Thick… dense… bitter…
She could cut the air with a knife. Clearing her throat, Mimi tried to dislodge the mass of sickly-sweet, acrid, malignant malice clogging her airway. Pushed as far into the corner as she could possibly get, sure the design of the blocks was embedded in the skin on her back, Mimi let her head fall forward, tucked her nose and mouth under the collar of her silk blouse, and inhaled.
At least I can stand my own stench…
Keeping her head down while hoping to avoid eye contact with the prisoners holding them hostage, she prayed, “Dear God, I know we haven’t always been the closest…and I know that you know that I blame you for taking my mom long before I thought it was time, but if there’s any way out of this mess, I’d sure appreciate your help.”
She thought about all the men who’d made Death Row promises as she counseled them through their final days. Platitudes they had no intention of keeping but giving all who saw them a hell of a good show. Getting on their knees, clasping their hands and closing their eyes, tears cascading down their cheeks as they begged whatever deity they believed in to save them from the hell of their own making.
Can’t do it…Can’t start lying now… Besides, Mom used to say my tongue would fall off if I lied. Not cool. Not cool, at all…
Knowing in her heart-of-hearts that she wasn’t going to lie to anyone, let alone God on high, even to save her own ass, Mimi slid her eyes to the side, glancing at her coworkers. Four guards and one nurse, all men and all at the mercy of the psychotic sadist, Ted Dubronski and his crew of bat-shit crazy cohorts, just as she was.
Yes, bat-shit crazy is a professional term, and I will now be using it in my case notes…
Turning on the professional side of her brain, because looking at her situation as a clinical study was way easier than the grim reality before her, Mimi first examined the leader of the mutiny, the bane of her existence, Theodore Gregory Dubronski. He thrived in chaos. Yearned to control every element of his surroundings and hungered for the pain of others.
Perfectly comfortable with his surroundings in this, their fourth day of the standoff, the homicidal maniac was laid back in the large, obscenely extravagant leather desk chair that any other time would have been in the warden’s office. With his feet on the desk, crossed at the ankles and a cigarette hanging from his thin, colorless lips, the serial killer let his head fall back and sighed. “Well, the cops aren’t taking me seriously. I think it’s time to start sending out some body parts.”
“Can I help?” Henry Moiser, a twenty-four-year old serial killer who’d committed his first murder when he was seven-years-old by pushing his babysitter down the stairs then stripping her naked and writing obscenities all over her body with his mother’s red lipstick, asked with an evil gleam in his mud-colored eyes.
“Yeah, why not?” Ted chuckled, leaning forward and stamping out the butt of his cigarette on the hard wood of the table where Mimi always ate her lunch. Looking up at the youngest of his literal partners in crime, Dubronski added, “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you lick up the blood.”
Remembering her sessions with Henry, Mimi forced herself not to cringe as his words replayed in her mind…
“I didn’t have my first taste of blood until my eleventh birthday. I had just been released from Hyde Park a few days earlier.” He looked up from the pad of paper he’d been drawing on and asked, “Ever been there?”
“No, I haven’t,” Mimi softly answered, waiting for him to continue.
“Well, it’s a nut house for young’uns like I was.” His usually slow southern drawl took on a more pronounced twang. “Ya’ see, I made those shrinks think I was cured after pushing old Mary Lou down the stairs.” He snickered, pushing the lead of the pencil deeper into the paper. “They gave me like six bottles of pills and told my ma to make sure I took ‘em every day.”
He continued to slash at the paper as he looked up and grinned just enough for Mimi to see his rotten two front teeth. “But you see, my momma was a whore and my dad was dead, so there weren’t nobody to look after me and let’s just say, I put those pills to good use and made me a few bucks.” He sat back, crossed his arms, and nodded with a satisfied smile. “That’s how I bought my first real huntin’ knife. Used it the very next day to carve up that stupid asshole, Jessie McFarlane. There was blood on my hands when I was done, so I licked it off.” He nodded. “And ya know what, Doc? It tasted like pork chops that hadn’t been in the skillet quite long enough.”
Pointing to the notes Mimi was making, he added, “You better write that name down and put that he’s buried underneath the propane tank in his old granny’s back yard.” His smile widened as he licked his lips and leaned forward. “Those fucking cops never asked, so I never told them about him. But, I like you, Doc. I like you a lot.”
