The Murder of Vincent Berry

Part I: Miley 

“Could you tell me what happened?” She peers at me thoughtfully. The bespectacled female on the other side of the table.

I look at her smugly while I place my feet up on the chair in front of me. I’m wearing my favorite black, leather boots and skirt. I take a pen from the plastic container on the table and twirl it around my fingers. I throw my head back, lick my large, candy cane lollipop, and answer, “I’m a fighter. You fight me, I fight back. That’s what happened.”

She adjusts her spectacles and makes some notes on her clipboard. “And, how exactly, did you fight back?”

I cackle. “I got annoyed when he started shouting. No, Vincent doesn’t really know his boundaries, does he? He knows I don’t like that and he – keeps – on – doing – it.” With each word, I pound the pen on the table while I stare menacingly at her like she was Vincent.

“Go on,” she says, unfazed.

I sit back on the chair and resume licking my lollipop. I make a few sucks, then continue, “So, he started shouting, and I shouted back. Easy-peasy. You fight me, I fight back. It’s not so complicated.”

“Yes, I understand. Then, what happened?”

I cackle again. “Vincent grabbed my hair. But, he’s not too bright, is he? He just doesn’t get me. You fight, I fight. Plain and simple. If he stopped, I would have stopped. He brought this upon himself.”

“So, what happened after Vincent grabbed your hair?”

I put my feet down and cross them instead. “He was shouting at my face so I spat at him. Well, he didn’t seem to like that, did he? He slapped me hard. Not a wise move for him. It angered me.”

“Okay. First, you were annoyed, then you got angry. What did you do then?”

My face turns dark and I bite off a good piece from my lollipop. I roll the piece in my tongue before I crush it in my teeth, bit by bit, as if it were Vincent’s body. “He slapped me. When he slapped me, my head turned towards the knives rack.”

My fists tighten and I look at the bespectacled female across the table. My eyes, thick with black eyeliner and false lashes, bore into hers. “It was within reach, so I picked up a knife and cut through his face. On his left cheek, because that’s where he slapped me. On my left cheek.” I point to the exact spot where Vincent slapped me. “The gash reached the corner of his mouth. It looked as if his mouth extended across his face.” I cackle louder.

She clasps her hands on the table and nods for me to continue.

I pick up a pad paper on the edge of the table and draw hard lines over and over until the paper tears. The ink is red, similar to Vincent’s blood as the knife tears through his body. “He was bleeding and backed off a bit, but I was already on fight mode. Now, when I’m on fight mode, I’m really on fight mode, do you understand?” I pause and look at her menacingly.

“Yes, I understand. You can go on with your story.”

“I’m a fighter, and I fight. I’m a warrior and I do not back down. I stabbed his eyes because I saw his *uckin’ lies. I stabbed his heart because he’s a *uckin’ cold-hearted liar. I stabbed him over and over until nothing of his blood was left. I killed Vincent Berry.”            

Part II: Brittany

 “Could you tell me what happened?”

I raised a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at the pretty lady across the table. She had eyeglasses, but she would have been prettier with contact lenses. I fished a compact mirror from my handbag. “I didn’t kill Vincent,” I said, putting on a layer of red lipstick. “That was Miley.”

“Okay. Go on.”

I closed the compact mirror and fluttered my long lashes at her, “I prefer to work with poise, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

I scrunched up my nose, “Miley is… a little – messy.” I said, “Ungraceful. That’s not really my thing. I’m a little more…” I looked up while I thought of the right word, “finesse.”

“Finesse.” The pretty lady nodded, scribbling some notes. “What do you mean when you say that Miley is messy and ungraceful?”

I crossed my legs while I admired my red stilettos. I raised my foot so the pretty lady could see them. “These remind me of the mess that Miley made.” I said, “Red, the color of blood. It was all over the place. I cleaned up after Miley.”

I put my foot down and continued. “I could hardly recognize Vincent. His eyes were popping out and gushing blood. His face was torn all over. His mouth looked like a bloody joker mouth.” I shook my head slightly and tutted. “Not a pretty way to die. Poor man. I would have strangled him. Clean, effortless, finesse.”

“You said you cleaned up after Miley?”

“Oh, yes. Vincent was bleeding all over the kitchen floor. I couldn’t stand the mess, so I put him to bleed in a large garbage bag. But the garbage bag wasn’t a pretty sight in the kitchen, too.” I scrunched up my nose again in disgust. “It’s not very fancy, you know? And I like the fancy kind of stuff.”

