily was with family.  

I wanted her to have a happy ending, but it will never come. She had no parents to help her through the next stage, but at least there was someone. Jacob seemed to care enough to get sick, rush over here, and stay. Hopefully, he sees this through the next part. The hardest part, for the abduction, and her being found alive are the easy parts, getting her back to life will test everything they have. Lily, on the other hand, will see it as a heaven. 

The Abduction, Torture, and Rape of Lily Turner 

Lily Turner was a bright 15-year-old high school student in Portland, Oregon. Her parents Charles and Rose Turner were a working upper middle class. Lily, whose name was, after the flower and her grandmother. She was beautiful, popular in school, and her best friend was Stephanie Marcum. Lily loved the light color blue, she hated math, loved history, and was her dad's favorite vet assistant. Lily was determined to be a veterinarian like her dad. She had a very close relationship with her parents, and they trusted her. By all accounts, Lily was a great kid, who was looking forward to going to college in a few years, getting married, and having two kids. 

Lily, Stephanie, and two other girls went to the movies on October 21, 2008, to see Batman, The Dark Knight. Once the film lets out, Lily texted her dad when he was not outside. He texted to say he was almost there. Lily only lived two blocks from the movie theatre and said she could walk home. His answer was no. He feared for her safety on the dark roads. When Charles reached the movie theatre, it was dark. He got out and could not find his daughter. Calling her name, he went to the doors trying to get in, yelled her name down the street, there was no response. Thinking she disobeyed him and headed home, he got back in his truck and drove towards home. There was no sign of her. Once he reached home, Rose got in the car and made, her way to Lily friend's houses thinking she could be there. Lily had vanished. 

Lily was standing in front of the movie theatre when it closed, and the lights were turned out. Their movie was the last of the night. Once Stephanie's mom pulled away, she was all alone. She patiently waited for her dad. Parked down the street was Mark Abbott, the owner of a feed and grain store in Seattle, Washington. He drove up, and I am guessing asked Lily if she wanted a ride home, she declined. He got out, punched her in the face and left. We imagine this scenario from the healed fractures. The cheekbone looks the oldest. 

As Charles and Rose were searching for their daughter, Mark was driving her to a living hell. A hell that consisted of Mr. Abbott visiting Lily twice a week to leave enough food for several days torture her by either beating, removing layers of skin, cutting, or whipping her. After he tortured her for hours sometimes, he would rape her. We know all the details of these actions, Mark had videotaped, his activities. Sometimes he uploaded it to the web so others could enjoy. There was an access code you had to purchase between $2000 to $10,000. Depending on how long, how bad the torture or rape dictated the price. Five years of her life, the end of her childhood was pure hell, and it was all to satisfy a sick need and monetary gain. The urge, I had, to hunt all of them down and kill them, is very overwhelming.  

Lily killed Mark Abbott. When he unchained her from her concrete slab to take her upstairs, he turned his back, and she jumped on him and bit. No matter how much he punched her, slammed her into the wall, she never let go. After a few minutes, she pulled a thick section of his neck out, spit it out, and bit again. Once she had nicked the artery, and the blood was flowing, and he fell to the ground she let go. The sheer will she had to do that as malnourished and how sick she was, can never be understood. The desire to live outweighed her pain. Mark had videoed his death.  

That night Mark was there to kill her. Mark had visited the four other girls, before Lily, that he had kept a prisoner. They were all around 15 when they were abducted. Three were before Lily and one after. All of them experienced the same hell as Lily. Mark succeeded in killing them. All of them were getting too old, and Mark needed fresh, younger girls, his sales had dropped off. When we investigated all four houses, we found four bodies buried. Mark Abbott was a single man with no children and no family that we could find. Mark had been abducting and killing girls for over ten years. Mark according to his family, his employees, was a kind, honest, hardworking person. He was not at the store often because he was out getting new business. The business always had new customers and turned a nice profit. The employees received nice bonuses every Christmas. Mark was laundering the webcasting money through the feed and grain store. Their yearly rewards came from the abduction, rape, and torture of young girls.  

Healing 

Lily's doctors woke her from her medically induced coma, two weeks after, her admittance. Immediately they began to try, build trust so she could regain some part of her life. There was a team of psychologist that believed it was better to tell her that her parents had died and how. Lying would only destroy the trust they were trying to build. As the time progressed, Lily did not move forward. She had horrible tantrums, self-inflicted injuries, screaming fits. Lily would not sleep in the hospital bed; she slept on the floor. It took her almost two weeks to stop defecating in the corner of the room. Most of the time wherever she was she would go. Most mornings when the nurses would come to check on her or to take her to another room, she would scream and curl up in the corner of the room. One of the most distressing events was when a nurse came in one morning and found Lily covered in her feces and urine. She had wiped it all over her, smeared it on the floor, and was laying in it. The psychologist explained this is normal for her. It was making her comfortable. It is abnormal to her now. The brain wants familiar and unfortunately what the nurse found was familiar. The nurse, who discovered her, was kind, for she helped her up, showered her, had the room cleaned, and hugged her for over an hour. She just kept singing to her. The doctors believed this act of kindness was the turning point for Lily.  

