“Penelope Karner,” I groused, telling the truth.
He must have been able to tell, because he hummed in satisfaction and loosened his grip.
“How can I help?” a nurse said, coming up behind us while the doctor still nattered.
“This one has aheadache,” Darling said.
“Nah, I’m all good now, actually,” I said brightly, trying to step away from him. “I’ll just head back to my cell, and we can all get on with our day…”
Darling yanked me back, and the nurse frowned, looking like she wanted to ask if I was okay, or have a rant at Darling for his treatment of me. An ally. Nice.I looked down at her name tag, which just said ‘Sally’, and locked that away.
Sally = Ally,hah.
“Isolation,” he spat then, and this time it wasn’t a suggestion.
Dang.
Two
Penny
Isolation isn’t the worst place to be in here, I mean, it sucks, no proper bed, the toilet even more dilapidated than the usual, and the food was even shitter, but at least I could be alone. Alone was such a hard state to come by in prison.
Solitary didn’t make me calmer; it fed that hunger.
It was such a rare treat to be by myself, and it had only happened a handful of times since I’d been caught on that street outside the bar, covered in my last victim’s blood and trying not to throw up as I thought about it drying on my skin.
Alone meant that my thoughts could shout.
Police officers, lawyers, jurors and judges and sneering faces had all followed me until it was guards and COs and co-inmates. Not a shit nor a shower in peace or privacy unless I was in here. For eight long years, it had been that way.
It took two years for me to slip up and get caught, and nineteen before that to lose the last ebbs of my sanity.
So, the occasional fight worked in my favor, letting my mind breathe.Thanks Mandy.
“Thanks, Mandy!” I yelled, knowing she must be in here with me somewhere, just a ways down the hall with her squashed face and anger vibrating off her in stinky waves. “Hope you’re having as nice a time as I am!”
Someone rattled their door, but Mandy didn’t shout back.
I laughed to myself and settled on my thin mattress, ready to sink into wherever my mind wanted to take me.
Usually, it was to one of my kills, back when life was good and free and blood crusted my fingernails. I was in here for three murders and played a blinder keeping my mouth shut about the others.
But that last one, that expression on his face as he went, the way I saw every millisecond of life force leaving him, mmm, I could reminisce about that all day and not get bored. It was the glittering green of his eyes,reflected with an alcohol haze and the lights from the streets, seeing all of that dull away.
The metallic stench of blood, the butcher shop scent of churned up organs… the frigid knife handle, the look on my sister’s face when she first broke…
I let my hands drift over my body, enjoying the privacy, and thought about that first one I’d been convicted of. He’d raped my sister, almost fucking killed her with how much it messed her up. His death had been a mystery for years, cold leads and dried up clues.
Apparently, I was good at what I did. My lawyer told me it made me cocky. I told her I didn’t care.
Shoving that baseball bat up my victim’s ass as he died was the least I could do for his troubles. And I could live off the memories forever — those smells, the grunts, the idea of that final second of his life under my thumb. Shit, something about that liminal phase, that moment the clock ticked over…
The others all blended, but the first and last. Yes. My favorites. I made myself sick with it, but the memories were irresistible.
My belly squeezed with need as my fingers grazed over my navel and lower, towards my pussy. I’d fuckedhim with that bat until he bled, until shit and red coated both the varnished wood of the bat and the floor beneath us. And I told him what it was doing to me. And why he was underneath me, tied down after I’d drugged him. It was a miracle I didn’t vomit and spill my DNA all over him.
But he would rape no one else again. He would never breathe again.
