Detective Chambers walked into the smoky interrogation room behind his partner. The small hanging lamp was the only light in the room. It dimly lit the shadowed features of the skinny young man in the chair opposite them at the cold metal table. His lip bled slightly from the struggle he had put up getting him here. As they pulled out the chairs opposite the man he didn’t so much as flinch at the noise of the metal legs clanging the floor.
“Is this gonna take long? You’re making me late for work. I already told you guys everything I knew. I don’t know anything about that girl,” the skinny young man said flatly.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Ramsey, we’ll be asking the questions. And, between you and me, I’d say being late for work should be the least of your worries right now. I’m Detective Chambers and this is my partner Detective Gonzales.” Gonzales said nothing, he only stared at Ramsey with obvious disgust on his face.
Ramsey regarded him with a similar look and said, “Well, now that we all know each other, could we get on with this?” Chambers smiled and placed a thick file on the table in front of him. He opened it and pulled out a smaller folder marked photos.
“I want you to take a look at few photos while we go over the transcript of your previous questioning.”
Ramsey leaned forward and said, “Fine. Whatever. Can I get a smoke there, sport? That bitch at the desk took everything I had in my pockets.”
Gonzales frowned, but slid the cigarettes and matches across the table. Chambers was busy laying out the crime scene photos on the table. Ramsey lit the cigarette and pushed the pack back across the table. He drew in deeply and exhaled smoke in the detective’s direction.
“Now, in your statement from May 23rd you said that you went to the movies by yourself at the time of the murder. Correct?” Chambers asked.
“Yeah, I saw that new alien movie. So what?” Ramsey answered cockily.
“So, we have two witnesses that put you at Ms. Valdez’s residence at that same time. You have a reason for that?” Chambers asked.
Ramsey flicked an ash onto the table and leaned forward into the lamplight. “Yeah, I’d say that they’re apparently fucking mistaken. I showed the cops my ticket stub. What more can I say?” He leaned heavily back in the chair and took another deep drag from the cigarette. The brightening red cherry lit his face eerily.
Gonzales jumped forward suddenly from his chair. “When you were interrogated two weeks ago with the other suspects, you all had samples of blood taken. We did so for a specific reason. You see, the only bit of evidence we foundat the scene was an eyelash found on the victim’s bed. The deceased and her boyfriend were cleared yesterday when we got the DNA test results. In fact, the other two suspects were cleared too. Everyone excluded, except for you, mother fucker!” Gonzales yelled, leaning over the table. Spittle escaped his lips and spattered the photos in his excitement. Chamber’s noticed that Ramsey’s expression never faltered, he just looked up at Gonzales blankly.
Gonzales pushed the table hard against Ramsey’s chest, making him drop his cigarette and stumble back in his chair. Chambers caught the tape recorder before it fell to the floor, then grabbed his partner’s shoulder.
“Calm down, Isidro! We’ve got him. Why don’t you go get us some coffee? I have a feeling this is going to take a while.”
Gonzales looked down at Ramsey, who was smirking up at him. He reached across the table and grabbed Ramsey’s shirt, pulling him forward. With his free hand he held the pictures of the dead girl up to Ramsey’s face and yelled, “Look at that fucking picture! You did this! You! You’re DNA matched! Game over, mother fucker!”
Chambers jumped up, pulled Gonzales off,and pushed him towards the door. “God damn it! I said that’s enough! Go get some coffee and calm the fuck down!”
Gonzales snorted and backed up to the door, straightening his tie. He was still staring wild-eyed at Ramsey.
“Sure. Sorry, Andy. It’s just the shit he did to that girl.”
“I know, I know. But we got him now. He can’t hurt anybody else. Look, just take a walk and cool off,” Chambers said and paused to look at Ramsey, then continued, “I can take it from here.” Gonzales shook his head and stepped out of the room. Chambers closed the door behind him and turned back to Ramsey.
“Before we go further, I need to read you your rights,” Chambers said as he took his seat again at the table. Ramsey didn’t respond verbally or physically, he just sat slumped and still in the darkness with his head down. Chambers cleared his throat to raise his voice for the benefit of the audio recording.