Jacob and Michelle tried to stick it out, but after five months in the hospital, with little to no improvement, they felt she was better with the psychiatrist. They felt after hearing all the details, seeing her wounds, they realized this was not going to be easy. Jacob explained that he and his wife had two small boys and there was no way they could devote the time to Lily, she needed. They signed custody of Lily over to the psychiatrist at Walsh Memorial. Dr. Christopher and his team deemed she was too unstable and was committed to Littleton Psychiatric Hospital. Lily was in solitary where the doctors could make sure everyone was safe. Due to the facts of her case, her murder of Mark, she was deemed a threat to other patients. Even though, Lily had never tried to harm any of her caregivers.  

Rick and I visited Lily on different days. We were allowed to watch her through a window and occasionally she would lie against the window. She never made eye contact with me, but Rick said she did with him and they held hands through the glass. Rick was working on getting her moved to a facility that would use other therapies to help her. Rick found out that Lily was not medicated; as she was cooperative. Her tantrums, screaming fits, defecating in the corner, ceased after the nurse, showed her a moment of kindness. Most of the time when I visited, she would hold onto the table with her eyes closed. I would wonder why? 

Rick was successful in gaining custody and moved her to New Hope Treatment Center. At this facility, Lily was never locked in. She was allowed to walk freely through the home and the grounds. She could step outside whenever she wanted. Lily could wear clothes she chose, she could decide what she ate, and she could decide what she did that day. No one restricted her. Lily could never leave the fence that surrounded her. After, a few months, Lily was allowing people to touch her and saying one to two words. By the end of the first year, she was having conversations. Dr. Meade, at New Hope, told Rick that she would never leave. There was no way with all that she had been through could she ever live a normal life. Dr. Meade explained that Lily was taken out into public, to a market. She was allowed to walk through with staff nearby if she needed help. She was fine until the first person moved near her; she became hysterical, and the team had to sedate Lily. When she woke, she told Dr. Meade that the person was going to hurt her. She cried for her mom. Dr. Meade said that was when the committee decided this was the best place for Lily to live her life. At New Hope, she could garden, care for animals, help around the facility, and more importantly be and feel safe. Rick visited every week, as did I.  

The Table 

After a few years, Lily would have conversations with me. Rick and Lily had grown close, very early on, and even more, after the move to the new facility. Lily took longer to trust open up to me. My life was different by this time, I had quite the police force, never wanting to see the scene again. My boyfriend, Henry and I, who was also a police officer, in the narcotics division, married. We had one son, Sam, a year old and another on the way. It was a little girl, and I was naming her Lily. When I told Lily, she smiled. "I love my name. My grandmother was a sweet person, and I love her so much. She would be so happy that you are naming your daughter after us." That was the first time I had seen her smile. We would talk about the plants, animals, Rick, and her dreams.

Right before I went to leave, Lily began talking; "When I was locked in that room, on that slab, I almost forgot who I was. I would write my name over and over, so I would not forget it. The task of writing my name, never let me forget my name, but it didn't stop me from forgetting the person. It was so hard not to let the evil take over. I remember that day I let go of Lily and became the evil that allowed me to survive. It was the first time I ate the rat. The pain of hunger was so intense that I could not stand it. The rats were there, but I could not bring myself to kill it. Lily would never hurt an animal. Lily wanted to protect them, help them, save them. There would never be a reason she would take an animal's life. Lily would have starved to death. Once I accepted the evil inside me, I wanted to hurt something. The anger was so strong that hurting another gave me a sense of pleasure. The thought alone made me giggle, and I was elated. I picked up a rat and bit. Lily died with that bite. It was the same as when you kill someone; you can never go back over that line. That is why they don't let me leave here. They are afraid if I get too cornered or threatened, I will kill. Their worse fear is that I will kill for pleasure. I tend to believe them. " 

"When I killed Mark, it gave me more pleasure than I had ever known. I know Dr. Meade told you that at the market I became hysterical and had to be sedated. That was not the whole story. A man walked by me, I got scared and attacked him. The part in me that is evil believed that the man was going to hurt me. That is when the team sedated me. When I woke that is what I told them and that I wanted my mom, the truth is I wanted to kill the man. The need for that pleasure was so intense. It's a hunger I want to feed. The evil is still there. Lily is gone forever. Every day I stop who I have become, and that is why I hold the table." 

No, grab the table, brace for it, it will go, it will pass. Close your eyes, breath, the pictures you see in your mind are not real. Talk it out, tell yourself what you see, then you will know that it is not real. Go! I'm shaking, rocking, my mind is whirling, I am screaming, screaming so loud and hard; but no sound. It is dirty, filthy, shit, dirt, mud, piss, rats, spiders crawling, making their home on me. I'm covered in it. I no longer smell it. I sit in, the fifth, and rock. I have screamed, hit the air, punched the walls. Ripped my hair out, the blood runs down my face, warm, covering, a beautiful mask. I don't care I licked it. It quenches my thirst. It tastes of ice cream melting on my chin, yum. I crawl upon the floor chasing the rats, like balls. I giggle at the sight, the pleasure of the fear they have. I catch one, upon biting into it, its eyes widen, its heart speeds up, and as I pierce its body, it squeals, and the warmth of the blood, the feeling of consumption, the sense of release. Slowly the twitching, the fighting, slows, as its heart does. Silence. Running amuck through the basement, carrying my new dead friend, swinging it above me, celebration, rejoice. Laughter. At night; in the darkness, rolling upon the filth, enjoying it, rubbing into every part, pleasing, erotic, longing, moist, warm. There is no sleep, just celebration, feasting, pleasure. Oh, what my eyes must see. For the sane self-sees horror but the maddening see's joy. For this is my mind. 

The End

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