Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I flung my bag over my shoulder, then pulled my suitcase out of the trunk of my car before slamming it shut. The wind from the water at my back picked up, whipping my hair across my face. I looked around at the hotel along the shore, pale blue fading to gray where the paint was chipping along the edges of the wood.
It was only a temporary stay until either I found a room to rent somewhere else in the little town of Bayville or until Emery stopped talking to me. Whichever came first. The hotel looked out toward Lake Huron and the bay. To my left, I could see the city of Alpena just north. To the south, I could see the nature reserve and the marsh. From across the water, a mile or two off, I could see the bridge leading to St. Agnes. From there, I could barely make out the large complex among the trees.
I had just enough time to clean up, get dressed, and eat a quick meal before I was to head over. Just after sunset. Dr. Langley said we could discuss better session times in the future so I didn’t have to venture the narrow roads at night.
It had only taken me a couple days to pack and to prepare for my stay. My school was a few hours away so there was no way I was going to be able to drive that distance several times a week. Jamie—being the sweetheart he was—took in Sammy until I returned, even though his partner, Ben, grumbled about cat-hair.
“I’m betting right now your thesis will be the most read and talked about in the community this year,” Mrs. Conley had told me when I had contacted her about the arrangement. “You get anything out of this guy, and I see a publishing deal coming next year. But we’ll discuss that at a later date. Good luck there, Eve.”
She’d exempted me from future classes, sending any further assignments online. With school taken care of and my stay charged through the week, I was ready to go.
Busy with preparing for tonight, I didn’t let Emery penetrate my thoughts. I got my key from the bored looking desk clerk and quickly made myself at home in my small but comfy looking room that overlooked the water—and the island. I started hanging my clothes in the narrow closet beside a picture of a lighthouse that looked similar to the one on St. Agnes, with a storm brewing in the background.
I took my time showering and pinning up my hair, then threw on some casual clothes before heading to the cafe for a quick dinner.
It was when I returned to my room after and started to change into a red blouse and pair of gray slacks that I finally let Emery back into my head. Just thinking of him made my heart race. The way his sunset eyes peered at me from the red skull mask. The image was eerie enough to make me shiver. It was like something else was there behind the mask, not a man, but something unnatural. Something dark and wrong .
I couldn’t imagine what might have caused such a sinister demeanor like that. What horrifying secrets were in his past, what wicked thoughts swirled around in that deep, dark well that was his mind.
But I was willing to find out.
I grabbed my bag and made for the door. The sun was nearly below the horizon as I slid into the driver seat of my Honda and started my drive out toward the marsh and to the bridge leading to the island.
Getting past the checkpoint on the bridge was quicker this time since they remembered me. I weaved through the narrow road across the island with the forest dark on either side of me until I saw the facility and the clock looming ahead. I parked in the same spot as before. Anxiously, I walked toward the door.
“Well, look who's back,” John said, barely greeting me with a smile. He shook his head as if feeling sorry for me. “Couldn’t get enough, huh?”
I waited once more in Dr. Langley’s office as they pulled Emery from his room. This time I was alone, as Langley was away at a meeting. I listened to the sounds of the inmates clanging against their doors or a dull moaning in the distance as I stared at the pictures along the wall and the dusty bookshelves, wondering if I’d have an office like this, in a place like this, in a few years…
“He’s all set,” John notified from the doorway.
I followed him to room 5b, trying to calm my nerves, trying to shake the feeling of terrified anticipation and gut-wrenching uneasiness from being face-to-face with that red-skulled devil.
Through the shadows and dim yellow lights, I saw Emery sitting in the same position as last time, his back turned from the door, his hands chained to the chair.
Slowly, he turned his head, like he did when he thought someone was beside him, and peered over at me. My heart flipped a little as his gaze caught mine.
We stared at each other for a mere two seconds, but it felt like forever.
“Hello again, Emery,” I said, at last.
His eyes narrowed, flitting down my form, taking in my blouse and slacks. “Eve…” he said in a hushed tone before turning away.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to my seat opposite him, aware of his eyes following me. I tried to give him a polite smile but could only manage a smirk. “It’s a little cold in here, isn’t it? I should have brought a sweater.”
Emery eyed me with curious, yet calm, indifference. “Sit here instead, and I’ll warm you right up.” He parted his thighs to indicate where he wanted me to sit exactly. As creepy as that was, the way he said it was so casual it almost sounded innocent as if he hardly meant anything inappropriate by it. Then I heard the tone of amusement and sarcasm and knew he was likely joking. If I even so much as got a foot next to him, he’d have me pinned to him in a second. His hands might be chained, but he had the ability to find other creative ways to hurt me.
“I’ll pass,” I said as politely as possible, reaching into my bag to take out my recorder.
“No,” he said in a low, more serious voice. “If we do this, I don’t want to be recorded.”
I stilled, looking at him. I wanted to argue, but knew I could lose any chance to talk with him otherwise. “Alright,” I say, straightening. “But can I at least take notes?”
He tilted his head to the side in that odd way as if someone was whispering in his ear. “Fine,” he said after a moment.