“Bradley Ramsey, you are being placed under arrest for the murder of Jessica Lynn Valdez. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney; if you can’t afford an attorney,the court will appoint one for you. Do you understand these rights as I’ve explained them to you today?” Chambers stated. Ramsey sat silently. “Mr. Ramsey, do you understand your rights?”
Finally, the skinny man lifted his head and said, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions. You don’t have to answer them without an attorney present. If you’d like to call him, I can have a phone provided for you.”
Ramsey leaned forward in the chair and said, “That won’t be necessary. Could I have another cigarette?”
“Sure,” Chambers answered and pushed the pack across the table to him. “So, you don’t mind answering any questions?”
Ramsey lit the cigarette, drew deeply, and shook the match out. As he exhaled, he answered, “No, I’m kind of anxious to get it all off my chest.”
Chambers raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying you want to confess?”
“Among other things, but yes. I mean, as your angry friend said; game over, right?” Ramsey asked nonchalantly.
“Right. So, why don’t you go ahead and state your full name, age, and occupation, before you start.” Ramsey shook his head as leaned forward to ash his cigarette and said, “Sure.”
“My name is Bradley Alexander Ramsey. I’m twenty-six years old. And I’m a mailman for the United States Postal Service. I guess it’s best to start at the beginning. Ever since I can remember I’ve liked to kill. I’m not sick or anything, I just have a compulsion. I’ve struggled with it all my life. It started with animals when I was a kid. My dog had puppies and I took them out behind our shed in the back yard and twisted their little heads off one by one. I remember being annoyed by their screams, it only made me want to kill them faster. I can’t explain it. I guess I wanted to see what their insides looked like. I wanted them to stop being. So, I killed them. I buried them in the field behind our house. I told my parents they ran away, but I know they didn’t believe me. But the funny thing is, they didn’t say anything. I think they were a little scared of me. I was really bright for my age.”
Chambers sat staring at him and said, “Mr. Ramsey…”
Ramsey cut him off saying, “Call me Brad.”
“Fine. Brad, this is all very interesting, but can we get to Jessica Valdez?” Ramsey leaned forward into the lamplight again. Chambers leaned back a little, not liking the emptiness in his eyes.
“If you please, Detective Chambers, I’m going somewhere with this. I don’t think that you know exactly who you’re dealing with. I want to bring you up to speed before we get to the girl whose face I smashed. We’ll get to her eventually.” Ramsey answered politely. He leaned back in the chair bringing his face back into the darkness and continued nursing his cigarette.
Chambers interest was officially peaked. “Sorry, please go on,” he said cheerfully. Inwardly he was dreading where this was going.
“Thank you. After the puppies, I developed a taste for it. On my way home from school I’d look for cats, grasshoppers, dogs, lizards; anything I could find that would bleed. Anything alive really; anything that could die. And the ways I’d do them. I got bored with just ripping their heads off pretty quick. It ended them too fast. I wanted it to last longer. So, I got some tools out of the shed and got creative with it. After the first dozen or so I stopped despising the screams and started to embrace them. I’d get a dog or cat and hold their heads down and smash their teeth out with a hammer. I liked doing this best to dogs. With cats I’d have the most fun though, you know, they’re so skitzy and temperamental. I’d use a screwdriver to stab and yank their eyes out. Once they were blinded I’d tie a couple of fishing hooks and lures in separate wire strands to the main line on my fishing pole. I’d put a few in their tongues and random bits of skin on their bodies. Then I’d get a lighter and burn their genitals as I held them down. When I let them up and their blind asses took off running, I’d cut the slack on my fishing reel until they reached the stopping point. When the hooks dug in them good and deep against their forward momentum, I’d give the pole a hard yank and start reeling them in. I did it slow and methodically, you know, to fuck with their heads by letting them think that they had a chance to get away. Man, how they’d struggle.”
Ramsey had to stop for a second to collect himself. He was giggling incessantly at the memories he was drawing up. After a disturbing moment he continued.
