The Evil Within

BZZZZT!!!

The electric buzzer rang as the heavy metal door was opened for me. I took a deep breath. In front of me, was a corridor, surrounded by the cells of hundreds, if not thousands of the worst criminals in the country. Slowly, I walked into the corridor. Although there were two guards escorting me, I still felt cautious. After all, you never know what could happen in this kind of place.

"So Doc, what brings you to this kind of place? Doesn't exactly look like you're here to visit one of these scumbags."

One of the guards that was escorting me suddenly spoke to me. I turned to look at him. A man whose age have probably surpassed 40, he seems like he's actually excited to be escorting me. I guess that there isn't much going on around this place.

"I'm just here to have some interviews. Our Centre of Psychoanalysis feels that if we can get a grasp of how criminals think, we might be able to help the police in their investigations."

"Wow, that sounds like some incredible stuff, doc! So in the future, we might be able to reduce the amount of crimes?"

"I can't say for sure, but we sure hope to do so. Anyway, where are we heading?"

"Oh, just the Warden's office. You gotta meet up with him first before you can do anything here, y'know".

------------------------------------------------15 minutes later ------------------------------------------

Well, the meeting with the Warden went about as well as water mixes with oil. I guess I can't blame him. He's had to deal with these prisoners his whole life, and it doesn't help that he thinks that their scum that cannot be saved. To him, my visit here is a waste of time and money. No matter, he's not the one that is funding it anyway.

As I sat on the bench outside of the Warden's office, George walked up to me from the corridor. Turns out he volunteered to be my guide throughout the visit. Guess he needs the excitement.

"So, who are you gonna be interviewing?"

I shuffle through my files, and looked at the profile I was given.

"Hmm...one Mr Max Campbell."

"Aaaah good ol' Max. He's over at B-wing. Come on, we have quite some ground to cover."

As we walked, I overheard some of the prisoners talking amongst themselves.

"Hey, have you heard? There's a new guy in town. Real piece of work, that one."

"No, not really. Why? What'd he do?"

I couldn't hear the rest of it, so I asked George about it. He shook his head as he told me,

"They're talking about Mitch Stanson. That man is a monster. Killed 10 innocent people, possibly more. About a quarter of the missing people in the state has his signature written all over it, but we don't have anything on him."

George sighed.

"And they're moving him here now. I guess the other prisons didn't want to take such a dangerous man in. He looks more like a lion than a man."

Right as we were talking, I overheard a commotion coming in from the front. A huge man was being escorted by 5 or 6 guards. They were walking very cautiously, shouting at whoever was in front of them to make way. As our paths was about to cross, I felt a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't move. George tapped me on the shoulder.

"Yeah, he does that to people. Pure intimidation. But you'll get used to it soon enough."

I slowly regained my composure, and continued walking with George. While walking, again I heard people talking about Mitch Stanson. I guess when a guy with that high of a profile comes, tongues start to wag.

"You know which cell he's gonna be in?"

"Surprisingly, not solitary. I heard from one of the guards that he's gonna be in D-4."

"Shit, Max's cell?"

"Yeah...poor guy."

I was intrigued. So the guy I was supposed to be interviewing is gonna be the cellmate of this notorious killer? Things might get rough.

----------------------------------------------------20 minutes later------------------------------------------

I stepped into the room prepared for my interviews. 2 armed guards, closed-circuit cameras, and to top it all off, I'm separated from the prisoner via  a 2-inch reinforced glass. We just have phones and a desk on each side to let us talk.

The man on the other side of the glass seems oddly calm. He greeted me with a smile, and eagerly picked up his phone. I then picked up mine.

"Good morning, doctor."

"Good morning, Mr. Max. I trust you know why I'm here?"

"Yeah, to talk about why I did it, right? I'm afraid it's going to be a rather long story, though. You up for it?"

"At this point, I'm up for anything."

He chuckled, and started telling his story. He told me about how he was always ignored by his peers, even family. No matter what he did, no one paid any attention to him, it was like he was invisible. 

"So, when my supervisor at office just asked me to stay back while he treated the rest of our team to lunch, I couldn't take it anymore. I took the nearest letter opener, and stabbed him with all my strength. It wasn't until moments later that I realized what I had done.

Thinking back, I guess you could say that I was lashing out at the world for ignoring me. Well, they saw me for a while when I was in the news. But now, they've forgotten me again. The only attention I'm getting now is that I'm the cellmate of 'Lion King' Mitch.

I guess things don't change that easily."

Max stared down at the desk with a remorseful look at his face. I felt sorry for the guy. I wanted to say something to make him feel better. But before I could say anything, I remembered what my senior told me before,

"Never get personally involved in any of the cases. That would come back to bite your ass."

I ended our call, and went back to my place. I wanted to avoid thinking about the interview. I went straight to bed.

-----------------------------------------------------1 week later------------------------------------------

It's now been a week since I started on my assignment in Raven Penitentiary. Max has been a...rather unexpected subject. The people at the Centre wanted to start at someone mild, someone who isn't as hardened as the others. Well, Max fits the bill just fine. 

