When you set your mind to it, you can do just about anything you want. I discovered this a long time ago, when I was a teenager and realized I could have any girl if I just overpowered her a little bit. Oh, they struggled and fought me off as best they could, but they were always weak. I’d hold down their arms, press myself on top of them, and eventually they’d give up.

Then they’d give it up. They always did that.

As I got older, my tastes changed. Some of the girls gave in too damn easily, and that took all the challenge out of it. Then there was my good-for-nothing wife—why I married her I don’t know. More for the fact that she was pregnant with my child than anything else, and I was trying to do the right thing, I guess.

That bitch didn’t want to do dick. The moment she had my son, my namesake, a boy I wanted to be proud of, she lost interest in the both of us. Was always yelling at me, nagging at me about meaningless shit. I was glad when she left. Willy was sad, but he got over it. As long as a boy has his father, he’ll be fine.

I’m a firm believer in that.

The games with women weren’t too much fun after a while. They always gave in. I could buy them off with drugs, which always turned them into limp rag dolls, and I got off on that for a while. Fucking a woman while she’s semiconscious was a turn-on. But soon I grew weary of that, too.

That’s when they got younger. The ones that put up a fight got the shit beat out of them. The ones who lay there and just took it, too terrified to fight back?

They were my absolute favorites.

Maybe that’s what my Will likes about Katherine Watts. The girl just lay there and took it. Is he like his old man after all?

I’ll never know. He won’t talk to me.

Well, he’ll talk to me now, won’t he? I chose this weekend on purpose. Holiday weekends are always understaffed here. They’re all distracted anyway, with thoughts of family and bullshit and the upcoming Christmas season and how much pressure it is, to spend all that money only for those ungrateful shits they call children to hate their presents and bitch the entire time they’re on winter break.

Children. They’re a great blessing. Yet they also fucking suck.

I know for a fact Lisa Swanson is in San Francisco for the weekend, being a good little girl and spending the holiday with her family. I even did a little searching and discovered where her parents’ house is. Google Earth is the greatest invention ever made. Coincidentally enough, they live in Marin—not too far from where I am.

The reunion is in place. Won’t she be surprised? I think so.

I sit on the edge of my bed, waiting for the guard to make his hourly pass. I can hear his footsteps as he approaches and I stand, walking to the bars so I can cling to them and look extra pitiful. I know I’m pale. I feel real hot, too. I have some tricks. I know what I’m doing.

He stops when he sees me, a wary expression on his face. “What’s your problem, Monroe?”

“I’m real uh . . .” I draw in a ragged breath, let it out shakily, and it sounds like I have a damn death rattle in my chest. All those years smoking produced that. A few bouts with pneumonia helped it along. “I’m not feeling so good.”

He squints at me, looking skeptical. “You fucking with me, Monroe? This is, like, the worst time for you to feel like shit. No one’s manning the infirmary tonight.”

I nod, rubbing my chest nice and slow. “My chest aches. And I swear to fucking God my arm is all tingly and weird feeling.” I shake it out for good measure, and I’m pleased with how weak and wobbly it appears.

He steps closer, his hand on his belt, close to whatever weapon he thinks he needs to draw, the asshole. I’m a sick man, weak and feeble. The more I believe it, the more believable it’ll be. “You want some aspirin?”

I laugh, the sound raspy, and I turn it into a horrific cough. This is real. I bet my lungs are as black as can be. Not that I care. I’m all in now. It’s do-or-die time. “I don’t know if that’s really gonna help. I think I’m beyond aspirin.” I cough again, covering my mouth a little late. The guard dodges out of my way so he won’t get my germs, a grimace on his face.

Pussy.

“Listen, I’m serious. If you’re in a bad way, I need to know now. We’ll have to call an outside service or drive you to the local emergency room.” He’s starting to sweat at that idea—I see the little beads of perspiration form at his hairline. Poor fucker. I’m really gonna blow his mind here in a bit. “The doc is off the entire weekend.”

I almost want to shout I know, asshole, but I keep my lips clamped shut.

And proceed to collapse on the floor, my hand still clutching at my chest. The guard starts to shout and I can barely contain the smile on my face. So easy.

Too easy.