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Dr. Taylor would contemplate his options before he implemented a strategy, and since the events were of a pressing matter, he would move forward with a plan. Andrea had no doubt he would be diplomatic and conceal the true reasoning of his questioning in such a way that everything would resemble a normal session.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and Andrea was instantly annoyed.
“I’m well. Never felt better, thank you.” She had to be careful with her answers. Eagerness to confirm her well-being could be interpreted as a change, and a change wasn’t a good thing. She had to appear normal, no highs or lows to be displayed in any way.
“What makes you feel better now as opposed to how you felt before?”
Fuck! Getting caught now would destroy all she had accomplished in the past twenty years. Could she pacify him and get out of this difficult situation?
“You keep me busy, and it seems from now on, we’ll be even more busy. I like being occupied and involved in your project, and most importantly, I look forward to seeing the final results.”
“Yes, we are almost there. Any abnormalities to report? Maybe a headache or a change in the velocity of the discharge?” He was going too far by asking these questions. Did he know?
“None. I do get a headache now and then, and yes, the velocity of the discharge is great. Be assured, I’m used to it by now, and it only lasts for a few seconds.”
“How is the pattern of your thoughts?” This question did trigger some bells and whistles. He had stopped asking about this years ago; he most certainly knew something. He had called her yesterday. She knew because her phone registered the missed call. The doctor was desperate and careless.
“If I say the pattern of my thoughts has been the same for the last twenty years, it would be a lie.” She had to answer in a way that demonstrated she was comfortable discussing it, and at the same time, she wished to bait him. She would lure him to divulge his great knowledge. And when she finally looked up, the answer was there on his face.
“Oh, Doctor, my thoughts are exactly the same,” she laughed, and the sounds filled the room.
“That’s good,” he uttered with relief. It was not her imagination.
“Enough about me. I’m good.” She had to reassure him. “Yesterday I finished all the printouts and analyzed the patterns. The reports and data appear to be as expected. You should stop worrying so much.”
The idea of her involvement in the killing was ridiculous, at least that was what she needed the doctor to think until it was over. The countdown had started. Andrea got up and left his office. The plan for the grand demise wasn’t just an entity in the back of her mind. It had now moved up to the number one spot on her to-do list, and time was running out quickly. Dr. Taylor must have identified some discrepancies; otherwise he wouldn’t have questioned the stream of her thoughts. He hadn’t done that for years, and their sessions were always about work, not the state of her mind. She pushed the button calling the elevator and stepped in, pressing the B button. She glared at her faint image on the stainless-steel doors. She was fuller in the lower half of her body than the upper. She barely recalled her image eons ago. Fuzzy memories of her previous life washed over her. On second thought, her life was disconnected like scenes from a bad movie where the editor became over-creative and leapt from one picture to the other in a disjointed way. She remembered her ex-husband clearly, with his oversized glasses and his thick eyebrows like her son’s.
The doors opened, revealing an empty lab now that all the blusterous commotion of human interaction was gone. The talent and the scientists were all gone. The research was shifted to the new facilities for mass production, but the final chapter was still there in that dark place where her last twenty years had been spent. She would like to enter the control room in front of her and tap the keyboard, releasing the beast on all the subjects who carried the device, even her own son. She stepped out of the elevator, making a left and following the corridor to her office. The door was wide open, and the reports with the data listing the brain waves of all the subjects were piled in a tray. The analysis was done, and ready for Dr. Taylor, who looked at the report like he didn’t trust her ... or was it his meticulous perfectionism? Perhaps he was a good candidate for the device? she thought.
She inspected the room as if it was the last time. Her naughty and dangerously tense bric-a-brac that were consistent with her personality were hidden in her drawer. There were pictures and articles that reminded her of female killers. They were not really killers, she argued internally. They were thrill seekers and adjusters of life, who were chosen to complete a mission. She sat down, retrieved her keys from her pants’ pocket, and unlocked the drawer to uncover all her loved ones. Her heart skipped a beat over Elizabeth Báthony, who was accused of the death of hundreds and hundreds of young ladies of the lower nobility in her castle in Hungary. And Aileen Woornos who was labeled as a serial killer for killing a mere seven men. Though her direction was wrong, she still had a soft spot in her heart for Aileen. She finally locked her drawer again and picked up the phone. She had to talk to her contact sooner rather than later.
Before the greeting was formed, she barked, “Dr. Taylor knows something is up.”