That was the first day Mimi had questioned her choice of professions. Meeting Ted was the second and four days ago was the third, and most probably the final…if she made it out alive.
Pushing her chin even farther into her chest, Mimi bit her tongue, refusing to scream when Ted grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet. It was more shock than pain at first, as she hadn’t even heard him move.
Jerking her head back, forcing her to look him in the eye, Dubronski sneered, “Ladies first,” before dragging her into the tiny kitchenette just to the side of the breakroom as all the other prisoners yelled and screamed for him to stop.
Her scalp burned as she tripped, causing the death-grip the killer had on the thick mass of her hair he had wrapped around his hand to nearly pull it out by the root. Biting down harder on her tongue, absolutely denying Ted what he wanted most—her fear—she tasted the sweet, copper of her own blood flowing down her throat.
Throwing her handcuffed hands out in front of her, Mimi held her breath as she was shoved toward the Formica-covered island in the middle of the room with Dubronski ordering, “Get your ass up and lay down, Bitch.”
Scrambling to comply, wondering if she could overpower both Ted and Henry and save her coworkers, Mimi did as she was told while praying neither inmate was going to add sexual assault to their repertoire of offences. Laying his hand over her neck, Ted leaned down until the tips of their noses touched and whispered, “I know what you’re doing.” Applying just enough pressure that Mimi’s fight or flight reflexes started to flood her body with adrenaline, he added. “Others have tried. All have failed.”
Pushing the pad of his thumb against her carotid artery, the blunt tip of his nail digging into her flesh, he sneered, “You will give me your fear, Dr. Havers.”
The fingers on the other side of her neck tightened until she could only draw tiny bits of air into her lungs. He was driving her to hyperventilate, trying to make it impossible for her not to open her mouth, not to cry out, not to gasp for air, but still Mimi refused. She simply refused to give a homicidal maniac control over her body or her mind.
“I knew you’d be fun to play with.” Dubronski chuckled. “Until I met you, I thought all women were either sluts or bitches, but you, Doc, you’re in a class by yourself.” He patted her cheek with his free hand as he pushed his thumb ever so slightly deeper into her neck. “You’re strong. You’re gonna make me work for that first scream. The one that makes me hard, keeps me coming back for more.”
“Go on, Henry. Give her a little taste of your magic,” Ted taunted as he jerked Mimi to a sitting position with the hand that was wrapped around her throat.
The noose of his grip around her neck tightened.
The breath froze in her lungs.
The world around her flipped to slow motion.
Helpless to stop what she knew was about to happen. Watching the smoldering embers glowing at the tip of a rancid cigar creep slowly to the tender skin at the back of her knee, Mimi shook uncontrollably.
The pop and crackle of sizzling skin rang in her ears. The unmistakable scent of burning flesh assaulted her nose. Then it happened. Pain – sharp, unrelenting, excruciating agony beat at her every nerve-ending, forcing her to chomp down on her tongue until her she was sure she had severed it in two.
“Fuck you, Doc. Fuck you to hell,” Ted thundered before turning to Henry and snarling, “Hit her again.”
Over and over Henry shoved the burning cigar into her leg, then the underside of her wrist, finally heading for her cheek, right under her left eye.
Nearly wringing her neck like she was one of Aunt Belle’s chickens as he whipped her head from side-to-side, Dubronski shrieked, “Scream, you fuckin’ bitch. Scream or I’ll cut your fuckin’ throat.”
Turning her eyes away from Henry and glaring the best she could, Mimi croaked, “Fuck you.”
Tightening his grip and cutting off the last little bit of air she was getting, Dubronski slammed her down onto the counter, bashing the back of her head against the hard Formica again and again. Darkness closed in all around her. Unable to breathe, her skull being pummeled by a madman, Mimi relaxed, resigned to her inevitable fate.
Watching the warm, unwavering glow of the soft, white light in her soul, she floated on a peaceful sea of light blue fluffy clouds. Visions of her dream lover filled her mind.
He was talking to her…his lips moving so quickly, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Brow furrowed, his deep blue eyes dark and stormy like an angry sea, he reached for her but failed to make contact.
Reaching again, Banning lunged at her. His hands gripped her shoulders. Heat like a bolt of lightning shot through her body. Her eyes flew open. She gulped for the air her oxygen-deprived brain needed to function at the exact moment the voice she’d been imaging since the first time she saw his face in her dreams roared, “Wake up, Myanna! Open your eyes and wake up!”