“Yes, I care for her. She is a close friend.” I replied as I watched him write.
“Why did you kill James?” He asked me as he put his notebook away and closed the folder, sitting back, the question burning me. I breathed a smooth steady breath.
“Why?” I asked him. He looked at me from his judgmental chair next to me. He just sat, waiting for me to tell him why I had killed my boyfriend, why I had done it so violently.
“Well I will tell you.” I positioned myself so that I was looking right at him. He waited for me, and I wanted to let him wait for me.
“Since I was a young girl, I have had urges, feelings that I can only subdue by killing. I killed my mother’s goose and her eight chicks when I was nine or ten. I then killed cats, dogs, calves, spiders, and whatever else I could get my hands on. In high school I was going to kill my first human but he had to go and have a fucking heart attack on me! It
would have been amazing, but no, he died of his own making.” I paused and looked at the guy; he did not seem affected by any of this.
“Last night, oh what a night.
James was his name; he was my first human kill. I loved it, wanted him and I killed him. How I made sweet love to him last night, love with my hands, my cold metal knives on his skin; the best love I know how to make. He raped my friend and I killed him for her. I made lustful love to him one last time, the last time before I took the life that filled the shell he lived by.” I paused again; this time the man looked a little bewildered by how I explained my night to him. I smiled deep down inside of myself.
“I have never heard it put that way before.” The man told me, I smiled at him.
“Well I am one of a kind.” I replied in a sweet voice.
“Yes you are.” He replied, I could
see him thinking. He was thinking hard about something very important. Then he pulled out his notebook and jotted something down again, he then returned his gaze to me.
“Well I guess that brings us to the reason why you are here.” He told me as he held the folder out in the air. The door at the other end of the room opened, a short compact man came in. He wore a black, pin striped suite and held a different manila folder in his hands, they swapped folders and the little man left the room. Leaving me and the blue suited man alone once again, in the white room. I cannot explain to you at this point in time how fucking confused and just mind boggled I was at all this.
“
Yes, that reason.” I stated. Course I knew this would be one of the topics of the night, since I was bound to the bed.
“Y
es.” He replied as he opened the folder and read through it slowly. His eyes fixed on the white pages before him. He hummed to himself every now and then when he found something interesting. It felt like hours before he looked up from the folder and looked at me. His eyes still so cold, though they had become colder since he read through the folder.
“So, what about that reason
?” I asked curiously, I wanted to know what it was he wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about me. I smiled. He sighed again.
“We’ve been watching you
for a while now.” He told me. That shocked me a tad.
“Really? I have sparked the interest of uh….what branch are you with? CIA, FBI or some other branch?” I asked him.
“Yes, you sparked our interest. Did you think taking out all those books on famous killers and researching the things you did on top of being enrolled in a Forensic Science degree would go unnoticed?” He told me, I never thought of that. Damn, those books left out that little detail. Do not rent books on famous killers, they will find you! He did not want to tell me what branch he belonged to.
“I did not think of that.” I ad
mitted to him, he raised an eyebrow.
“We did not think you had.” He told me smugly as he crossed his arms.
“Well you don’t have to be that smug about the whole thing.” I retorted.
“As of this moment in time we are attempting to figure out what to do with yo
u.” He told me. I raised my eyebrows.
“Really? Explain.” I stated.
I was somewhat pleased by this, I was dangerous enough for a government body to keep tabs on me.
“Well you clearly are good at killing.
You’ve been killing since you were really young and that skill has shined through. The way you killed James last night showed us, that we don’t want you running amuck on the streets without being watched.” He explained to me.
“Ok,
but you just repeated everything I just told you about me. How about a little info for me. Give me some bait.” I asked him, he narrowed his eyes as he looked back at the glass window. A loud firm knock tapped on the glass.
“
You are in a CIA holding cell. We raided your apartment last night, going to arrest you. We found you with the body of James and brought you here.” The man told me. That was nothing, I still felt empty.
“Really? That’s all you are going to give me?” I questioned him. Another
knock on the glass, he sighed a very heavy sigh as he lowered his head and rolled his eyes.
“Should we be telling her all this? At this stage in the game?” He asked blankly. It was a few minutes before the door across the ro
om opened. Standing in the doorway was yet another man, ugh. Why is it another man? I have seen plenty of men, and plenty of them to last me awhile. I rolled my eyes as he approached the bed I was restrained to. His eyes looked softer, yet fierce. His hair was short, buzzed and I thought it looked almost black, but a very dark brown. His eyes were hazelnut and he had a mustache. His face was rounded and his cheeks were red, either by the adrenaline rushing through his body or from the alcohol he had just consumed. Which by the way would be illegal for a man of law to do, just before an interrogation.
Course if I had his job, I would have started to drink heavily the day I was hired. The shit these people see on a day to day basis, the people they hunt d
own. The horrors they see everyday. Geez, a normal person would go crazy; I’d recommend professional help for this guy. He looks like he needs it, looks like he needs a good fuck, a tall glass of more alcohol, and some porn to go with all of that. Those are some good outlets for the horrific scenes and the ghastly things he would see on a daily occurrence.
Maybe he and my therapist could do each other a favor now and then and fuck each other, and end the night with a few sniffs of mind blowing cocaine.
They better not fucking pass out in my therapy cellar, god forbid them from doing that there. They might never wake from their sex drug coma. I would have to make sure they never wake to the horrors of the everyday life they live now. It would be too depressing for them to wake to this again, to start life. The alcoholic government agent and the hired therapist to coach the serial killer into being sane for another week, before she loses it all and kills everyone!
