Chapter 15 The Vigilante #2
Now that I knew who he was talking about, it took every ounce of willpower I had not to kill him on the spot.
She was safe; he couldn’t touch her while she was here.
Brandon was too well watched to get away with hurting another patient so intimately.
Just the thought of his hands on her had me seeing red.
“None of the patients here with you has anything to do with your outburst, Mr. Everett. We talked about accountability in our last session, do you remember?” I masked the edge in my tone easily enough. If he knew he could get under my skin, then he would gain the upper hand.
“They do when they eye fuck you all day and then pretend you don’t exist!” He shouted, though he remained seated. He knew his place in the pecking order, and I wasn’t one to be pushed around by fucking sickos that liked to abuse children.
“Is that what you told the police when they arrested you for your niece's murder?” I made a few notes in my notebook, ignoring the rage starting to simmer in his eyes as we approached the real reason he was in my office.
“I told them what she told me, that she loved me, I couldn’t let them take that away from me.”
“When did she tell you that she loved you?” It infuriated me that he was victim-blaming. I wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with him over it; I had to play the part.
“Years before anything finally happened. She said I was always her favorite uncle, bringing her candy and toys all the time. We even had sleepovers where she’d lie and say she had nightmares just so she could sleep in bed with me.”
“All of those could be considered innocent things for her age; what made you think they were anything more than her wanting to spend time with her uncle?”
He didn’t answer right away; —the pervert was probably lost in a memory of molesting his niece, or something just as disturbing.
“She never told me no.” He finally said. My knuckles were nearly white from gripping the pen too tightly.
“Did she consent to you? At seven years old, do you think she understood what that meant? To give you permission to do something to her body that the state of Virginia says you have to be a legal adult over the age of eighteen to give?”
“That was up to her parents to teach her, not me. But I’ll tell you this, when I’m able to put my fingers in a pussy that young and they’re not yelling at me that it hurts, they’re enjoying it.”
My stomach twisted as I tried to separate myself from his point of view and the way he saw an innocent child. I made more notes on the paper, but there was a game that needed to be played first. Brandon was doing nothing more than hammering the final nails in his coffin, the more we spoke.
“How old was she when you started touching her like that?”
“Claire was five the first time she let me play with her pussy, she even licked my fingers for me so they’d feel better going in.
” Holding onto the knowledge that he wasn’t going to make it long enough to see his trial in court was the only thing that kept me from plunging my pen into his eye.
A five-years-old was an innocent baby, not someone to be sexualized by a monster.
“Did her parents ever suspect the relationship the two of you had going on?” I used the term relationship because, to perverts like Brandon, that’s essentially what it was.
Their own perverse version of a true relationship.
He knew he was hurting her; he knew she wasn’t old enough to give any form of consent, but he convinced himself in his mind that it was consensual.
“No, they said she had been sick and had a few UTI’s, but they never took her to get checked out. Claire never told her parents about me or us.”
“Then what made you decide to kill her?”
The report had said he suffocated her, fibers from her Barbie pillow had been found in her airway. She died in her own bed at her home, where she was supposed to be safe from the monsters that lurked outside.
“She was getting older, she asked me on one of the nights she was having a sleepover at my house if it was normal the way I touched her, that none of her friends at school saw a dick in real life.”
“So even though she hadn’t told your brother or her mother, she was talking about it?”
“Claire couldn’t help but talk about us.
What we had was special. Her pussy was unlike any I’d ever had before.
If she had kept her mouth shut and not told her little friends at school, she’d still be here.
The little cunt brought it upon herself, and now look where it’s left me!
In a mess because she couldn’t think!” His temper rose quickly as he continued to blame his victim for his own actions.
“How did you teach her the lesson? How did you teach her to keep her mouth shut?” I hated phrasing questions as if I believed them, as if their way of life were normal, yet it was necessary to get information.
Correcting people like him wouldn’t amount to anything; their convictions in their beliefs were too strong.
“I let myself in one night with the key my brother had given me when they bought the house. I didn’t even need to wake her up to shut her up, the pillow over her face did that for me.”
“Is that how they caught you? With your key?”
Brandon laughed, heartless and insensitive, “No, her little bitch of a sister saw me. They shared a room. When I checked on her she was sleeping, but the little shit was faking.”
I hadn’t spoken with Claire's family after Brandon was brought to the facility. The board of directors would view it as a conflict of interest while I was his therapist. Though I was provided a copy of the autopsy report with his intake file. The coroner determined Claire Everett had been sexually assaulted over the course of several years, the recent addition including full penetration rape. There was little comfort in knowing that she hadn’t suffered much in the end, that she probably didn’t even wake up as he slowly suffocated her in front of her little sister.
“Did her little sister not spend the same amount of time at your house like Claire did?”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “No, even from a young age, Phoebe never liked me, wouldn’t give me a single hug any time I was around.” Smart kid, she probably saved her own life.
“What was the age difference between them?”
“Barely a year, Claire was just a year older than Phoebe. I would have had them both, but Phoebe would have told, she was a loud-mouthed little brat.”
“Have you ever considered being interested in women closer to your own age?” Most of the time, pedophiles have tried, but the problem was that women of legal age didn’t do it for them.
They either had a hard time getting it up or a hard time performing.
Role play worked for a lot of men who preferred younger women, dressing up in costumes and similar scenarios between consenting adults.
Others started seeking out what they liked without a care in the world about the consequences or who they hurt along the way.
“Older women are too stuck up for their own good. They run their mouths more than using them for what they need to. They’re also too loose; they don’t feel good.” I refrained from making a small dick comment. It really would have been too unprofessional of me.
“But you said Miss Devlin gets you going?”
“Have you seen her? She’s the size of a doll, only with big tits.
Dressed up just right, she could be eleven or twelve years old.
Tell me, doc. Your professional opinion, do you think she’s been fucked a lot?
” I felt my jaw twitch involuntarily at how he spoke of her.
Speaking of anyone like they were an object and less than human was bad enough, but to speak of someone I had made a promise to protect?
He was walking a fine line with his final days.
“I don’t view my patients as sexual objects; I’m here to help better their minds so they can grow independent in making better choices for themselves.”
“You’re right, her tits are too big, they’d have to be taped down for it to work.
She just can’t help but look at me, doc!
She’s begging me to fuck her when she’s constantly looking at me!
” Raelynn hadn’t spoken of Brandon much in our sessions together so far.
Not enough to think he was making her feel as uncomfortable as her ex was trying to do, but he was speaking about her enough for me to want to look into how their interactions had been so far.
Brandon showed he had the ability to think his actions through; he either lacked impulse control or didn’t care to even try to exercise it.
While he was conscious enough to choose his victims wisely by choosing the niece less likely to tell her parents about him, he devolved when it came to getting rid of her once she did say something.
He impulsively went to their house that night to kill Claire, no gloves, no damage control on any evidence he left at the crime scene, nothing.
I’d have to make sure to send a note to the nurses to continue supervision with him, especially when female patients were around.
A knock on the door signaled the end of our session.
Thomas had returned from his break, and not a moment too soon.
My regular clients—the ones I loved helping—I could listen to their problems all day and not feel an ounce of stress.
Psychopaths and pedophiles, I felt like I needed to take a Brillo pad with bleach to scrub myself clean from interacting so intimately with their sins.
No insanity plea was going to help save him from my verdict.