She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,41

it was impossible for me to separate her, in the past or in the present, from the innermost life of my life.”

― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

August 8, 1992

Sixteen Years Old

Log 08/08/1992—

Interview with Dr. Helen Durgin. Subject “D” appears aggravated but in control of his emotional state.

Audio/video recording.

“I want to see her.”

“You know the drill. You do as we ask, then you get to see her. That’s the rule.”

“Another phone call?”

“Another phone call.”

“Phone calls can be traced, Doc. Maybe you should take me there this time.”

“You know we can’t do that.”

“Then bring the person here. Let me see their face when I do it. Is it a man or a woman this time?”

“Does that matter?”

“No, just curious.”

“A man.”

“Why him? What did he do?”

The doctor said nothing.

“And after, you’ll let me see her again?”

“That’s the rule.”

“How long?”

“One hour.”

“I want two.”

“One hour, and if you push again, I’ll see that she is only here for thirty minutes. Maybe less.”

“Sorry, Doc.”

“Doctor Durgin.”

“Sorry, Doctor Durgin. It’s just, I don’t get to see anyone. Only you and her. I look forward to her visits.”

“But not mine?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, David. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

“You talk to me because you have to, it’s your job. She talks to me because she wants to.”

“And you wouldn’t hurt her? Like your parents? Like the others?”

“You mean, like the phone calls?”

“Yes. Like the phone calls.”

“No. I’d never hurt her.”

“Do you love her?”

Silence.

“David?”

“I’m not sure I know what love is. I only know love from books.”

“Love is caring for someone more than you care for yourself. Think of it this way—if killing me meant you’d get freedom, would you do it?”

Silence.

“You can answer, David. You won’t get in trouble. Would you kill me to get out of this place?”

“You’re deaf. I can’t kill you.”

“But if you could, if I could hear you, would you kill me?”

“For freedom?”

“Yes, for complete freedom.”

“Yes.”

“No hesitation? No remorse? We’ve known each other for a long time.”

“You keep me in a box. I’m only permitted out of my box if I wear a mask. I’m your prisoner, you’re my jailor. I’m nothing more than a lab rat to you.”

“And Stella, would you kill her? If ending her life meant you could taste that exact same freedom?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, I think you do. You’ve spent countless hours with her, and she can hear you, and you’ve never hurt her. You’ve never even tried, not even as a child.”

“And that means I love her?”

“I believe it does, yes.”

David said nothing.

“Let’s take it to another level. If I told you to kill her, instructed you to kill her, and said that if you did, I would guarantee you received that same freedom I mentioned earlier, would you do it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’d be lying. You’d never let me go.”

“For argument’s sake, let’s say that I would.”

“I don’t think I could hurt her.”

“Because you love her.”

“I suppose I do, if that’s what love means.”

“More than you loved your parents when you killed them?”

“I was a kid, I overreacted.”

“And if it were to happen again today, you wouldn’t hurt them?”

“No, I can control it now. I understand how it works. I rule my emotions, I don’t allow my emotions to rule me.”

“That’s good, David. Very insightful.”

“So I can see her, then?”

“After we make a phone call.”

“Okay.”

—Charter Observation Team – 309

1

“Have you been here all night?”

Detective Faustino Brier must have drifted off. He hadn’t heard Joy Fogel come in, hadn’t heard her get coffee, and didn’t notice when she planted herself at the desk facing his. She sat there now, a steaming mug of coffee resting between her hands, leaning back in her chair, her head tilted a little to the left. She tended to do that when she asked a question. Over time, Faustino noticed the tilt went left when she already knew the answer to her latest query, and to the right when she did not.

Faustino sat up straight in his own chair, looked at the empty coffee mug in front of him, and smacked his dry lips. “What time is it?”

“Four twenty-three in the morning,” she said, without missing a beat.

“That’s a neat trick. You just know that?”

“I can see the clock in interrogation room two from here.”

Faustino twisted his head around and glanced behind him. His neck let out a series of pops and creaks. He could make out a white blob hanging on the wall of the small interrogation room, but that was about it. His vision had gradually gotten worse in the past