I took out my pen and pad and scribbled in the corner before writing Emery SESSION TWO at the top. “So, Emery, how have you been?”
The chains slid across his seat as he moved his feet back. “Better.”
I glanced at him and raised my brows. “That’s good. Care to elaborate?”
He tilted his head, mulling it over. “I’ve found a new interest. It’s kept my mind occupied for longer than most.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
His hands clenched and unclenched. “A story.”
I watched him, confused. “Is this a new book you’re reading?”
“No, it’s one I’ve thought up in my head.”
“Ah.” I made a note of that. “So, you want to write a story?”
His quiet laughter caught me off guard. “No, I prefer to keep this one in my head. I don’t want to share it.”
I shrugged. “That’s totally fine.”
“But it’s been turning in my mind since you left. Gotten more complex. It’s vivid. Truthfully, it started as a dream. I don’t usually recount my dreams; they aren’t usually nice.”
“You have a lot of nightmares?”
His eyes locked with mine. “Yes. Every night. Most times, I don’t remember. I just wake up yelling or screaming. It’s annoying.”
“Are they about anything in particular? Recurring?”
“Yes. They are always the same. But it doesn’t matter. This dream was different, it was…beautiful. Like nothing I ever felt.”
“What did you feel?”
He bowed his head, looking at his lap. “I can only describe it as warmth. Like being hugged as a child by someone who cares about you. The darkness is gone and there is only comfort. No more fear or pain. Like heaven. I didn’t want the dream to end so I held on to it when I woke. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”
I wanted him to continue. “Did anything change in your day that you think might have brought this dream on?”
His gaze was piercing, and for some reason, I started to feel flushed. “Something…” he said distantly. Unable to hold his gaze, I wrote down what he said. He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it was just the kittens they brought in last week. Cute little fuckers…”
“Well, I hope the dream returns in your sleep,” I said, actually meaning it. “Maybe it’s a sign of the better to come. That whatever brought on your nightmares is passing.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I lived with them for so long, it’s hard to know what’s reality. Even with the dream.”
I straightened in my seat, trying not to look too eager as I asked, “What made the nightmares real?” His eyes told me he already knew how curious I was so I continued with, “Anything you tell me, Emery, will stay in this room.”
He glanced at my hand with the pen pressed into the paper, then his cold eyes turned to me. “Until it's noted down to be examined later,” he whispered, “and rewritten into some baseless article on the deranged and twisted mind of a madman, right?”
I lifted my pen and shut the notepad, dropping it into my bag. “I promise.”
For a moment, he looked uncertain. He shifted in his seat, gripping the fabric of his pants, as if recounting the memories pained him.
“There’s so much…”
“You don’t have to tell me everything,” I said gently.
“It was always so dark,” he started slowly, looking at his feet. “I begged not to be put in the room. I couldn’t fight, I was too young, not strong enough yet. So I was dragged inside. The woman in the room never stopped smiling and staring at me. Her face was broken...like a doll’s. Her body was bent and also broken. Sometimes, she climbed the walls. Up the wall so I couldn’t get close, get close to the one crying on the other side…even though I needed to. I needed to…be with her.”
I leaned forward but didn’t dare interrupt. I could see his body tensing, the chains tightening.
“Then the man with clear eyes came and dragged me away,” he continued in a seething voice. “I accidentally called him father as I begged him not to separate me from her. And he beat me for it.” Emery’s breath was growing ragged. “Then he stuck his needle in me and watched me cry.”
His rage was like nothing I’d ever seen or felt. It was almost an entity all its own, a demon possessing him. A biting cold seeped into my bones. His eyes no longer saw me; they were dark, stormy.
“Emery…” I said softly. Now, I was scared of him again. I felt certain he would rip his chains right off and grab me, twisting me until every bone in my body broke.
He hissed, and for a crazed moment, I wanted to go and calm him down. “When crying didn’t help, I imagined how good it would feel to take one of his little knives and stick it in him a few times,” he growled. “Split up his face just like the woman’s. Make him smile for fucking once .” His voice grew hoarse, inhuman in its fury.
“Emery, look at me.”
He blinked once, then twice and the darkness started to clear. He must have seen my expression because he let the chains drop, calming himself. “Sorry. Scared you a little, did I? I’m pretty good at that.” He looked at me and he actually seemed to appear sorry for it. He also looked around him like he was scared himself, as if he was really back in whatever nightmare he described.
“It’s okay. Hey, you're not alone. You're not there anymore.”
“Switched one box for another,” he said, laughing, as if hardly hearing me. “Yes, I am alone.”
I was shocked when I suddenly felt some small feeling for him. Something like pity. I knew he had to have had a bad childhood. Though not all killers do, most had a traumatizing past. Some abuse or neglect in their childhood. Though Emery’s sounded truly awful and, in the greatest term, unique. A father doing that to their kid? Drugging him? It was heinous, awful. But…I still had to let that go. No matter what happened to him, he still did an awful thing in return. Something to me personally. And I couldn’t let that go. So, though I acknowledged my pity, I still reminded myself of who he was. Of the monster that had been created.