“Sorry about that, I just got caught up in the memory. Anyway, when I finally reeled them all the way in and they were all exhausted by this incredibly painful battle for their lives, I’d bound them up with duct tape. They fought uselessly with their tired little arms. Then I’d shoot them slowly in different parts of their body with my Red Rider BB gun. I would deliberately do this slow to prolong their pain for as long as possible. I think the one that took the longest to die was a big neighborhood tomcat named Simon. I remember it took at least 4 1/2 hours one Saturday or Sunday morning, I can’t remember which. Tough little bastard though, I’ll give him that. But there were lots of animals, too many to count. I didn’t kill my first person until I was 8.”
“Did you say kill your first person?” Chambers asked leaning forward on the table.
“Yes, the first of many. He was my cousin. His name was Franklin Ramsey. I hated that fat little fuck. I was very proud of myself after that one. Would you like to hear about it?” he asked excitedly.
“Yes, I’m listening. You said his name was Franklin Ramsey. Where was this? Were you charged with the murder?” Chambers asked as he wrote the boy’s name on the tablet in front of him.
“No, I made it look like an accident of course. Oh, and you don’t have to write anything down. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done. I’ll confess to them all freely. Well, the ones whose names I remember,” Ramsey said happily. Chambers looked at the skinny man in front of him puzzled. He hadn’t expected this. What the hell had he stumbled onto? Who the fuck was this guy?
“I think it was 1982. I’d gone to stay with my aunt during the summer and she’d taken Franklin and myself to go see E.T. I wasn’t too crazy about it, but Franklin’s tubby little ass had his heart set on it. So we went and saw it and came home. Franklin went to play up the street while I stayed at the house and played in the back yard.”
Chambers sat looking at him, genuinely intrigued. Ramsey’s features were still hidden in the dark. He could only hear his unnervingly calm voice and look at the smoke billow into the light as he exhaled. The sudden silence was starting to make Chambers uncomfortable. He couldn’t see Ramsey’s features, but he was sure that he was watching him, studying him.
“So, what happened? Why didn’t you go off with Franklin?” Chambers asked finally. His own voice sounded shaky to his ears. He coughed a little bit to steady himself and clear his throat. He couldn’t let Ramsey know he was getting to him.
Ramsey exhaled and tapped the cigarette ashes into the ashtray. Chambers saw the lamplight glitter tiny white pinpoints in Ramsey’s eyes as he looked at the bright red cherry on the cigarette.
“I told you. I hated the little fucker. If my parents didn’t force me to go, I wouldn’t even had been there. And besides he had a rabbit named Floppers in the backyard that I wanted to get more acquainted with. Anyways, while my aunt was watching her soap operas, I was in the back yard getting old Floppers out of his cage. I took him through the back gate and into the alley. They had a lot of neighbors living around them. Across the alley and two houses up was a backyard with a big ass pitbull in it. I’m not sure what his name was, but he was a mean fucker, I remember that,” Ramsey said. He paused to chuckle again. Chambers looked at him curiously.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t thought about this in a while. It still tickles me after all these years. Anyway, where was I?” he asked snuffing out the butt of the cigarette.
“You’d just taken the rabbit into the alley,” Chambers said dryly. His voice was steadier now, even if his nerves weren’t. Something about this guy was just rubbing him the wrong way.
“Oh yeah, right. Well it was twitching like crazy. The rabbit, I mean. They say that animals can sense emotions in humans. If it could tell what I had in mind for it, then I certainly could understand why it was flailing around like it was. It really went nuts when I got it to the fence.
“The pitbull was going crazy on the other side. It clamped its jaws down through the interlocking chain link fence. It could smell the rabbit and its fear, or maybe it wanted me? I’d like to think it wanted the rabbit. I kind of had the feeling that the dog and myself were kindred spirits.” Ramsey stopped to see what Chambers’ reaction was at that point. He only looked on with a look of deep curiosity on his face. Pleased with that, Ramsey continued.
