Serial Killer Therapy Group: Meeting One

*T/W, Mentions of Killing and Mental Health*

“She sat by him, and they gazed into the sunset. He held a can of something he wouldn’t drink, and she placed a cigarette she would never light in her mouth. The radio blasted music, the oceans waves slamming down rhythmically, and everything was perfect.

The world seemed to pause for a moment, to take in the wonderful second.

A memory never replaced or forgotten.

Something book worthy.

Love.

Taking his hand, they left behind the props and danced in the sand, the rays highlighting them as the waves skimmed their feet. The world moving in a union of two joined into one, their laughter echoing across the empty beach. Sand Pipers hopped around them, pecking in the sand and chirruping merrily at success. She would scoop up a small shell, and show it to him, he would hug her tight and clasp her hand in his. The shell would be their daughter's inheritance. For what is more important than love?

They splashed in the surf, and she collected shells, as he guarded her from the waves. When she finished, he carried her back, setting her into her shoes- his love big enough for three.

She would hum a tune, and he would pick it up, the oceans incessant thrum giving it a life he would murmur how he loved her as the sun slipped into the horizon, and she would pull him closer as a cool wind of the night wrapped around her bare shoulders.

He would peck her forehead then take her face in his hands and kiss her lips, taking her love for his own.

they would spend hours whispering on that lonely beach, he would cradle her when she slipped into a slumber and rest her head lightly on the sand as he fell into his own sleep.

When they awoke, they would speak of their dreams; of their daughter as he stoked her stomach lightly, planting a kiss for his unborn daughter inside.

No one would disturb them until the afternoon. Only a lone patrol officer watching for trespassers on the long swathes of sand.

They wouldn’t cause a fuss, leaving without word- but sharing a small smile between them as they returned to walk home.

Their daughter would be born in love, and that’s my This I Care About.” I finished.

The support group was quiet, I could see a few tears in the other girls' eyes. They too understood the want of love. An unrequited lust for peace. I too understood their loss. Just as they understood mine.

Dr. De’ Anne didn’t speak to me. She only nodded. She didn’t understand like the others. She had a fiancé. A kid. Suddenly- I felt like I belonged. A truly unnatural thought for me, belonging in a group of murders. I have to learn to accept, I thought wearily.

I rubbed my abdomen unconsciously. I would have loved her.

Luke speaks up then, his hand raised hesitantly. “When I killed my ex, she had a baby…”

He goes silent, his thoughts drawing him away. Dr. De’ Anne encourages him.

“-I, I don’t know where my little boy is anymore. They took him, before I went on trial… her parents- they took him.” he stopped, a sob racking his body. He stood and walked away, glancing back at me, a look of compassion being shared between us. Hazel walked after him.

The door shut behind them, and Dr. De’ Anne only smiled grimly.

“Anyone else want to speak on this topic?” she said stiffly. I know she would rather be home, or not in a room full of killers. There was a reason two security details were scheduled for these meets. Only one was supposed to be needed, but the wimp had somehow got the warden to allow another guard set for her meets. I think she knows that we can see through her prim facade. This is just a job for her, I think to myself as she glances around at the stony faces.

Another hand raises, and its someone I don’t know. I’ve seen the girl from across tables at lunch, but she kept to herself, only talking when required at the meetings.

“My name is Hadleigh. I have… problems you could say.” she said meekly, a faint smile dusting her pink lips.

“I loved your story Esme, I… I used to love like that.” she laughed lightly, “I guess since we’re all killers here, I can tell you my little story.” she took a breath and gazed at me, her eyes bright despite the tale she spoke of.

“My dad married me to Pax when I was 15. I grew up in a Mormon community and it was not unusual for this to happen, so I didn’t rebel the idea much. I did not realize, he would marry others also. I grew jealous, and despite many visits to our priests I was angry, and in a fit of rage, I began thinking of ways to kill my husband. It was a dangerous, hateful and evil thing to do in gods sight, but I thought the evil things anyways. I practiced on other people, blaming their deaths on wild animals creeping from their wild homes during the night.” she shook her head a devious grin spreading, Dr. De’ Anne shifted, obviously uncomfortable with Hadleigh’s story.

“Feeling I was capable, I snuck upon my Pax when he was with another girl, and slit his throat, letting the girl with him watch, bound and terrified in a corner.” she laughed manically. I find myself grinning in enjoyment. I shake it away feeling disgusted with my joy at such a nasty tale. But when I see covered smiles on the others faces, and Luke holding Hazel who grinned with him listening at the doorway, I let myself smile. Dr. De’ Anne backs away from where she stood. Rapping a hand on the wall summoning a set of armed guards.

Hadleigh kept on, her words interrupted by laughter.

“I remember- The look of fear in her- her eyes!” she snickered casting a sly smile at me, her eyes glittering with humor.

“I remember when the girl screamed, the men bursting in the home- The home Pax built- FOR ME!” she burst into a fit of laughter, her voice edging on an uncontrolled maniac complex.

I catch her eye, willing her to stay calm- to not have to be taken away by the still soldiers who watched with flicking eyes. She cocks her head and gives me a faint nod.

“The girl was dead before they could stop me, but that was it-the Manonhill Murderer caught! Big ole headline, I was ecstatic. My dad tried to tame me, but they ended up sending me here.” She shrugged, leaning back in her chair, the legs squeaking on the floor.

“So here I am, you still wanna be in the same room with me?”

I stood walking over, trying to strut calmly and determined like I saw other patients- prisoners is what we were, patients was just a kinder word for us mentally insane killers.

I held out a hand, and she took it standing up. I was only an inch or so shorter than her. “I would consider it an honor.” I said between humor and firmness. She grinned, and we fell into a bout of laughter.

“Esme, I’m gonna take you up on that offer. We gonna be good friends you and me. You got a name so I can remember you?” she asked.

I smiled knowing what she meant. “Baby-Blood Brute.” I say smiling at the silliness of the name the press had assigned me upon the release of my story.

Hadleigh laughed, “That’s a good name I’ll remember you for sure.” I tilted my head. “No remembering needed Manonhill Murderer, I’mma be here a good long time for my killings.” I raised a brow.

“This I Care About.” I said pointing at her, using the saying Dr. De' Anne had made us to use when we found something we cared about in our bloody, brutal minds. Hadleigh's strong- confident smile faltered.

“I care about you too Blood Brute.” I nodded not trying to push a friendship here any further.

“Happy killings?” I offered using the common saying I had heard others using. She smiled waving her goodbye and saying one last thing as she moved to the door, ignoring the gawking stares of the others.

“Happy Killings.”