Over the course of our interviews, I found out that he's really quite a nice guy. We even joked and talked about sports, and especially about food. Max said that if he ever got into the kitchen section, he could make food 10 times better than the current ones. I jokingly said that if he ever got into the kitchen, prepare my favorites, bacon and sausages.

He even got along with George. The three of us would sit down and have a nice chat together at the cafeteria from time to time. Max once asked George if it was possible for him to move cells. Apparently Mitch was a bit too much to bear. He would regularly threaten Max, and tell him horror stories of his crimes. George wanted to help, but it just wasn't up to him to decide that.




I continued with the interviews with Max. Eventually, it kind of blurred into informal conversation, and even just chatting between the two of us. He might have commited a murder, but he's someone that I would consider as a friend.

--------------------------------------------------1 week later------------------------------------------

It's finally the end of my term here. George was kinda sad that I had to leave. He's lonely here, he says. No real friends around. All the guards just minds their own business. As a kind of farewell gift, he somehow managed to convince the Warden to have a special meal thrown for the entire prison.

All of the prisoners were to eat ham and eggs for that lunch. It was a real treat for the prisoners, who survived on some rather meager meals during their stay. It was also great publicity for the Warden, whose reputation was starting to take a fall due to reports about poor living conditions for the prisoners.

I saw Max helping out in the kitchen, with a smile on his face. I guess he just wanted a place to belong.All of us lined up to get our food. Mitch half-threatened Max to give him double the portion. Terrified, Max just went along.

When it was my turn, Max surprised me by giving me bacon and sausage instead.

"I snuck these in with the help of some of the kitchen guys," he said with a grin.

I ate with George and the Warden as we talked about my interviews. Strangely, the Warden was eating ham and eggs as well. Guess he wanted to show that he's equal with the prisoners to the reporters. Bunch of bullshit.

"So I was turning back on the driveway right-"

George stopped talking halfway. He clenched his stomach. His face turned pale.

"George! What's going on?!"

He collapsed onto the floor, along with the Warden. I rushed over to his side. He was foaming from the mouth. He convulsed and shook violently. Terrified, I rushed out of the office to look for help. Cold sweat was rushing from my brows.

When I reached the prison cafeteria, what I saw shocked me. The entire cafeteria was filled with prisoners who were convulsing on the floor. I went as quick as I could down the stairs towards them. Never have I cursed my lack of speed when going down stairs before.

All of them had the same symptoms as George and the Warden. I saw Mitch trying to get up, but was having difficulties. I ran over to his side, and tried to help him up, but he knocked my hand away.

"T...he...twerp..."

He pointed towards the main cafeteria doors. Of course! I could get help outside! There has to be SOMEONE that can help. And maybe I can get some reception too. I ignored his warning of a 'twerp', and dashed towards the main door. I flungh them open with all my strength.

Outside, as if waiting for me, stood...Max. He flashed a grin, and spoke calmly.

"Good day, doctor! How was your lunch?"

I went towards him, and grabbed hold of him.

"Max! Max! Things are going crazy in there! People are dying, Max! We have to get help!"

"Help? You want to ask for help?!"

He slapped my hand away.

"Go ahead! Go ask for help! But know this! By the time they arrive, the people in this entire complex will be dead!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was this the same man? The remorseful man who secretly gave me bacon and sausages?

Max grinned. His eyes were full of malice. He raised his hands up in the air, and stared into the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? My plan, after all this time of waiting, finally came to fruition! You have no idea how hard I had to beg the guards to bring in some rat poison. It was even harder to convince the kitchen guys to let me in. But when I managed to get in, the rest was easy...so easy."

"But...why am I alive?"

Max shook his head slowly.

"You don't get it, do you? I SPARED you! I purposely gave you different food, so that you wouldn't eat the poison. It was in the ham, if you want to know. Kinda easy to disguise it was some sort of spice."

"But why? Why me?!"

"So that you can spread the word!"

I was taken aback by what he said.

"Yes, spread this across the world! I want the world to know about me. Me! Max Campbell! Me! Mr Nobody! I, not 'Lion King', not anybody else, managed to kill everyone in the prison! Me! Little old me!"

At that point, I finally understood. This was his way of getting what he wanted the most : attention. The world would go crazy over this piece of news. They might even give him some book or movie deals. He would get all the publicity he could ever get in his entire life.

-----------------------------------------------1 month later------------------------------------------

It's been a month since the incident at Raven Penitentiary. I took a long leave after I came back. The police got hold of Max. Well, he wanted them to. As he predicted, by the time help arrived, it was too late for everyone in the prison. Mitch died especially painfully, due to the double dosage of poison. In my report to the Centre, I told them that all the interviews in the world would not help us understand them better.

They asked me why. This is what I said to them :

"No matter how well you think you know someone. No matter how good they appear on the outside. There is no one out there on Earth, nor are there any methods available, that can accurately measure the evil within a person."