The Psychopath Maker

Chapter Thirty

It was three in the morning, Isabeth was wide awake and she hadn't downed a pot of coffee. She didn't need caffeine to keep her eyelids open as she sat in the passenger side of a luxury sedan. Fear chased away all her Z's all on its own. As she fiddled with the seatbelt strapped across her chest, her mind struggled with which thought was scarier: having to plan a prison break for psychopaths or being pregnant with a rapist's baby.

The door on the driver's side opened, the roof light shined over Isabeth's head, and Benny slid into the butterscotch seat. He closed the door and the light quickly went out.

"You want to do this now or later?" Benny handed her the paper bag.

Isabeth hesitantly took the bag from him. She didn't look in the bag. She just placed it in her lap as she kept looking at the gas station door. A gas station that was miles from Evening, in a town called New Foster. He insisted she needed to take a test and she was adamant about making sure no one, other than the two of them knew about the test.

Isabeth ripped the frayed edges of the bag, "I don't want to take it now.... later or ever. I don't want to be in this predicament."

"I thought all you girls were on the pill." He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. "My sisters are."

"I'm not your sister." Isabeth bellowed sitting up in the chair. "Stupid me! I didn't get birth control at twelve." She pressed her head on the headrest. "I didn't think I needed it. I wasn't going to have sex until I got married and if I got pregnant, it would be with my husband. No harm. No foul." She let out a heavy sigh, frowning as more tears collected in her eyes. She felt like all she had been doing for the last couple of weeks was crying. She was tired of crying.

"This is my fault." Benny dropped his hands from the wheel. "I never should have let this go this far."

"What?" Isabeth looked at Benny as the gas station's neon green sign shone over his olive face.

"He wasn't like that before." Benny raked his hands through his hair, messing up his tresses. "Fulton was my godfather, my dad's friend, and frat brother. He was Uncle John, before..." Benny stopped talking. He watched the limped-leg man shuffle into the gas station.

"Before what?" Isabeth asked turning her body toward him, engrossed in his candor.

"Before...before my dad, the new governor of Rhode Island asked him to look at a case off the books."

"How do you know this?" She skeptically asked.

"The governor's mansion has many rooms." He watched the limp-leg man hobble around the corner with a six-pack of beer cradled under his arm. "And I knew all the hiding places."

"What was this case?" Isabeth pulled her leg into the chair, giving Benny all her attention. "Who were they looking for?"

"The vampire." He slowly spoke.

Isabeth's mouth turned up, "Vampire...like Twilight or Lestat."

"Neither." Benny ignored her joking tone. "Like an amnesiac with a rare illness that always needs transfusions so he takes matters into his own hands."

Isabeth's eyebrows bunched up, "Takes matters into his own hands."

"He milks his donor of their blood until he drains them dry." Benny sniffed, then looked at her face; captivated with mortification. "Hence, the code name, The Vampire."

"I still don't understand how this made...." Isabeth's voice muted as his name floated into her mind. She didn't want to say it. "How this case made...your godfather, you know...a rapist."

"What is that saying? It's Nietzsche, I think." He swallowed lightly, taking in a breath. "Whoever fights a monster should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." He looked at Isabeth. "He slipped." He pulled his leg in the chair, completely facing Isabeth. "They don't call it The Psychopath Maker to be creative. He or she actually turns you. Those people trapped in Everclear were normal, model citizens until it turned them. And that's why we can't do this." He glued his eyes to Isabeth's orbs. "Cause one of us will be turned. One of us will be a psychopath."

"Never," Isabeth told with confidence.

"You're damn right." Benny declared sitting correctly in the seat. "Because I'm not letting it happen."

"Are going to just not do what it says?" Isabeth tugged at his arm. "This Psychopath maker threatened our family...friends."

Benny stared at her hand resting upon his bare forearm, "We're going to buy time...wait it out. Until The Impostor makes its move."

"The Impostor." Isabeth grasp on his arm grew tighter.

"There are nine psychopaths including The Maker and only six are locked away." Benny pulled the seatbelt across his body and locked it in place. "Fulton was looking for The Impostor because that's the person that works closely with the Maker. They know the Maker's identity...it's real name."

"Again..." Isabeth's perplexed eyes were wide. "How do you know all this?"

"I'm not crazy." Benny proclaimed as he twisted the key in the ignition, turning over the engine. "I didn't kill anyone. I just got too close...and woke up next to a dead body...five minutes before the police arrived." The shock made Isabeth drop her hand from his arm. Benny shifted the gear from park to reverse. "It's time for you to pee on the stick." He glanced in the rearview mirror.

Isabeth sat her elbow on the door and rested her chin on the back of her hand, "What am I going to do if it's positive."

Benny spun the car out of the parking lot. "We'll figure it out."

"We?" She asked

Benny shifted the gear to drive, "Yeah, we."

We've found out how many psychopaths there are and the M.O of one of them. So, how do you think The Impostor is?

So, Benny isn't actually crazy, how do you like that.