[ WP ] Make me side with a serial killer from the perspective of one of his victims .

“ Death is a release, he said, it ’ s a way out. Take it; no, embrace it. ” 
 
 Who gave this psycho the right? Seriously, who gave him the fucking right to decide when my time is up. To be tied down in this smelly, steamy basement, butt-naked with my clothes right on top of the old, smelly clothes from his previous victims. I don ’ t deserve to go this way, not in this dark, dimly-lit room, not in the hands of a serial killer. I deserve better than this, despite my mistake. 
 
 “ DUI is never a mistake ” the psycho said as if reading my mind. 
 
 “ You do something irresponsible, and it ’ s no big deal, everyone does irresponsible shit all the time. This shouldn ’ t ruin your life. After all, the kid, the 11 year old girl on her pink little bike is already de -- ” 
 
 “ She was fourteen, ” I interrupted 
 “ Shut up, ” he yelled. “ Shut the fuck up. ” 
 
 He fell butt-first on the ground and began to cry. Hands over his face, broad shoulders slumped, he wailed louder than I ’ ve ever heard a man cry. I tried to cover my ears but my hands were tied behind me. I squirmed uncomfortably in my in the chair. This wailing was torture. More painful than anything he ’ d done to me, more painful than the certainty in my mind that this was going to be my last day on earth. 
 
 “ Stop, ” I yelled. 
 
 He continues wailing, loudly. 
 
 So I screamed louder than he can wail. 
 
 “ Nooooooooo ” 
 
 It took a couple of minutes, but I won, He stopped. 
 
 “ You try, ” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. 
 
 `` You try to make it right. You volunteer at a bunch of charities, but you can ’ t sleep at night without seeing her pink pony, the little plastic pony that was strapped to the front of her bike, with the name ‘ Sam ’ written on it in gold and white. Funny how that flimsy plastic toy barely had a scratch on it but Samantha died in seconds.'' 
 
 “ Listen, dude, ” I said. 
 
 “ Whatever this trip down memory lane means to you, I ’ m not interest -- ” 
 
 “ Shut up, ” he yelled. 
 
 He cleared his throat, then looked deep into my eyes in his signature creepy way. 
 
 “ Have you tried to make things right with the family? I did. I sold everything I had, my stocks and bonds, my house. I liquidated my retirement account, cashed out my future and sent it as a check to Samantha ’ s family, but they rejected it. I saw it on TV; it was all over the news. They tore up my check and my letter of apology; it was like they were tearing up my heart. So I did what they wanted, I turned myself in. Pled guilty to everything the DA threw at me. I refused to hire an attorney because the over 2 million dollars I was worth was better spent starting a scholarship fun in Samantha ’ s honor. I did everything my conscience demanded, even said thanks to the judge when he sentenced me to 25 years in jail. ” 
 
 The psycho took a sip of water, and I hoped that he ’ d choke on it. I prayed that the psychopath would choke on that glass and die right in front on me, but he didn ’ t. He continued talking. 
 
 “ But you see, I was beginning to see peace again, to actually sleep dream-free through the night, no ponies, when our god-forsaken-mother-of-all-incompetent correction department decided to let me off, AFTER NINE FUCKING YEARS AND NINETEEN DAYS, ” he raged loudly. 
 
 “ NINE YEARS, ” he yelled again, smashing his glass on the floor. `` THAT ’ S HOW MUCH TIME YOU GET FOR DEALING WEED. ” 
 
 “ Just like that, ” he continues. “ They took everything from me. They cited ‘ good behavior ’ but it was really congestion. Some class-action lawsuit. And bam, ” he said, snapping his finger. 
 
 “ Just like that, I ’ m back to square one. It ’ s back to the fucking pony, ” he chuckled “ on my very first night out. ” He heaved a heavy sigh. 
 
 He walked over to the little black drawer right by the old window which is now underground. He took out a vial and a syringe, and drew out a tall dosage. 
 This is what he ’ d use to kill me, I knew. I just wanted him to inject me right way and get it over with; but no. he wasn ’ t done with his pathetic story. He sits down on the dirty floor and continued talking 
 
 “ Samantha ’ s family sent me a letter as soon as I got out, saying they forgave me. My parish pastor came over to my house with half the church and spent hours trying to convince me that god had forgiven me. I believed him, but forgiveness in one thing, redemption is another. The family may have forgiven me. God, even Samantha herself may have forgiven me but the Pony hasn ’ t. My conscience has not forgiven me. I still get the nightmares, every time I close my eyes. I ’ ve been forgiven by everyone, but don ’ t have redemption handed to you by kind people, you work for it. You earn it, you suffer for it. So here I am. ” 
 
 He set the syringe on the floor and looked deep into my eyes. I blinked, a single teardrop came out. 
 
 I had a question I couldn ’ t help but ask him so I did. I said “ So killing is your idea of redemption? ” 
 
 “ No, ” he replied. 
 
 “ Redemption is my idea of redemption. I look for people who ’ d taken the lives of others. I have a specialty... ” 
 
 “ DUIs, ” I interrupted. 
 
 “ Yes, ” he replied. “ Whether they ’ re convicted, or, like you, released for insufficient evidence. I offer redemption to those people. ” 
 
 He picked up the syringe, held it up to the lamp up above and gave it a tap, then another. 
 
 “ Wait, ” I said as he motioned the poison toward me. 
 
 “ If the court thinks that I didn ’ t do it, what makes you so sure that I did? ” 
 
 He stopped right in his tracks. 
 
 “ You were acquitted thirteen days ago. Between then and this morning, you ’ ve called the suicide hotline forty-six times. You quit your job, left your family and became a rather accomplished alcoholic judging by your tab at the local liquor store. I knew I had to act today because the 9mm you ordered off the internet arrived… ” 
 
 He checked his phone 
 
 “ Three hours ago. I can ’ t let you kill yourself. All these people, ” he said gesturing at the pile of clothes at the corner, 
 
 “ they all tried to kill themselves, but I couldn ’ t let them. I can ’ t let you because it ’ s not redemption. You can ’ t truly redeem yourself by taking the easy way out. Believe me; if I could just push this syringe into my chest right now and be free, I ’ d be fucking ecstatic. ” 
 
 He held me by the arm and removed the lid from the syringe. I saw one little drop of the poison escape from the tip of the thin metal, the sight sending a shiver through my body. 
 
 “ Richard, ” he said. 
 
 “ yeah, ” I replied. 
 
 “ Was it you? ” he asked. “ The DUI, did you kill Trina Larssen? ” 
 
 This was my way out. If I said yes, he ’ d let me go, I could see it in his deep green eyes. This was my chance to walk away from this smelly dungeon, back to my life. Back to Buddy, my best friend, who was undoubtedly at that moment, sitting by the mailbox on my front porch, wiggling his tail, waiting for my car to pull into the driveway, for me to come home. 
 
 One single word and I ’ m a free man. Free to go home to my life, to my dream… 
 
 “ Yes, ” I said. 
 
 “ I Killed Trina Larssen, I ’ m sorry. ” 
 
 “ I know, ” said Alex, that ’ s his name. 
 
 “ I understand. ” Alex said as he eased the syringe into my arms. 
 
 As the cold fluid burned through my veins, I heard his voice. 
 
 “ Goodnight, Richard ” 
 
 “ Goodnight, Alex, ” I replied as I drifted off to sleep. 
 

