actions. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t innocent and I never would be again. The things that I’d done couldn’t be washed away from my soul. I’d willingly tainted myself, and there would never be any going back.
I cracked my eyes open, scrolling through my playlist. My finger hovered over Superman’s Dead , and then I clicked. “…alone I’m thinking, why is Superman dead, is it in my head, we’ll just laugh instead… ” Yes, much better . Superman wasn’t real, but I’d worked hard to create heroes, so they could actually live in our world. They weren’t aliens and didn’t have super powers, but that didn’t matter. Superman might be dead, the message that his creators had strived to communicate lost, but that’s why I’d become the villain the world needed. I’d done it all so the message behind Superman could live.
I turned the volume up and drifted away into the music.
11
Leila
“How about today, Doc? You going to tell me today what it means that I see those butterflies?”
“Tell me, what do you think of this?” Jonah unrolled a large piece of poster-sized paper with a painting on it. The title of ‘Villainess’ scrolled across the bottom immediately caught my eye.
My lips twitched up into a grin. “Who did that?” It was like someone had attempted to make my likeness into a very realistic version of a comic book character. To say I was pleased was an understatement.
“I’m not sure, but obviously you have a fan. How do you feel about that? Do you like the idea of having fans?”
I shrugged, still staring at the masterpiece. I wished I could be that woman in the painting. Her eyes were cold and untroubled. She was not the same person who met my gaze in the mirror every day. “So where did you get it if you don’t know who did it?”
“Found it in some of the mail that’s been arriving for you.”
My gaze flicked up to meet Jonah’s at that. “You were going through that crap? Of course, now you’re making me rethink my choice to not accept any of it.”
“Why don’t you want any of it?” Jonah carefully rolled up the painting and deposited it back in a mailing tube.
“I read a few when it first starting coming in, mostly because I was bored. And let me just say...eeeewww. Did you know one guy sent me his pubes? His fucking pubes. Another guy sent a dick pic.” I shuddered at the disgusting memory. Some things just cannot be un-seen. “I think you stumbled on a gem there, Doc. What are you going to do with it?”
“Why, do you want it?”
I nibbled my bottom lip. “Nah, what am I really going to do with it? You never said why you were going through that crap. So why, Doc?”
Jonah reclined in his chair, his wide shoulders stretching his suit to the limit. “Mostly curiosity. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t enjoy what I do. I like looking into people’s minds. Looking through mail like that gives me a unique experience I won’t get again. Most serial killers are men, with you—”
“I’m not a serial killer.” I ground my teeth together. “At least not one in the traditional sense.”
“A serial killer is defined as someone who kills three or more people, with the murders taking place over a month and including a cooling off period between the murders.” Jonah raised his eyebrows. “You are a serial killer.”
I stood, anger infusing my system. “No, I’m not. I didn’t enjoy killing any of those people. I did it for a purpose. I told you that already. I did it to make this country a better place. I killed because I’m a patriot. Would you call a soldier a serial killer?” My pulse raced and my chest heaved as I stared down Jonah. He eyed me speculatively.
“You may not consider yourself a serial killer, but the rest of the world does.”
“So this is the game we’re going to play today?” I forced my body into submission and sat back down on the couch. “I liked yesterday’s better.”
It hadn’t gone unnoticed
I cracked my eyes open, scrolling through my playlist. My finger hovered over Superman’s Dead , and then I clicked. “…alone I’m thinking, why is Superman dead, is it in my head, we’ll just laugh instead… ” Yes, much better . Superman wasn’t real, but I’d worked hard to create heroes, so they could actually live in our world. They weren’t aliens and didn’t have super powers, but that didn’t matter. Superman might be dead, the message that his creators had strived to communicate lost, but that’s why I’d become the villain the world needed. I’d done it all so the message behind Superman could live.
I turned the volume up and drifted away into the music.
11
Leila
“How about today, Doc? You going to tell me today what it means that I see those butterflies?”
“Tell me, what do you think of this?” Jonah unrolled a large piece of poster-sized paper with a painting on it. The title of ‘Villainess’ scrolled across the bottom immediately caught my eye.
My lips twitched up into a grin. “Who did that?” It was like someone had attempted to make my likeness into a very realistic version of a comic book character. To say I was pleased was an understatement.
“I’m not sure, but obviously you have a fan. How do you feel about that? Do you like the idea of having fans?”
I shrugged, still staring at the masterpiece. I wished I could be that woman in the painting. Her eyes were cold and untroubled. She was not the same person who met my gaze in the mirror every day. “So where did you get it if you don’t know who did it?”
“Found it in some of the mail that’s been arriving for you.”
My gaze flicked up to meet Jonah’s at that. “You were going through that crap? Of course, now you’re making me rethink my choice to not accept any of it.”
“Why don’t you want any of it?” Jonah carefully rolled up the painting and deposited it back in a mailing tube.
“I read a few when it first starting coming in, mostly because I was bored. And let me just say...eeeewww. Did you know one guy sent me his pubes? His fucking pubes. Another guy sent a dick pic.” I shuddered at the disgusting memory. Some things just cannot be un-seen. “I think you stumbled on a gem there, Doc. What are you going to do with it?”
“Why, do you want it?”
I nibbled my bottom lip. “Nah, what am I really going to do with it? You never said why you were going through that crap. So why, Doc?”
Jonah reclined in his chair, his wide shoulders stretching his suit to the limit. “Mostly curiosity. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t enjoy what I do. I like looking into people’s minds. Looking through mail like that gives me a unique experience I won’t get again. Most serial killers are men, with you—”
“I’m not a serial killer.” I ground my teeth together. “At least not one in the traditional sense.”
“A serial killer is defined as someone who kills three or more people, with the murders taking place over a month and including a cooling off period between the murders.” Jonah raised his eyebrows. “You are a serial killer.”
I stood, anger infusing my system. “No, I’m not. I didn’t enjoy killing any of those people. I did it for a purpose. I told you that already. I did it to make this country a better place. I killed because I’m a patriot. Would you call a soldier a serial killer?” My pulse raced and my chest heaved as I stared down Jonah. He eyed me speculatively.
“You may not consider yourself a serial killer, but the rest of the world does.”
“So this is the game we’re going to play today?” I forced my body into submission and sat back down on the couch. “I liked yesterday’s better.”
It hadn’t gone unnoticed
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