Page 119 of Brainwashed
“Wait, what?? I don’t want to be injected… what is that shit?” Felix tries to squirm around, but he can’t really move.
Templeton grips his arm still, injecting a long needle into him. Felix bites his lip.
When the syringe is empty, Templeton hands it off to Figueroa, holding a gauze pad on the injection site for about five seconds. Then he nods at Johansson.
“What did you… give me…” Felix’s voice drifts off, his head sort of lolling.
I swallow hard, stepping in front of the window fully.He’s blindfolded, anyway.
“We’re going to ask you some questions, Felix, and we just want you to answer however you see fit,” Johansson instructs. “Whatever comes to mind first, okay?”
“You’re an asshole.” Felix giggles.
I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to subdue my own smirk.
Johansson ignores him and asks, “Please state your full name, age, and place of birth for us.”
Felix blows out a breath. “Felix Harmon Darcey, age twenty-three.” He’s obviously feeling pretty relaxed because he’s no longer fighting his restraints, and he seems very casual. “I was born and raised in… Ridgefield, baby! Go tigers!” He laughs out loud.
They’re all still stone-faced and serious in the room, jotting down notes on their charts.
“Felix, what did your parents do for a living?” Johansson asks.
“My father was a neuroscientist at Yale and my mother was a… bitch.” He snorts. “No, she was a homemaker.”
“Can you tell us about your mother’s mental health diagnoses?”
His shoulder does a little shrug. “She never told us about it… Me and Zach. But I know she was on meds and she hated taking them.”
“What do you believe she suffered from?”
“Fuck if I know. You’re the doctors, you tell me.” His fingers wiggle. “Her moods were violently up and down… Manic highs and then bouts of depression. She really only cared about herself, no sense of protection for us. Her relationship with my father was toxic because he was the polar opposite of her, and it made no sense for them to be together in the first place. Two wildly different personalities…” His voice trails and I witness his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
Templeton is scribbling notes so fast it looks like his fingers are going to fly off. And I’m just staring, observing Felix, because these are things I already know. We all know about his home life at this point. But I guess the point of the experiment is to watch him talk about it, and monitor his vitals while he does.
“Now tell us about your time at LIU,” Johansson instructs.
“College was alright, but it wasn’t for me,” he breathes carelessly.
“Why do you say that?”
“It didn’t hold my attention enough. Once I discovered my true purpose…” He licks his lip slowly.
“And what is your true purpose?” All eyes are on Felix as his lips curve.
“I’m the bad guy,” he says with as much confidence as I’ve ever heard from him. “I’m the monster that lurks in the shadows. The evil that sends a chill up your spine and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. I’m just me. The Carver isme.”
The doctors are silent, gaping at him for a solid three seconds before they begin scratching out more notes. They look vastly intrigued. We all do, and I guess that means we’re all a bit twisted, because this is the stuff that makes our tummies tingle.
Being in the presence of something the world would consider real evil.And in such a normal-looking package, too.Fascinating.
I move into the doorway while Johansson is asking, “Who was your favorite victim?”
Felix laughs. “That’s like asking me to pick my favorite child! Impossible. But I will say that I had fun with each of them, in their own, special ways.”
“You can’t pick a favorite… not even Emmanuel Pedroia?”
Felix pouts. “Emmanuel could have been the love of my life. I think…” He goes a bit wistful, and I really wish he wasn’t blindfolded so I could see his eyes.
