Her

Her

Prison
322 Bromine, Lead, one, one, four
Wilson Endrin. W-I-L…

The black came out in inky globs and then stopped. The hunched figure of a man bit his lip slightly, staring at the page, not quite certain what he was seeing. He felt half asleep and half awake yet never one or the other, not since he arrived. The tattered notebook was conspicuously stuffed into the pocket of his trousers as he heard footsteps approaching. He could sense an aura of arrogance and control from the other man, the way he walked, the way he breathed. Wilson was always holding his breath. No, not this man though.

He looked up and straightened out his posture, readying himself for a confrontation or a job interview. There ought to be something witty to say, the perfect comeback, perfectly timed. He was afraid of confident men but not those who did not know their limits. There was a difference between vanity and pride. One was dependent on actions and reactions. During the test he would give all the wrong answers because they knew he wanted to give the right ones. He would play along all the way or not at all, that was the only way to get rid of people like that. Wilson’s mind worked sporadically, one thought intermingling with another to form an intangible, incomprehensible mess.
He felt trapped. They had pinned him to a wall and now it was nothing more than a waiting game.

Wilson had killed Amy and taken money from Robert. The first was easy but frightening, there was a second of fear, one look back, and them it was over. One bullet. Two bullets. Body. Cop car. She was so close to perfect yet never close enough, there was little else that he could do. Wilson wished she had stood up to him, if only once, swore at him and smashed his nose in but she always forgave him and nothing made him angrier. Somehow he had let her surpass him. He buried his mind in that second and he did it. His other deed took more planning and calculating, but he was an accountant, he was good with numbers. No one should have noticed if he had not needed to laugh at them more than he needed the money. He wanted to push them in the dirt with a face full of shame, the lot of idiots, for taking his life away. Deep down he knew he took his own life but that did not matter much, as long as someone fell and paid up.

Hush, here he comes.

They plugged the machine into the wall-socket. Click. Click. Buzz. A red light. A red eye. Recording. Recording.

D: “How are we doing today Mr. Endrin -- are you in the mood for a chat?”
E: “Yes sir.”
D: “Is that so? Well what shall we start off with then?”
E: “With Amy.”
D: “What can you say about Amy?”
E: “She’s lost.”
D: “Lost?”
E: “Yes.”