“The barking sent the rabbit into shock or something. One of its hind legs caught me on the forearm. It had sharp little claws that tore into my skin. I was furious. So I grabbed the leg and snapped it in my hand. It squeaked loudly. Did you know that a rabbit could scream, Detective?” Ramsey asked venomously. Chambers shook his head no and flipped his hand at him, meaning for him to continue.
“Well they do. Believe me. Everything screams in some way or another. So, just about the time it screamed I heard someone gasp behind me. When I turned around I saw Franklin standing at the open gate of his back yard looking at me. He screamed Floppers name and ran towards me. When he was about five feet away I threw Floppers over the fence in with the pit bull. The dog had it in its jaws as soon as it hit the ground. Franklin looked in disbelief as the dog shook its big, scarred head back and forth with the rabbit in its mouth. I heard a pop and knew that either the rabbit’s neck or back were broken. Either way it wasn’t going anywhere.”
Ramsey stopped and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the table. He placed one in this mouth and lit it. He didn’t bother to ask permission this time.
“Franklin started screaming. ‘Floppers! Floppers!’ Shit like that. He climbed up a little on the fence. He was wailing at the bloody mess the dog had turned his fluffy, white rabbit into. Then I just pushed him from behind. I had to run a little from across the alley and throw my shoulder upward to knock him over the fence. His shoe clocked me in the head when he tumbled into the yard. I fell backward and smacked the back of my head hard on the pavement, but it was worth it. As I fell back I saw his legs go upright and point at the sky. He landed flat on his back and knocked the wind out of himself. The dog was on him like that. It grabbed him around the bicep on his arm and started slinging him around like a rag doll. He stopped screaming though. I remember that because I was so disappointed. I wanted to hear him squeal.”
Ramsey stopped talking and tapped the ashes into the ashtray. Chambers sat looking at him. He was so enthralled with the story that he didn’t notice his mouth hung slightly open. Ramsey smiled at him and continued.
“From inside the house I heard someone yell at the dog to shut up. The dog let Franklin go and reluctantly went to the back door with its tail between its legs. I think the guy must have beat it or fought it or something. Its face and body were all scarred up. Anyway Franklin gets to his feet and staggers to the fence to climb over into the alley. When the dog hears the fence shaking it charges back towards him. Franklin was halfway over the fence when he turned and saw it running towards him. I got to my feet and stood in front of where he clung to the fence. He looked at me and I saw the terror on his face. I saw the blood flowing from his arm and the dog closing on him. The whole scene was delicious. He reached a hand towards me to help pull him over. I looked him right in the eye and punched him in the nose. He yelped and fell backward hard to the ground. That time the dog went for the throat. I remember how the blood just appeared suddenly. There was so much of it. At first I thought the dog was puking blood or something. Then it went to his face and I saw the hole in Franklin’s throat. His body was jerking like crazy when it tore at his cheek, but I think he was dead. It was great. A few minutes later he was dead and I sat watching the dog lick at Franklin’s mangled throat. It ate a little of his face and then rested its head on his carcass proudly. But that was the first time I killed a person. Well, the dog did the actual killing, but I think I was at least an accomplice, right? I certainly didn’t try and save the fat little bastard.”
“No, I’d say you had more than a little to do with his death,” Chambers assured him. Inwardly he thought this was crazy. It was like the guy wanted assurance that he was a murderer. And the way he spoke so proudly of it, like he was boasting, it made Chambers nauseous.
“So what happened then? How’d you get out of it?”
Ramsey leaned back in the chair. “I just turned on the water works. I mean I was eight, for god’s sakes. Me being involved was the furthest thing from their minds. Except for my mom and dad. Somehow they knew I had something to do with it. They didn’t have any proof, but they knew.”
“Don’t you even feel bad about this? How do you think your aunt’s going to react when she finds out you killed her son?” Chambers asked angrily. He was getting fed up with the maddening glee in Ramsey’s voice as he described what he’d done.
