Into the Darkest Minds

Act I

The play takes place in an isolated prison in Michigan. The stage is dim; there is a wooden table with two opposite plastic white chairs on either side. There are two people on either side of the table. The light is too dim to tell the shapes apart. It was deadly silent, save for the person on the right's heavy breathing.

Thompson: (with a distressed and shaky voice) Why? Why did you kill them? The-they did not de-deserve it! Don't just stare at me, speak!

The lights become slightly brighter. At the left, a young, blond, white woman of somewhat small figure. She had a forest green prisoner's suit on. On the right, a middle-aged man with a gray tuxedo bearing a disgusted expression.

Thompson: (breathes heavily) TELL ME!
Rose: (her voice was elegant, controlled, and paced) Going berserk will not aid your cause. You've no reason to speak to me that way or order me around. Know your place, investigator Thompson.
Thompson: You're right. Want some coffee and cookies to make our conversation more pleasant?
Rose: That would be lovely, inspector.
Thompson: It was sarcasm, you sick fuck. Being around you makes me nauseous.
Rose: I think I bathed fairly well this morning. No reason to vomit your insides out, dear inspector.
Thompson: You... you're a murderer.
Rose: And a good one, if I do say so myself. So good, in fact, that I make a living out of it.
Thompson: You are sick, you know that?
Rose: (sighs) I get paid to do this, it's my job. One defends their job in this capitalist economy, investigator. (Rose smiles after saying this, gleaming in delight).
Thompson: You feel no remorse? And why the hell are you smiling?
Rose: (her voice comes out as a chilling whisper) None, I never do. I can barely feel anything. Killing gives me a thrill unlike anything else.
Thompson: I'm going to be sick, gods above...
Rose: Have you ever heard of Antisocial Personality Disorder? I was officially diagnosed when I was 18, but I have been this way for as long as I can remember. Empty, emotionless, and cruel.

Time stops. Rose rises from her chair swiftly, turns, and talks directly to the audience, expressing her thought process in an eloquent manner.

Rose: For long as I can recall, I have had this disorder. This implies that my behavior is quite different from everyone else's. This disease was the cause of my downfall... I killed my parents, I burned them alive with my little brother. I spent months planning it. At night, I would take out my belongings and place them on our little tool house. I turned to fire, as to make it look like an accident. Gasoline became my best friend and fire, the way to eliminate those who mistreated me for so long; who I can barely call a family. They were my first and most enjoyable victims; they paid for their actions. It was self-defense... it was justice for everything they made me suffer through for being "too different". (Rose sits back down, and time resumes its course).

Thompson: So, you're an actual psycho, great. My job here is to figure out your motives to give the victim's families and this investigation a proper closure, and so you may serve your sentence without these unnecessary interruptions. Later, the Behavioral Unit will evaluate and interview you for research purposes, with your consent, of course. (Mumbling) I don't see how a monster like you would know what that is.
Rose: Pardon?
Thompson: They will work with you after. So, why did you do all of this?
Rose: Simple: for money. Write that down as my statement. I find it ridiculous that you care so much for the victims. The case is already closed.
Thompson: (Shouting) None of your business! It would make you look less guilty, less monstrous. (Sighs). And don't be so sure about your case being closed that easily.
Rose: My motives do not concern you or your department, inspector; just like your business isn't mine. That will be all. On with your day.

Inspector Thompson storms out through stage right. A few moments after, while the inspector's presence still lingers, a young man with a tanned complexion comes in through stage right. He walks calmly. He has a blue and white buttoned-down shirt, black dress pants, and black shoes. He has a brown notebook in his left hand. He sits where Inspector Thompson was before, takes out the pen from his pocket, and smiles warmly at the murderer sitting across from him.

Marcus: Hello, I am Marcus Rodríguez and I am a criminal psychologist and mental health investigator. I work for the Behavioral Unit and I am here to talk to you, if I may, about your Antisocial Personality Disorder and your killings.
Rose: Greetings, doctor. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And sure, take all the information you need. I shall be one of your lab rats.