He turned his head as that invisible person whispered in his ear. “That was rude, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t recount to you how slicing and dicing people up was somehow therapeutic.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to answer with, “You need someone to talk to and I’m here. I chose to listen. I told you nothing would leave this room. You don’t have to keep anything from me.”
He studied me. “You really mean that, don’t you? I can tell. But what is it to you?” Before I could answer, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t think I’m stupid. I know you’re a student. You’ve come to examine me for your little project. That’s always what I’ve been—a project. A failed experiment. Trust me, I’m used to being nothing but an object to be bent and melded into whatever someone wanted.” His head tilted, and that cold anger was seeping through again. “So what is it that you want to turn me into?”
I had no real answer for that. But I could still give him some crumb of honesty. “I just want to understand.”
“Understand? What? Why I did what I did?”
I nodded, unable to verbally admit it.
He glared. “Many reasons. All good in my mind. But to understand, you’d have to know everything. And I don’t think you're ready for that, Evee. If you want to know, then you have to relive it all with me. And I’m not ready to do that either.”
It was a fair answer. He didn’t have to tell me, and I couldn’t force him to. I smiled, trying to appear unfazed and hide my disappointment. “That’s okay.” My eyes flitted over to the doorway, and I saw John and the others close by, looking in to check on me.
“Time’s up already, huh?”
I glanced at him just in time to catch a dark shadow passing over his gaze. “For tonight,” I replied. “But I’ll be sure next session, we have more time together.”
“You swear?”
I stilled as I went to pick up my bag, my gaze locking with his. Was he really enjoying these talks or was he just playing me?
I grabbed my bag and stood. “Yes. If it’s really what you want.”
He mumbled something, but I didn’t catch it.
“Sorry, what?”
“I want it,” he said.
“Good.” I started to walk past him, then stopped. I turned, making sure I was at a clear enough distance where he couldn’t get to me, then I took out my notebook and set it down by him. He looked over at it curiously.
“Since I’m no longer recording and won’t be writing down anything to be noted in some article. You can borrow my notebook to write in for your journal.”
He looked at me as if I had two heads. “Excuse me, what?”
My smile widened. “Oh, you think it’s going to be that easy? No. If you want to keep talking, I want that journal filled. And, no, I won’t be looking at it, it's for you to keep your thoughts in.”
He grumbled, looking away. “You're gonna make me journal?”
“Think of it as an outlet. See you next time.” I grinned and swept past the men.
Emery cursed behind me as the guards swarmed him.
At the hotel, I whipped out my laptop and started typing away. I plugged in a few more notes and thought-points, mostly about Emery’s reactions. I didn’t go into detail about the personal stuff he told me as per my promise.
I don’t know why I cared to keep such a promise, I had no obligation to, and if I was feeling spiteful or bitter, it seemed only natural I would disregard it entirely.
But no matter what Emery was in my past, what feelings I had, I was his therapist now and if I didn’t care about confidentiality in the slightest, then I’d be a poor psychologist who couldn’t keep her emotions in check and couldn’t keep the trust of her patients.
Sure, this situation was a little different, but if I slipped and started focusing on my bitterness, I wouldn’t be able to see this as something professional any longer. The resentment I felt had been there for many years. I could put it aside and focus on getting what I wanted. And that was information.
And when I had sucked Emery dry of everything he spilled to me from his heart, I would crush it with my own knowledge that I would give back to him.
Knowing that kept me not exactly sane but determined to see this through. And in the end, maybe my bitterness would win after all, and I would spill his secrets to the world.
But for now, I was playing the role I was given. I was going to let him in, let him talk, let him think I cared. Then gut him with the truth. The truth of who I was and what he had done. And then he could feel my bitterness too.
I finished writing out the rest of my less-honest-and-more-academic thoughts and saved my work.
Most of what he said was cryptic, his nightmare childhood especially. But there were a few points that caught my attention. He had mentioned someone he needed to be with. To not be separated from her . I could only assume he meant his sister. The one who had passed away. Though from the information I had gathered, they had been separated in the foster care system. And there was no mention of a father, unless it was a parent he was adopted by. There were two families he had gone to. One had been a lesbian couple while the other had been a man who owned a party store with his wife. The man had been caught dealing drugs and neglecting him which was why Emery was taken from them and given back over to foster care before disappearing. The man must have abused him and possibly another.
Which was absolutely awful. But it didn’t explain why he decided to go on a murderous rampage against my family specifically.
Something still didn’t add up. And a gut-twisting dread started to eat at me.
It had always pained me that I was never able to find more on Emery. On his childhood or what happened between his disappearance and the night of the murders. The police claimed not to have any information. That he might as well have died when he disappeared and became a ghost. A specter.
I didn’t believe in ghosts. So my logical brain told me some things were covered up.
But why?
I shut off my laptop and decided to consider it tomorrow. I needed sleep.
I went over to the window to shut the curtain and paused to look at the water, over to the island. I could see the light of the clock, after all. An eerie eye watching in the dark.