“He’s all yours, Doctor,” the taller CO said, following the shorter, stockier one out of the room, leaving Gerald and me alone.
I examined him closely, noting the fine lines beginning to etch his face and the dark shadows under his eyes. Prison had evidently taken its toll on him, yet the malevolence in his gaze indicated he was far from defeated. He wouldn’t give up; he never would. I recalled the kind eyes I once knew before the devil's darkness consumed him and twisted his essence, channeling his wickedness into me.
I began to wonder if my mother had seen the darkness in him before the night she died. Did she only recognize the kindness and love before the devil took them away? Were those the same eyes that she fell in love with, the eyes that had witnessed my arrival into this world and my growth into adulthood?
I felt uncertain about which side of Gerald I would encounter tonight, but I hoped, at the very least, to gain something meaningful from our meeting. Gerald suffered from the same affliction as I did; schizophrenia coursed through our lineage, choosing who it would torment. God knew what he was capable of, and deep down, he understood that I was destined to follow in his footsteps. We were the two unfortunate souls effected by this disease, ensnared by forces determined to see us struggle. Yet the devil welcomed us—broken as we were—embracing us with pride as each horror unfolded.
Throughout my life, I wrestled with the concepts of God and the devil. It wasn’t until recently that my faith in God faded, while my belief in the devil intensified. If there were a God, why was there so much suffering in the world? So much darkness? So much death? So much sadness? Why were loved ones taken from us when we least expected it? If there were a God, none of thiswould be allowable. So I leaned towards the notion of a devil, attributing every misfortune to him.
My demons manifested in many forms, names, and appearances—all dangerous men with who I should have never gotten involved with. Yet I felt an irresistible pull towards them; the danger only heightened my desire. I was hooked, not seeking redemption or salvation. Instead, I longed to embrace my darkness and honor my devils—both living and dead—and I thought I had discovered the perfect way to do it.
I glanced at Gerald, watching a devious smirk form across his lips as he stared at me, taking in my appearance, admiring the person I had become after everything we had endured. When his gaze met mine, the color drained from his face, leaving him ghostly pale as he recognized something in me. His jaw clenched as we sat in silence, neither quite knowing how or where to begin.
But that was how our visits often unfolded: steeped in silence, punctuated by only a few spoken words before time slipped away. I had prepared for this encounter to follow the same pattern, so when his first words broke the silence, I found myself momentarily stunned, following his commands as if under a spell.
“Sit up straight, Scarlett. You know I never liked you hunched over,” Gerald commanded, interlocking his fingers and resting his fists on the table, the cuffs jingling against the metal.
He leaned closer, gesturing for me to do the same, his menacing gaze locked onto mine. I gripped the pen in my hand, pushed my notebook aside, and slowly leaned in closer, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, igniting a fire that melted away the coldness surrounding me.
“You look just like your mother when I met her,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper, making my heart race. “You’ve inherited your mother’s beauty, but you’ve got my eyes;I can see the same darkness, the same evil that resides within me. There’s no denying you are my daughter, Scarlett. So how long do you think you can keep anyone from discovering the truth?”
“I’ve got it under control, Dad. Don’t worry. Just keep silent about me, and we’ll be fine,” I assured him, referring to my position as his therapist as an excuse for our meetings.
It wasn’t coincidental; our encounters were entirely intentional. I had devised this plan, but he had the larger scheme—that’s why I was here, freezing in a maximum-security prison, hours away from the sanctuary I thought I’d found in the church.
“That’s my girl,” he said with palpable pride, and for a fleeting moment, it almost brought me to tears, seeing and hearing this version of him instead of the monstrous one who had stolen my mother’s life right before my eyes. “I want you to write some things down, study them, and ensure they're completed before you return or make any further moves.”
He assessed me, gauging whether I could fulfill his demands, whether I would do his bidding. I was his daughter through and through, more like him than to my mother—a truth I reluctantly accepted.
I grasped my pen and slid the notebook before me, diligently noting down the details he whispered across the table, maintaining a stoic expression while confronting the devilish gleam in his eyes that threatened to draw me deeper into his malevolent world. His voice calmed the chaotic parts of me, his presence blocking out the shadows that lurked in the corners of the room, making me feel oddly relaxed and strangely comfortable. It served as a sobering reminder of how twisted my thoughts had become, considering that this vile murderer could somehow alleviate my pain and provide a sense of normalcy—without any medication.
“Do your homework before you carry out the plan,” he whispered again once I finished jotting everything down.
As I glanced at the names I had written, it dawned on me that these were the names of some of the COs here—the ones typically overseeing him.
“Is this an elaborate scheme to get you out of here?” I asked, curiosity piqued. “Because if it is, I’ll do whatever you need to facilitate your escape. Just name it, Dad.”
He grinned, leaning back with his chin raised slightly, exuding a sense of reassurance. “I always knew I could count on you, Scarlett. You would never let your father down. Would you?”
I shook my head, caught in a trance. “No. Never.”
“Good,” he said, and the sinister tone in his voice sent goosebumps racing along my arms. “Now, keep your head clear and remember what we talked about. Trust no one. Not even those who pretend to be your friends.”
I nodded absentmindedly, my thoughts swirling with the implications of what he was asking. This was about far more than just helping him; this was a descent into the abyss, and I could feel the edge of it beckoning me with open arms.
“Things have changed, Scarlett,” he continued, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he derived wicked pleasure from my confusion. “The only way out is to break the rules. And your mother taught me about breaking rules. So did you.”
His words lingered between us like a fog, thickening the air and wrapping around my throat. Memories of late-night conversations flowed back to me—the whispers of rebellion and the shared secrets that had bonded us through years of silence. The determination to live life on my own terms, the thrill of daring to defy authority.
“And if I do this…” I started, wrestling with the logistics of such a dangerous endeavor. “What’s in it for me?”
“Your freedom, darling. Your truth. Or at least the semblance of control in a life weighed down by fear,” he replied, locking his gaze onto mine and drawing me ever closer to the precipice. “And not just your freedom—think of the lives you can change. The power you can wield. Our blood runs through their veins and with it, we keep the cycle alive.”
The cycle. The weight of it sat heavy on my chest, but I couldn’t deny the allure. I had spent so much of my life trying to escape the shadows of our lineage that perhaps the thought of embracing it was intoxicating.
“You’ll have to be clever,” he murmured, his voice low and conspiratorial. “We’ll use their own systems against them. Manipulation, deception—they’re the tools we’ll wield to bring chaos. And you won’t be alone. You have allies, Scarlett.”
Allies? The thought of enlisting the help of the very people who might one day expose me sent a chill down my spine. I had crafted a life in this town, built a reputation. But what if he was right? What if the darkness I had embraced was a resource, an arsenal waiting to be unleashed?