“Of course, he knows.” His calm voice infuriated her. “It’s all over the news. The police seem to be desperate to apprehend you, and they are finally using the media for leads.”
“Did they release any details?”
“A few details and the victims’ names,” he paused before the next statement was uttered. “Evidently, we don’t have much time, and although I would love to facilitate your fantasies further, it seems impossible. You have to do it soon ... very soon.”
“I know. I’m aware of the time constraints. I’m doing it for my son.” Her voice was full of emotions. “He gets off on the crime scenes, and I’m hoping for just a bit more.”
“There isn’t any time left. I’m thinking tonight. Is anyone there?”
“No.”
“Then pull the trigger and input the code.”
“Tonight then.” She finally exhaled. The air left her lungs slowly as if she was disappointed. She should be elated.
She didn’t have to ask what was going to happen when she pulled the trigger. She already knew. The beast would come out of her in all its glory because she had it in her. It was lurking, waiting for the right moment to take full control and dominate her. She wouldn’t let it control her entirely. She had other plans, and she would try to eradicate it in her own way. Nevertheless, the command was written with her contact’s guidance. It was a command to sacrifice the near and dear. She was still baffled with the command because it copied the style of another killer. In any case, she did her part and prepared the scene, little by little, with her previous prey until the sacrifice was complete. Did she know who she was going to sacrifice? Yes, it was the only image she carried in her soul and heart. The other carriers of the device would find their own.
She thought about her contact and how much he knew about her. She had never met him. He had somehow observed her throughout her whole life, almost as if she was living in a glass house. He knew all the details of her likes, her dislikes, and the beast. He funneled her energy in a different direction, and he undid Dr. Taylor’s work in a matter of minutes. She was not regretting anything since the killings made her euphoric, increasing her desires in an insatiable way. She thought about them all the time. When the desires bubbled to the top again, her contact told her to think about the killings she had committed. She only hoped and prayed that the lust wasn’t fading as rapidly and the smell of the blood wasn’t calling her as mercifully.
She went to the control room to bring all her memories back first. Her contact would have to wait until she was done with her personal dealings. Finally, all the incoherent pictures that entered her mind would make perfect sense. Why did I not think of it before? She checked her individual chart; the report hundreds of pages long. She clicked on the top menu under extras, and a new window formed requesting an ID and password. She typed them, and the command screen was released in front of her. She pressed the key. Instantaneously, she felt the jolt of memories invading her brain in a sequential order. She closed her eyes and welcomed them as familiarity began building again. She recalled how it all began. It was the calling within that begged for her submission to the urge, and she capitulated without a fight. The portraits and pictures were disorderly abominations, and she tried to make them appear pretty. Even her son was lacking harmonic features since he looked like his father. The painting was exhilarating, and it felt like her inner self was floating above, approving of the sighting. Just then, the voice asked for more. It asked for her son’s life. She quarreled strenuously, disputing the beast’s authority. She offered to paint on her son’s face. Then, the voice began to berate her, suggesting it was easier to paint the faces when the objects were lifeless. Yet, she still resisted. Killing she would not do, and she continued to paint everything in the house. That was the time she first met Dr. Taylor, when she was in the midst of arguing with the voice. Of course, she kept it secret. There was no need to disclose the capabilities of her inner self or the entity that lived deep inside her. The voice kept quiet in the session as well, fearing its demise since Dr. Taylor’s powers seemed beyond comprehension. When the session was done, the beast surfaced again, but it became more guarded. There were no more demands to paint the faces, at least for a while. She almost forgot that it lived within her, but when the medication began, the voice became enraged, pushing her over her limits. That was when she killed the homeless girl that crossed her path in the park. It happened in the early evening after her session with Dr. Taylor, while she was on her way to her husband’s office. She knifed the homeless girl a hundred times, only stopping because her arm could not sustain her movement. The voice continued screaming for more. She was lucky not to be caught. The victim screamed but it was getting dark, and she was able to muffle the sounds with her hand. The girl was tiny and easily submitted to her control. She left as soon as she made her look pretty, going home to clean up and prepare lies for her husband to explain her failure to pick him up. She assured the beast within that she wouldn’t do it again.
And she hadn’t explored those desires since. Dr. Taylor’s device captured and destroyed the entity, at least until the contact pressured her and funneled the energy. Then, the voice was reawakened, and the smell of blood called her again.