“So, what did you do?”

I traced my red-painted fingernails on the edge of the table, “Well, we live by the river, you know? I thought it was fancy to wash up the blood in the river.” I laughed. “So, I put on my red stilettos, yes, these same ones, and got to work. Mind you –” I flicked a dainty finger on her, “- with poise and finesse.”

“Could you expound on that, Brittany?”

“Well, it was difficult to haul Vincent all the way to the river, you know.” I flicked my hair, “I mean, he’s buff, after all, which is one of the qualities I like about him. Oh, his body –” I closed my eyes and thought of his body when he made love to me, “He was really hot and sexy.”

“So, you had difficulty, but you were able to take him to the river, right?”

“I put my hair in a nice, high bun, put on red lipstick, wore my stilettos, and I took him out gracefully.” I smiled with satisfaction. “Always work with grace and poise, get that?”

“Okay. Got it. What happened next?”

“Well, I took him out of the garbage bag and let the water do its job. First, the blood, and when he was clean, I let the river take him. Better than digging up a grave for him.” I scrunched up my nose, “That’s not very fancy, you know? I don’t like getting myself dirty and sweaty.”

“So, you finished your job with poise and grace, is that right?”

“Well, I wasn’t quite finished yet. I cleaned up the kitchen, too. Miley’s such a pig.” I scowled with disgust. “Still on my red stilettos and high bun, I wiped every drop of blood in the kitchen and finished everything off with alcohol and disinfectant. Isn’t that posh?”

Part III: Tessa

“Could you tell me what happened?”

Tessa covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. Her voice was muffled as she said, “I – don’t – know. I don’t know what happened.” She sniffed and cried some more.

I paused and let Tessa gather herself. The murder of Vincent Berry made big news in the quiet, small town of Topaz. He was a famous football player before he retired prematurely and has since avoided the limelight.

“When do you last remember talking to him?”

Tessa fidgeted. “Somehow, I remember a full moon. It was a full moon when he walked out… We were fighting then he walked out and never came back. But – I don’t remember going out that night. I don’t know why I know that it’s full moon.”

“Did you perhaps look outside the window?”

Tessa shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed, “After he left, I locked myself in the room and cried the whole night.” Her bawling resumed. “He – was – having – sex – chats – with – someone – else – I – saw – it – but – he – denied – and – got – mad – at – me.” She said in between tears.

I offered her a box of tissues. “How long have you been living together again?”

Tessa blew her nose then said, “A year.”

I adjusted my glasses and tried to tread the waters. “Has there been any incidence of … abuse in the course of your cohabitation?”

“I –” Tessa clenched and unclenched her fists. “He might have hurt me in our first few months together…” Her voice trailed off.

I frowned. “Might have hurt you? You’re not sure about this?”

“I…” Tessa clasped her hands tightly and looked at the floor, “My memory’s a bit fogged up, Dr. Reinhart…I seem to have a memory of him hitting me, but I don’t know if it’s a dream or even real at all.”

I took a deep breath. “You said, in your first few months together… Did this – hitting – whether it was a dream or not – did it stop?”

Tessa sobbed in her hands again, “I don’t remember anything at all, Dr. Reinhart!” She cried in frustration, “Sometimes, I see bruises all over my body and I don’t know where I got them. Sometimes, I get a black eye and wonder if I hit my head or slipped or fell somewhere that I can’t remember.”

“You seem to have memory lapses, Tessa. Has this been going on for a while?”

“Just – this year.” Tessa sniffed. “I used to have good memory. I was top in my class because I memorized faster than most of my classmates. I remember birthdates and events without needing a planner. I also remember the particulars of any event – like, what happened in my birthday last year, or the year before that. I’m usually good at recalling events.”

I removed my glasses and rubbed my eyes tiredly. It was no doubt a case of dissociative identity disorder. Vincent Berry was missing for a couple of days before his body was found in the riverbank across town. Ironically, it was his girlfriend, Tessa, who reported him missing, but also the primary suspect for the murder. Tessa was not indicted; she was referred to my mental health facility after her lawyer noticed lapses, incoherence, and inconsistencies in her personality.

I have only met two of Tessa’s alters in the course of our sessions. Now, finally, undoubtedly, I am talking to Tessa’s core personality. The question that which remains is: how many more personalities are there? And what was their take on the murder of Vincent Berry?