Burlap

22 - Killer Likes Candy

The sharp edges of the broken chain links left bloody trails of superficial scratched down my bare arms, catching on my blouse and ripping holes in the expensive lace. Not that the top was in pristine condition anyway, with the abundance of mud, leaves, and cave water staining the material. Impulse and strong emotion had led me to make unsavory and unwise decisions before in my life, but never ones with such consequences as the ones I knew Shilling would reign down on me once I re-entered the building. The leaves of the overgrown bush rustled and grabbed at my clothes as I shuffled by it, in some way warning or begging me not to go back.

Admittedly, my night of freedom from Rosenton tempted me beyond what should have ever been possible. Spending my second night away from the imposing building and terrifying staff left me wanting more, despite the fact that I’d slept on a hard, unforgiving cave ground all night. My body may have been stiff and sore, but my mind felt refreshed and capable again. The only problem being what Shilling would do to me once he found me back in my ward.

Of course, Ernie’s death replayed in my head, over and over again all night long. Like some sick picture show, where I was the only one in the audience. The blood, the scent of charred human flesh, the sight of his severed limbs being tossed in a canvas bag and thrown unceremoniously into a shallow, hidden grave. We’d given him no funeral or even so much as a peaceful moment of silence. No prayers to admit his spirit into heaven. If he hadn’t taken care of his spirit in life, I couldn’t see what good the prayers of his murderers would do for him, anyway.

Stop being so cynical. You didn’t even do anything. George killed him. Ed burned him. George dismembered him. John buried him. What did you do? Sit at the sidelines and watch for the guard who never showed up? You think you’re so bad, Sane, and that’s hilarious. You didn’t even want to me kill those evil piles of garbage that abused you for fun at Jensen and Sons. You’re no murderer. You’re just an emotional little girl who feels bad for things she didn’t even have the guts to do.

I thought back to the electricity in George’s eyes that night. How he’d been excited and more than elated to have done what he did. He’d been proud of his work, and had gained real, pure joy from taking another man’s life. Then, he’d expected me to feel the same thing, when all I could truly feel was shock and horror. Ernie had attacked me, but I hadn’t wanted the man to die.

It would have happened again and again until one of you died anyway. You should be thanking George for cutting your suffering short and making you come out the winner so soon.

I scoffed as I limped down the garden path, staying in the shadows and scanning the area for orderlies to avoid.

You know it’s true. George is strong. Much stronger than you could ever hope to be without me. Come on, Sane. Why don’t we strike up a deal, hm? Something to benefit us both?

No way under the sun. I’d been down that path one time too many. Power had lost her mind if she thought I’d even entertain the thought of striking a deal with her.

She pouted. Don’t be like that, Saney. We’ve had good times together. You’re just too uptight to properly enjoy it. Will you just listen to my idea?

No.

Well, it’s a good thing you’re forced to listen to my voice inside your head anyway, isn’t it? Look. You give me complete control when things get out of hand again, because you and I both know that will happen in this hellhole, and I’ll stop insulting you.

Oh, please, I thought, picking up my pace to make it to the back door to the building. I’d been insulted my entire life. Her petty words had never affected me the way she wanted them to.