k i tShe reminded me of Grace. Of course, she looked nothing like her, not with her long, light hair and dark eyes, her curvy figure and a voice that proved she had come out of the womb smoking fags. No, on the outside, she wasn't my Grace. I didn't even want to look in her direction when they brought me in. I had only glanced into her cell to help cure the boredom I was sure to endure. She was something new. A glance was all I was going to give her, but she spoke at me with so sharp a tongue that I couldn't help myself from talking. Given that we couldn't see each other from our respective cells, it was easy to pretend that Kati was her. My Grace.
It was on the rare occassions that I actually listened to what Kati had to say, not just the hum of her voice, that I learned things. She had the undeniable fire that every new-comer with a little bit of sanity held; she would bust out of here if it was the last thing she did. She didn't try to convince me she was innocent, like Grace had. She took full responsibility for all 15 people she had murdered over the past 3 years, all whom had their eyes gouged out, and if that didn't kill them, strangulation. She was proud of her work and she thought of it as an art. Kati told me she had discovered her talent when she was just 15, a little freshman in high school. I discovered she was only 19. That didn't stop me from fantasizing, from imagining her touch to be just like Grace's, for her tongue to do all the wicked things that Grace's did. After all, a man can dream, can't he?
I wasn't sure how long we had been there, alone, only the occasional guard stopping by to give us sad excuses for food, when she stopped talking. Normally, it was hard for her to shut up, but that day, silence hung over me like a thick blanket. After some time had passed (who knows the specifics, really) I spoke out.
"Kati?" Nothing. "Kati?" More silence. "You can't ignore me forever, you know."
It was silent for a bit more before she croaked back to me. "That can be considered plagiarism, you know. Stealing my line."
I felt myself smile. Not a real one, showing teeth and radiating happiness and all that bullshit, but it was still a smile. "It's a good thing I'm already locked up then." I heard her chuckle. After a few more bouts of silence, I spoke up again. "Hey, you've been in here for a while, right?"
"Yeah." Her voice was soft. "A year, I think."
"You haven't seen Sister Jude, have you? Or Sister Mary Eunice? Maybe even Dr. Arden?"
"Can't say I've heard of them. Although it's not like I see much of anyone down here." Confusion was an unfamiliar emotion for me, at least in this place. Anger, sure. Terror, for certain. But never once had nothing not made as much sense as this; for everyone to just... disappear? I hadn't been gone that long. "I miss it."
Shit. Kati must have been talking and, not for the first time, I hadn't been listening. "Sorry, what?"
"Touch. I miss being touched." Her words made me realize how cold my skin felt. "I haven't left this cell in weeks. My whole body hurts." She paused for only a moment. "Would you touch me, Kit? If we weren't separated by these walls, these steel doors... would you?"
Her voice was desperate and sultry all at once. I couldn't help myself from closing my eyes and thinking of Grace. "Kit?"
"Of course, Grace. You know what I'd love to do to you."
Kati coughed. "Who's Grace?" Her little mood was clearly over.
I sighed, leaning my back against the damp wall. "Somebody I used to know."
"You aren't talking about Grace Bertrand, are you? The French girl who killed her parents? It would be an honor to know her. She's badass. Did you know she - "
I slammed my hands against the door, the sound resonating through the empty hall. "You shut up about my Grace. You shut up!"
"Kit, I - "
"I liked it better when you weren't running your mouth." Kati shut up almost immediately. I could hear her crying. Funny, how a sociopathic killer can cry over a boy. I guess even psychos believe there's someone for everyone.
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I'm Not Crazy (American Horror Story)
FanfictionA question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?