Page 52 of Brainwashed
Lost in my thoughts, I realize I’ve strayed from the mansion when I look up to see the overwhelming outline of Alabaster Penitentiary just through the trees. Pausing my steps, I stare at it, wondering what Felix is doing right now. And an unprecedented teeny tiny voice in the back of my mind urges me to keep walking.
To go into the prison, to the East Wing, to his cell. To watch him again, just to see what he does. Like the other night, when I peeked through that tiny window and observed him. Like an animal in the zoo. On display, forme.
It gives me that feeling again… The one deep in my gut, like a strange little tickle.Excitement.
I’d almost forgotten what this felt like. To be enraptured by something,seducedby it. So engrossed that all I want in the world is to sit beside it for hours and watch it behave.
Felix Darcey is exactly that. A dangerous animal behind bars. And I can’t help wanting to step inside his cage.
It’s why I told Officer Chevelle to instruct his men to leave Felix with me uncuffed and unshackled. No straitjacket, no laces. In my presence, I want him free to do whatever his twisted little mind wants to do. After all, the only way I’ll be able to truly get inside his head is to take him off the leash. If he bites someone, so be it.
I can protect myself against dangerous humans. Of that, I’m fully confident.
I pluck at the fabric of my tailored dress pants for a moment, surveying the prison until I decide to turn around and go back. I’ll see Felix tomorrow morning for our next session.No need to go and bother him tonight.
Strolling back inside the mansion, I weave through the maze of rooms, making my way to the stairs. My mind is swirling with questions for Felix as I ascend the marble staircase to the second floor, where my room is located. It’s interesting to me that The Ivory has all this space for essentially just himself, though I see him as a man who values his privacy.
Once inside my bedroom, I begin undressing for bed. I change into a white tee and gray sweatpants, considering for a moment if I’d like to go work out. I’m not tired in the slightest. In fact, my adrenaline has been buzzing like crazy since I got here. I’m lucky if I’m able to catch four hours at night. But even so, I manage to wake up refreshed and ready to go.
I wonder why…
Picking up my work phone from the desk, I open the recorder app and slide back to the beginning of the file, then press play, listening to Felix Darcey talking to me about his childhood. His voice is different from what I’d expected, although I’m not sure why. Maybe I didn’t expect him to sound so… melodious.Is that the right word?
Through the recorder, his voice is telling me about how he was always overshadowed as a child. By his mother and her mental health issues, by his father’s career. And then by his younger brother. Felix always felt invisible. But the way he talks about it isn’t regretful or whiny. He has this air of self-acceptance about him.
Felix is a complex man. He is veryaware, and it’s an interesting facet of his personality, because he also has obvious and severe insecurities. But it almost seems like he’s fine with them. Like he knows that he’s fucked up and he just sort of rolls with it. Very different from many other prolific serial killers like him.
He also takes full responsibility for what he’s done, which makes him the perfect specimen to examine. He doesn’t hide behind an illness that he so clearly has—from just our limited interactions so far, I’d say manic depressive, and antisocial personality disorder. He knows there’s something that makes him different from most other people, and he welcomes it.
I listen to Felix talking about his childhood fascination with dead bodies. Mostly animals, though he admits he paid extra attention to anatomy lessons in school. He says that he was never sure what he wanted to be, but he liked the idea of studying the human mind. It gives me a warm sensation in my gut, something like pride, because that’s what I do, and yes, itisfascinating. And then he mentions that he also kind of wanted to be a mortician, which doesn’t surprise me. Though his reasoning isn’t what you’d expect.
“I liked the idea of preserving them… The bodies,”his voice croons over my recorder while I sit down on my bed.“I wanted to make them up. Change their expressions based on their personalities.”
“Is that why you carved your victims?”My voice comes in. I recline slowly on my bed, lying down on my back.
“People hide so much in their faces,”he answers me. I remember him nodding at my question.“Smile when really, they’re sad… Frown when really, they have so much to be happy about…”
His voice trails as I stare up at the ceiling.
Thinking about what’s hidden beneathhissurface.
I’m already seated in the leather chair when the knock comes to my office door.
“Come in.” I fidget with some of my handwritten notes as one of the guards brings Felix into the room, the sounds of his chains clanking about.
The guard removes his cuffs and shackles and leaves without a word, which is good. This means they’re getting used to what I need from them, which is to blindly follow my orders. I don’t want to think that I’m drunk with power or anything, but I came here under the guise that the Warden was giving me full control of Mr. Darcey and how I choose to examine him.
Officer Chevelle and his team weren’t thrilled with it at first, becauseVelle,as they apparently call him, thrives on control.But his reins needed to be loosened for me to do the job I was hired to do.
Felix squirms in place for a moment before wandering over and taking a seat on the strange velvet couch across from my chair. He wiggles once more, and I give him a peculiar look as he pulls my book out of the back of his pants. He told me last time that he’s afraid to leave it in his cell, lest it go missing. And I would never admit it to anyone, but the satisfaction I felt from knowing he so greatly values my work was unlike anything I’ve felt before.
Obviously I don’t care what a sociopathic murderer thinks. I suppose it’s just exciting to know that my book is making an impression. With The Ivory and now The Carver. Though Felix doesn’t know thatIwrote the book…
I wonder what he would think if he knew…
“You can leave the book in your cell, Felix,” I tell him, and his eyes snap up to mine behind his black frames. “I’ll make sure no one takes it.”
“That’s a nice thought, Doc, but these people around here are…” He lets out a little scoff before saying, “Assholes.”
