Monster Minds [completed]

Chapter 16

"How's this for a headline? 'French Fries.'"

-James French, already in prison for life for killing a motorist who had picked him up from hitchhiking in 1958, afraid to commit suicide, murdered his cellmate, apparently to compel the state to execute him. He was executed by electric chair on August 10th, 1966. His last words are seen above.

*Warning, graphic content ahead*

Chapter 16

"Are you even allowed to take me to them without any guards?" Vans spoke up from behind me as we weaved our way out of the Cafeteria. I bit the inside of my cheek in angst; I hadn't thought about that.

"No." I said, continuing to press through the crowd of occupied tables and chairs.

"Then how is this going to work?"

"Have a little faith, Vans. I know what I'm doing." I said, trying to reassure myself.

He stayed silent for the rest of the time we spent finding our way out of the hall. When we reached the doors, the guards stationed on either side of the doors straightened, still wanting to prove their worth. I gave them my best smile, wide and toothy, and did my best to seem in control of the situation.

"I require the two guards to accompany myself and this prisoner to the Welshes office. I have important business to discuss with them regarding this prisoner. Would you do me the honor of being those two guards?" I asked sweetly, giving the impression that this job was of the utmost importance.

"Of course, Miss Silverman." One man said, the thick Russian accent catching my attention.

I snapped my eyes up to his face and visually imprinted his appearance into my brain. With his thick black beard and bald head, he would be easy to remember, especially because my determination was involved. Gazing into his blue eyes, I realized who he was. He was Alexi Mikhailov, the man who was number one on my guard suspect list. I remembered his appearance from his file, blue eyes and a bald, round head. It was the new beard that had thrown me off my game, the black mess hiding half of his facial features.

I gestured for them to lead the way with a smile, making sure Vans and I were at a safe talking distance away from them. We were silent for a while; watching the guards in front of us stalk forwards with determination and pride in their stride, hands curled into fists at their sides, butts eating their pants.

"That was clever." Vans whispered, brushing his arm against mind.

Butterflies bloomed in my stomach, delicately fluttering their wings against my interior, awakened by a light breeze of affection. I stared at the ground to hide my reddening cheeks, afraid he would see the liking I had taken to him.

"They can't follow us all the way to the door, Vans. I think one of them was the other guard on the recording." He stiffened beside me, unsettled by my contemplations.

"I can start something with someone who is inside one of these cells. Would that help?" He whispered, gesturing to the cells we passed.

Unease filled me. The cells we were walking through held only the most dangerous of the inmates, the ones who had to eat their lunch inside their cells, and the ones who were isolated from everybody else.

"Maybe," I said, licking my lips, "we have to try."

He nodded stiffly and drifted from my side towards one of the cells. The guards continued walking, not realising what was about to happen, as Vans tapped his fingers against the metal bars of the cell.

"Hey faggot, how's the life of isolation treating you? Have you started imaging things yet? Have you created an imaginary best friend? Can I meet him? I know it must be a man because you seem to like things up the ass—"