The Demise of Megan Dewtrop

4.And more tales

"Do you wanna start over?" So here goes, I suppose. I sat down heavily in the plastic chair opposite Megan, who was, appropriately, playing a game of solitaire.

She was preoccupied, eyes darting around the set in front of her, tapping the deck nervously against her fingernails. "This spread is impossible, I've created an impossible game again. Goddamn it." She hissed under her breath. Slapping the cards down, they spread out into a haphazard fan. Staring down into her hands, her lips were still moving. Look, definitely mental. Suddenly her neck clicked as her face snapped up. "They've told you, huh?"

I kept myself reserved, "Yeeess.." Not quite sure what she was asking, I thought it best to remain on the cautious side.

"Not about my mother, that's fine. She was already gone to be honest." She stated offhandedly, gathering up the cards with her bound hands. She whistled and looked up, "There you go, tallying them up like the rest of them." Megan shook her head and tutted. "They've got you reaaal goood."

"I.. I don't really... know.. what you're talking ...about?" I didn't know what to say, The contract... the contract.. just don't say anything.

"Oh sure you do, sure...." She looked up and shuffled the cards casually. "Did you know... that lying is a sign of psychopathy." Megan swallowed loudly, "Because you might want to get tested. Just in case you're....you know, "cocking her head and leaning forward, she looked from side to side comically like it was some big secret, "you might secretly be a psychopath and not even know it!" I watched neutrally as she laughed to herself, like it was the biggest joke ever.

"Well, unfortunately it's not the biggest joke ever." She spoke openly now, plucking the words right out of my head. She placed the cards down carefully on the table and let her cuffed hands fall to her lap "And it's not a diagnosis, like they say it is. Talking about rehab and 'learning to live with the people'" I watched her eyes roll up to the ceiling, then around back to me. Once again I was struck by their cool paleness. "The truth is, they have probably handed me a death sentence.

"Casey. Is it?" She nodded, "Yeah it is. Well I'm a person who believes that below a certain quality of life, there is too much pain to justify living. You can probably tell, from my mum n'all." Clicking her tongue, the speech continued. "Now, you could argue that I'm being stupid, that life in prison is better than no life at all. That I'm depressed or suicidal or something along those lines.

"But I have been in custody since I was 12. It's been a long time since I've been out of here. A very... long time. Which is a shame because I was doing so well. I had plans. Ok?" Her emotions were changing so rapidly, now her watery eyes bored into mine. "I bet they didn't tell you psychopaths struggle to make long term plans? Well, I had so much I wanted to do. I was gonna be a Doctor."

"Well, I'm sorry about that but..."

Her eyes flicked to the side, "Hey, you know you're meant to be listening?"

"Yeah, Ok.. sorry." Jeez this kid is demanding.

"Most teenagers have fun. We are meant to be young and free." She glanced up again. "I told you I'd be out on my 18th, which is far-fetched, but possible. However, most likely I will be retried as an adult and recommended for life. Because apparently I am the most perfect psychopath ever known. And I must be researched and the public must be protected. Funny thing is, I don't recall being violent. Ever. Oh well..." She shrugged once more. "Truth is; I will never have my first sip of wine, and then a hangover. Never will I have my first kiss, or have sex. I won't graduate from college, or get married, have kids. Any of these milestones! I'll never have." Shaking her head, she moved her hands under the table. I heard the metal.