Ramsey leaned forward into the light and smiled at Chambers. “I don’t think she’ll have too much to say about it, Detective. I killed her when I was sixteen. I broke into her house and bashed her fucking brains out with a tire iron. I’m sure wherever she is she knows exactly what I am.” As he finished he leaned back into the darkness. Letting the cherry of the cigarette again make his features glow that dim red.
Chambers leaned forward with his elbows on the table. He was more than a little taken aback. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger then asked, “You killed your aunt, too? What did she do to make you kill her?”
Ramsey shifted slightly in the chair. He was pleased to be in such control of the conversation. He took another long drag from the cigarette before he responded to Chambers’ question.
“Aunt Patricia? I guess she really didn’t do anything to set me off if that’s what you’re asking. I was just in a spot and needed some quick cash. She was supposed to be at work, but her fat ass was there, sitting in the living room watching her stories. I went in through the garage so she didn’t hear me come in. I saw her big head from behind as she watched the TV. I don’t know what it was but I just wanted to destroy her. Do you know what I mean?”
“No, I don’t. But go on. What happened next?” Chambers asked feeling a little queasy.
“Like I said, I went to the garage and got a tire iron from my late Uncle Jim’s workbench. Then I crept up behind her and bashed her fucking brains in. She was useless, ya’ know? One of those fucks who serve no purpose? Well, anyway she was one of those people. So after that, I went upstairs, took her jewelry and anything else I could pawn, and then I went about my merry way. She really didn’t see it coming so it wasn’t that big of a deal. I think they ended up pinning it on some Mexican that had been breaking into houses around that time, so he’s probably locked up for life as we speak. So really I killed two people that day. Kind of a two for one, huh?” Ramsey asked happily.
Chambers leaned back in his chair and put a hand to his sweaty forehead. He wasn’t sure what to say or think at that point. He’d never dealt with anyone like this before. Finally he said, “You’re a sick man, Mr. Ramsey.”
Ramsey leaned forward into the light and said, “Am I?” He then smiled, snuffed out the cigarette, and retreated back to the darkness he seemed so comfortable in.
Chambers closed the folder in front of him and asked, “Just how many people have you killed?”
At first, Ramsey giggled from across the table instead of answering. He was happy with the detective’s fear. He could almost taste it. Chambers tried to maintain his gruff exterior, but Ramsey knew fear when he saw it.
“Man, that’s a good question. Are we talking like ballpark figures here, or what?” Ramsey asked honestly.
“If a ballpark figure is the best you can do right now, then that’s fine, Mr. Ramsey. So please answer the question.”
“Ok. I can do that. But for the last time, please call me Brad. Mr. Ramsey sounds so formal. I’m sharing personal information with you so the least you could do is give the courtesy of addressing me by my first name. Cool?”
Chambers scooted the chair forward, obviously irritated. “Fine. Brad, how many people, ballpark, have you murdered over the years?”
“See isn’t that better? Now we’re all chummy again,” Ramsey said.
Chambers shook his head quickly in response. He just wanted this confession to be over with. Something about this guy didn’t feel right. Ramsey was really starting to give him the willies and he found himself wishing that he hadn’t sent Isidro out of the room.
“Well, I’d say one hundred at least, maybe two. It’s hard to keep track, but I know it was quite a few. After I watched Franlkin die I kind of got a hunger for it. Even more than I did killing animals. People are so much more entertaining. Animals don’t beg.” Ramsey stopped and thought about what he said for a moment then continued, “Well, I guess in all fairness they probably beg in their own way, but I’ll be damned if I can understand them. It’s like killing a foreigner or something, you know? I mean it’s fun and all, but I like to hear people grovel in English. It’s just a lot more fun that way.”
Chambers looked into the dark where he gauged Ramsey’s eyes would be and said, “You’re not just sick, you’re a monster.”
Ramsey let out a deep hearty laugh at that. Confusion swept over Chambers’ face. He couldn’t understand how someone could be so evil. And then his laugh. It didn’t sound like any laugh he’d ever heard before. His mind grappled for a word to describe it and all he could come up with was “wrong.”
