Monster Minds [completed]

Chapter 23

"The demons wanted girls. Sugar and Spice and everything nice."

- David Berkowitz, an American serial killer who murdered six people in New York City in 1976–77. Known as Son of Sam, Berkowitz was arrested on August 10, 1977, 11 days after his last murder, and was sentenced to 365 years in prison.

Chapter 23 

The rain padded softly onto the prison driveway, washing away the blood of the man who had been shot five times through the chest while attempting an escape. The body had already been taken away by the time I arrived in the morning, hoodie strings pulled tight over my blonde waves.

I hadn't slept after my father left my room to make 'a phone call'. I just felt this incredible pressure on my gut, telling me that something terrible was about to happen. Nothing I did lifted the weight even slightly. Whatever this pressure was, it pulled me towards the prison in the early hours of the morning.

At first I thought it was the death that drew me to the prison. But, as the rain continued to soak through my clothes and wash the cement clean, the pressure didn't dissipate. Instead, its hands greedily pushed my belly harder as if to make a show of its presence.

A shiver crept its way up my spine as the cool water droplets began to sink through the material of my undershirt. I felt frozen in my spot as the rain began to fall heavily. 

The raindrops thudded on my hooded head and caught onto the end of my pointed nose, rolling off onto the ground at my feet. No inch of the ground was safe, the rain fell everywhere, turning everything a shade or two darker than it already was. I watched the earth change colour beneath my feet, fascinated at how quickly the world could change.

It was then I realized that if I stood in the rain any longer I would surly catch a nasty cold.

With a numb mind and body, I walked aimlessly to the doorway of the prison. I wasn't even sure if I was still employed under my father's name, as he had clearly taken me off the case and could have fired me entirely. But, with nothing better to do, I tried my luck, yanking open the large door with my sore arms.

Instead of being greeted by a rush of heated air, the room remained the same temperature as outside. The only thing that stopped me from turning entirely blue was the cease of rain once I had a roof above my head.

I shrugged my jumper off of my shoulder and hung it on the clothes rack next to the office ladies desk. With the controlled temperature, I prayed my body would adapt and left the saturated material behind. I didn't bother signing my name at the desk; afraid they would tell me to go home.

However, as I passed the desk, I expected to hear a shout of protest at my doing so, but instead was greeted with silence. In fact, no one sat behind the front desk at all.

That's odd.

I frowned, contemplating if I should call out to double check that no one was there. But then again, I also didn't want to hear anything negative about my career. I decided to shrug it off and continued my walk down the hall. Passing a final fleeting look over my shoulder, I again saw no movement behind the desk, or in the room behind it.

I itched to report their incompetence, but since my tape recorder was in the hands of my father, I would never get the chance.

As I walked the halls, it became clear to me how empty the prison was. Another shiver crept up my spine, this one not due to the cold. There should have been a guard stationed in each corridor, especially leading up to the cafeteria. I expected it to be lined with guards as I entered the vacant cafeteria, like there usually is, but not one uniformed man stood in the room.