This guy’s eyes looked at me from their judgmental point of view.
“Odette, we need you to understand where we are coming from.” The red face asshole told me.
“I am having a hard time understanding when I know nothing
.” I replied, I was getting upset now. These fuckers, they probably knew everything about me and I knew nothing, while I was being held in a CIA holding cell.
“Yes, we know everything about you.” The blue suit said. I knew it.
“Ok guys, you got to give me something here. Something other than the nothing you have just fed me.” I told them both. The red faced man sat down on the bed and sighed.
“Don’t, Kevin.” The blue
suited man said as he looked at the other man.
“Mike, leave it be, we have to tell her. I got orders from above to tell her.” The red face guy said. Kevin huffed loudly as he turned to look at me.
“Is Ian in on this?” Kevin asked.
“No, not yet.” Mike replied, Kevin shot him a deadly look.
“Well I am not going to be the one to tell him about this.” Kevin spoke harshly.
“Depending on what our little guest decides on doing, will depend on if Ian finds out.” Mike was still looking at me. I twisted my hands up into the air and smiled a sarcastic smile.
“Ok guys, you got me hanging over here. The anticipation is killing me.” I spoke loudly.
“We are a part of the CIA.” Mike started.
“We find serial killers, such as you, train them, make sure they are loyal to the CIA, make sure they have nowhere to go but here, we make them assassins and send them out into the world with targets.” Kevin explained.
“These targets we give them, the assassins are ordered to kill them. But only after they are interrogated, in some cases. In many cases we just want our targets dead.” Mike picked up, both men now looking at me.
“We feel that, people like you, who are born like this, can be put to good use.” Kevin explained.
“That your abilities and your skills could be
put to better use, to help for the good, to give you a mission and to fulfill your urges. We give you people we want dead, and you kill them for us, satisfying everything that a serial killer craves.” Mike told me. This spiked my interest greatly. This might be something I could do; I wanted to hear more, I wanted to be a part of this.
“I am interested, very interested.” I told them both. Kevin sighed a heavy sigh and Mike smiled.
“I am not telling Ian about this.” Kevin said as he walked up to Mike and spoke harshly into his ear as he walked out of the room.
“We will get one of the interns to tell him.” Mike shouted as Kevin stopped before leaving the white room. Mike went to my
wrists; he stopped and looked at me.
“I am going to let you go.” He spoke slowly. I smiled a joyful smile.
“I am not going to kill you if that’s what you mean.” I told him, laughing out loud. He smiled as he undid my restraints. I sat up, holding my wrists.
“Thank you.” I told him as I sat on the edge of the bed. He sat next to me.
“James gave you a really good concussion last night.” Mike told me. I squinted as I felt the lump on my skull.
“I was afraid of tha
t. You know, he almost got the better of me last night.” I told him as I ran my hand through my hair.
“Yes, he did.” Mike replied to my comment.
“So this whole thing about training me and setting me out on missions to kill people, is that a legit offer?” I asked him looking right at him. His face was fierce, he had been doing this for a while I could tell, his eyes had seen a lot.
“Yes
it is. Well it’s either that or prison.” He told me standing up.
“Ah. I see.” I paused, pretending to think it over as if it were a really hard decision to make.
“I don’t know, prison is where all the in people go. All those women who are caged, raped, beaten and all they get is cat instead of dick. All those angry, spiteful, feminists, man hating women all locked up in one place. It is like a feeding ground once a month. What do you guys feed them? Cow? Giraffes? Hippos, whales? Well whatever it is it must be large, cause those women will all be bleeding for a whole week. God, just give them chocolate, all the carbs they want and some really good porn; that would solve your issue right there.” I went off on a rant. He just stood there listening. I sighed, thinking again.
“Then there is the CIA, where you are all so professional about things. You kill people quietly, in the dark, no cement cage with cold metal bars. You pay me, that’s the biggest plus right there. I get to live in an apartment and you pay me to kill people. Jes
us, those are the winning factors right there. Sign me up captain!” I told him excitedly.
“Plus…” I paused as I leaned in closer to him. “Those women in the prison scar
e the fucking crap out of me. I can see why they are so annoying, I mean not being able to have sex with an actual guy for years, that’s murder right there.” I whispered to him, he smiled at me as he shook his head.
“You and Ian will get along great.” Mike stated
with a smile. Who was Ian I wondered.
“Who is Ian?” I asked him, Mike smiled at me as he stood.
“You will meet Ian in the next day or so.” Mike explained to me. I really wanted to know who this man was, he sounded like a badass. From what I have gathered from the little they spoke of him. What was it with government officials saying so little and repeating everything you told them, in a different way?
“So what happens now?” I asked him.
“Well now you will be brought into the CIA, you will be trained and you will kill, kill for us. For the U.S. Government.” He told me. I sat thinking on my bed now, maybe going to jail was a better option. I tilted my head as I thought. Mike looked at me.
“You getting cold feet?” He asked me. I laughed.
“No, no cold feet over here.” I replied. Killing for the CIA, it had a nice ring to it.
“Good.” Mike replied.
That was the day my life changed, when I truly became me. A whole wide world of targets, and people whom I have and would kill. Kill for the government. I was turned from a ruthless serial killer, cat killer and backyard armature into a lethal weapon. I was guided, trained and pointed in the direction I found myself in right now. I sat in that white holding cell, on that white bed in my johnnies. My black hair coated in dried blood and my face had been cleaned a little but I still felt the crusty blood there. I suddenly found myself smiling as I stood, I wanted this and I welcomed it.