Ramsey leaned suddenly into the light again. For a split second, Chambers thought his eyes flashed a bright red and flinched back involuntarily. Ramsey smiled crazily at him from across the table.
“I need another smoke before I go on,” Ramsey said matter of factly and reached for the pack of cigarettes and matches. Chambers didn’t answer, he just watched Ramsey’s fluent movements as he lit a smoke and eased back into the darkness. The cherry did it’s eerie lighting on his features again as he settled into the chair.
Chambers coughed a little to clear his throat and try to reassert himself. After a deep breath he placed his hands as calmly as he could on the table and locked the fingers together so Ramsey wouldn’t see his hands shaking. Somewhat satisfied he asked, “Fine. But I’m investigating the death of Jessica Valdez. Can we start with what happened the night of May 23rd and work our way back from there?”
Ramsey shifted in his chair again and said, “Ok, sure. Whatever rocks your boat, Detective.”
Chambers shot him a cross look, but said nothing. He needed to get this part on tape. He looked at the spinning wheels through the recorder’s window to make sure the tape was still rolling. It was.
“Do you need to change the tape?” Ramsey asked. “Cause I can wait. I’m not in any hurry.”
“No, the tape’s fine. I’ll let you know when this side runs out.”
“Fine. Then let’s get to it, shall we?” Ramsey said politely. Chambers nodded his head and motioned with his hand for him to continue.
“In April, a friend of mine down at the post office got married, so I volunteered to cover his route for him while he was away. That’s when I saw her. She didn’t have a mailbox, she had one of those little front door slots, so I went to the door to drop off her mail and I hear this moaning coming from around the side of the house. Now, I’m naturally a curious person so I went to investigate. Her bedroom window was open and she had these lacey white curtains blowing outward. When I got closer to it, the moaning had grown louder and I heard a buzzing sound like a mosquito. When I got close enough to look in the window, I saw this beautiful Mexican girl with long dark hair, lying buck-naked and spread eagle on her bed. She was rubbing her clit with one hand and fucking herself with a viborator with the other. She was getting after it too. I sat quietly and watched her until she’d finished. I watched the wetness from inside her glistening in the afternoon light. When she climaxed she pulled her soaked hand from her crotch and sucked the juices from her fingers. I can still see her pouting lips sucking them greedily. And the way her cheeks sunk in as she tasted herself. Umm-mmm. Anyway, then she pulled the viborator out and put it to her clit to finish the job. When she finally came her body tensed and arched up from the bed. She was fucking gorgeous.”
Ramsey stopped talking and took another drag from the cigarette. Chambers saw that he was looking towards the ceiling and assumed that he was reminiscing about the scene he’d just described. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
“Look, Mr. Ramsey… or Brad, or whatever. This girl is dead and she’s dead because you killed her. I don’t know what kind of fucked up fantasy world you’re living in, but let’s skip your delusions and get to the night you killed her,” Chambers said. His voice was beginning to rise.
Ramsey exhaled, sending a puff of smoke into Chambers’ face from the darkness. Chambers arms tensed and he thought about taking a swing at the monster in front of him. As he went to move, Ramsey began speaking again causing the urge to subside.
“I know what you’re thinking, Detective. I’m sure your reports showed no evidence of the girl being sexually assaulted, so you’re probably wondering why I didn’t rape her. Especially after the scene I just described. Am I right?”
Chambers looked across the table into the darkness and asked, “So why didn’t you?”
Ramsey sat forward into the light and said, “Because I didn’t want to. I’m a monster, Detective, but not the kind you think I am. Sure, she was a beautiful girl, but I’m not into the whole rape thing. I went back to kill her because she was so happy. The bliss and ecstasy I saw on her face made me want her. Not sexually though, I wanted her joy to go away. She was so carefree and wild. I just wanted to obliterate her pretty face. I wanted her soul.”
As he finished his sentence the tape stopped. Chambers jumped a little at the noise then cursed himself silently for doing so. Ramsey didn’t move at all, he just sat watching Chambers as he flipped the tape over. He then took the opportunity to light up another cigarette and ease back into the darkness he seemed so fond of.
