James
Prologue: Cartright
“He lures them in with a look and spits them back out without a second thought.” Said Althea, her voice soft yet firm, as she stared at the man fidgeting in his chair on the other side of the glass. No, wait. He’s not a man, I can’t allow myself to think of him as such, he is a killer, of not one, but 13 young girls. He’s not a man and he is certainly not a human being. I allow my mind to wander back to Althea, who hadn’t seemed to notice my mental disappearance, “James Cartright.” She murmured, “Can’t believe we finally caught you.” Then she turned and walked back down the hall without another word.
I turned back to look at the killer, Cartright. He was playing idly with the chains that bound his hands while tapping his foot. His gray eyes glazed over with something. I couldn’t quite tell what. It could only be defined as a killer’s eyes or haunted eyes. You find them on the faces of people who have done or seen too much, as I imagine this serial killer had. The faces of his victims, after all, were etched in my mind, in his they must flash repeatedly. Their last moments, their finally gasps, their ultimate disposal.
Cartright turned his head slightly, staring at what to him would have only been glass, but what really was me, my eyes. He raised an eye brow, tilting his head slightly, and for a moment, I forgot who he was and what he had done. Uncaring or believing that this gorgeous man could have committed the crimes, of which he had not plead guilty, but had been acquitted. For a moment, I just saw the man, the man and his soul. His tortured agonized soul. This man was going to Hell and he knew it. Yet, he was not scared, just resigned, like he had never expected anything less. Oddly, I had never seen anything more sad. Had this man ever known peace? What had driven him here? To murder?
I shook my head. Breaking eye contact with Cartright and briefly looking down at the floor, while I collected my thoughts. That last thought drawing me out of my reverie. This man had murdered not one, which would have been bad enough, but thirteen innocent teenage girls. He was a heartless SOB and deserved the death sentence that he would be receiving in a few days time. He was, however, not someone to analyze, study, or otherwise think about in any way other than the actions he had committed. I tightened my jaw. Looking back up at Cartright with a new determination. I’m not one of his victims. Someone he could use and then throw away. I’m better than that. I know exactly what he is.
I took a deep breath and took a step towards the door that would take me into the enclosure. To Cartright. I had to fulfill my job after all.
I turned back to look at the killer, Cartright. He was playing idly with the chains that bound his hands while tapping his foot. His gray eyes glazed over with something. I couldn’t quite tell what. It could only be defined as a killer’s eyes or haunted eyes. You find them on the faces of people who have done or seen too much, as I imagine this serial killer had. The faces of his victims, after all, were etched in my mind, in his they must flash repeatedly. Their last moments, their finally gasps, their ultimate disposal.
Cartright turned his head slightly, staring at what to him would have only been glass, but what really was me, my eyes. He raised an eye brow, tilting his head slightly, and for a moment, I forgot who he was and what he had done. Uncaring or believing that this gorgeous man could have committed the crimes, of which he had not plead guilty, but had been acquitted. For a moment, I just saw the man, the man and his soul. His tortured agonized soul. This man was going to Hell and he knew it. Yet, he was not scared, just resigned, like he had never expected anything less. Oddly, I had never seen anything more sad. Had this man ever known peace? What had driven him here? To murder?
I shook my head. Breaking eye contact with Cartright and briefly looking down at the floor, while I collected my thoughts. That last thought drawing me out of my reverie. This man had murdered not one, which would have been bad enough, but thirteen innocent teenage girls. He was a heartless SOB and deserved the death sentence that he would be receiving in a few days time. He was, however, not someone to analyze, study, or otherwise think about in any way other than the actions he had committed. I tightened my jaw. Looking back up at Cartright with a new determination. I’m not one of his victims. Someone he could use and then throw away. I’m better than that. I know exactly what he is.
I took a deep breath and took a step towards the door that would take me into the enclosure. To Cartright. I had to fulfill my job after all.