With the tape rolling again, Chambers was more than ready to move on. In all honesty, he wanted this to be over with, to be out of this little room and away from Ramsey. Far away.
“So, is that why you kill people Brad? Do you think that when you kill them, their souls become yours?”
Ramsey mulled this over for a moment before answering. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but in a word, yes, I kill people for their souls.”
Chambers smiled a little and tapped his fingers on the table. His smile turned into a chuckle while Ramsey sat watching him letting the cigarette burn in his hand.
“Did that amuse you, Detective?” Ramsey asked.
“Well, Mr. Ramsey. It did. I was starting to think that you were this smooth, cold-blooded, remorseless killer, but you’re just another psycho nut job that got lucky for a long time. But I’ve got news for you. Your luck’s run out, and when people die, even people you kill, they go to heaven or hell. End of story.” Chambers said. He was starting to feel more in control of the situation.
“I never said that people didn’t go to heaven or hell. They do. Just not the ones that I kill.” Ramsey said.
“Whatever you say, Mr. Ramsey. Can we get back to the night of May 23rd? I’ve still got more scumbags to deal with, and frankly, I’m sick of looking at you. So let’s just cut the bullshit and get this wrapped up.”
Ramsey chuckled again and took another drag from his cigarette. As he exhaled he asked, “So, now I’m a scumbag. And here I was thinking I was a monster. Let me ask you a question, Detective. Is your soul clean? Do you sleep good at night knowing that you’re fucking your partner’s wife? While your own wife lies unsatisfied and unloved beside you?”
Chambers looked at the blackness across from him, shocked. The tape recorder and the murders were now forgotten, and the slight fear he’d been feeling during the confession had now turned to full on panic. He felt sweat seeping from every pore of his body. Finally, in a weak voice, he managed to ask, “H-H-How do you know that?”
A plume of smoke appeared from the darkness across from him as Ramsey exhaled. Chambers was petrified. He sat shaking in his chair looking at the dark where Ramsey’s face would be. Ramsey only sat watching him.
“I know everything about you, Detective. I know your fears and all of your secret sins. I know your soul. I know it because it’s mine.” Ramsey finally answered, although to Chambers his voice sounded different.
“What the fuck do mean!?” Chambers screamed. He’d never heard such terror in his own voice. He felt like he was going crazy.
Ramsey flipped the cigarette at him and it bounced off his chest and landed in his lap. It burned Chambers’ skin but he didn’t notice. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Ramsey.
Ramsey leaned forward into the light, revealing his true self. Dark blue veins criss-crossed his pale face and his eyes had no pupils. His gums were lined with long, sharp, cone-shaped teeth. As he breathed, the smell of a hundred dead bodies filled the room.
Chambers let out a high-pitched scream and fell backward in the chair sending him careening to the floor. The Ramsey-thing flipped the metal table over into the darkness where it clanged against the wall. Chambers scooted himself back against the cold wall behind him, screaming as the thing stared at him with its evil eyes.
Ramsey spoke again but Chambers didn’t exactly hear the words, he felt them. His heart was racing with mind-numbing terror and his mind was far from comprehending anything. All he knew was fear.
“When you and your partner came to arrest me this afternoon I killed you. Both of you. I slit your fat fucking throat. Go ahead and feel your neck. A bit gooey isn’t it?” the thing said.
Chambers felt his throat and pulled it away quickly from the gore he found there. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it might explode. In fact, he wished that it would. As the thing moved closer he cried out, “What do you want!? Why are you doing this to me?“
“You know what I want Andy,” the thing said. “I want to tear you apart over and over again for the rest of eternity. I want to hear your screams whenever I want them. But do you know what I want most of all, Andy? I want us all to be friends.”
The dark room suddenly grew insanely bright as Chambers looked at the horror around him. Hundreds of people were being tortured for as far as he could see, all of them dead yet somehow alive. Their pain was so thick he could feel it. Chambers began screaming like he never had before and all of the flailing atrocities around him joined in with him.
The Ramsey-thing smiled at the sound and said, “Delicious.”