by Katy Rose
“That is what made this all a little hard to believe. Why? Why would you sell children?” I want to know his motive. I feel like I already know what he will say, but I still ask.
“Why? Well, for one thing, the money and also because I was able to sample the product a few times before selling …” My fist makes contact with his face before he finishes that statement. The chair he is in rocks a few times and then falls over. His head bounces off the concrete like one of those twenty-five cent bouncy balls, but it isn’t enough.
I pound on him and go to hit him again when Kora catches my arm. “Kaleb let's play the game. You can spin first.”
Smirking I back up and pull the sheet off the wheel. Showing our contestants what they are playing for. I watch Walker and the guards' eyes grow rounder as they read the slots. Smirking I grab one of the spokes and spin. The wheel goes around and around, landing on fingernails. The smile I send to Walker is predatory and positively evil. I walk over to the tools I have laid out. Picking up the pliers and thumbscrew, I walk back over to Walker’s chair.
“Wanna give me a hand?” I ask with an air of sarcasm.
“Eat shit,” Walker growls at me before trying to spit in my face. It falls short and hits my shoes. That son of a bitch. These are Armani.
“You will bleed where you just spit.” I hiss as I grab his right hand and pry his fingers open. Closing them in the thumbscrew I take the pliers and rip his fingernails off of his right hand one by one. I go as slowly as I possibly can. The pressure from my hand makes my palm sweaty and the pliers slippery. Blood pools slowly to the surface before sliding down to the floor onto my shoe. Looking at Walker’s face, I wink and smile. Exactly fucker. Right where you spit.
“Kora, it is your turn.” I step back and watch her spin the wheel. After a few rounds, it ends on water. She goes over to one of the guards and does a roundhouse kick to the chest. The guard falls to the floor cracking his head open. Blood leaks out in a small stream onto the concrete. His muffled moans the only sound. Getting a bottle of water, she stands above him and pours it down on his face, she goes slowly as well. Enjoying the choking and sniffing sound he makes. When one bottle is done, she opens another and pours it on his face as well. After six bottles he is gasping for air and whimpering loudly.
“What's the matter? You don’t like it when people force things on you?” Slapping his cheek, she sits his chair back upright and watches as I spin the wheel again.
The wheel spins around and around and finally lands on darts. I grab four metal darts and hand two of them to Kora. “You be red. I will be black. Best shot wins the next spin. Ladies first.”
“Deal! Hey, who are you calling a lady, jackass!” Kora takes her two darts and stands back as I throw my darts at the contestants. One hits a guard in the chest. It sticks out of his chest, and the blood blooms like a flower in his shirt before it pools around the dart and drips down to his pants.
I throw my first dart and hit Walker in the balls, based on his loud gasp and cursing that had to hurt a bit. It made me wince before turning to Kora, with a raised a brow and smile. “Beat that!”
“Hmmm. Well, that has to hurt, okay. I think I can.” She takes a deep breath and lines up her target. Throwing her second dart, she pegs the guard who was waterboarded in the eye. The dart stands straight out from his eye socket. Going over to the guard, she takes hold of the dart and attempts to move it, but it must be lodged into the retina fairly deep because it refuses to come out.
“Fuck, Kora! That is really keeping your eye on things.” I say as I throw my next dart and it hits the other guard in the thigh. It is embedded and sticking up. A small number of blood pools around the dart. Damn, that won’t beat her at all. “I guess you win that round. Want to play best two out of three?”
“Yes, but don’t forget, I won an extra spin!” We go to collect our darts and Kora tugs at the one in the guard's eye. When she doesn’t seem to move it, she wiggles it around and then tugs again, pulling the entire eyeball out on the end of the dart. The eyeball is gooey and red with blood, but it is the eye socket that gives me pause. Gross. It is empty with a trickle of thick red blood sliding down his face. The screams from the guard are breaking every sound frequency. Gigging I tell her, “Well shit. You ruined the game.”
Kora spins the wheel and lands on the cattle prod. She turns it on and spins the dial. Deciding to go after Walker. When she touches his leg with the prod, it makes him jump but not enough — turning the dial up to eight hundred volts, she chooses his neck. Ramming the cattle prod into his jugular, we watch as he seizes. His whole body tightens up before shaking violently with the electricity running through him. He screams out a series of profanities as blood foams out of his mouth.
“That was electrifying. Spin again.” I watch her skip to the wheel and spin it yet again. This time it lands on the knife symbol. Kora heads over to the table of knives and selects her choice of weapon. Heading over to the first guard.
She bends down to him and asks quietly. “Are you sorry for your role in this child trafficking business?” He nods and begs her to spare him. Shaking her head, she tuts him. “I am sorry, but you never spared any of those girls and kids. So, I won’t spare you; what I will do is have mercy on you. If you pray, now is the time.” She gives him a moment before leaning in and stabbing him in the neck right under his left ear and slicing his neck from one ear to the other in a sickening ripping sound. His head rolls back and exposes the meat of his throat. Blood splatters out onto Kora and Walker. Blood runs down his face as he stares at her wide-eyed.
Spinning the wheel, I land on the fire icon. Pulling guard number two over a little, I pull out a fire starter bottle and spray him down with the accelerant. Lighting a cigarette, I stare at him smoking. I look down at my old Zippo and light it, coming within mere feet of him. I flick it shut. I tease him a few times before finally throwing the lighter on him. His entire body erupts in flames. His face is twisted in agony as the fire eats away his flesh and muscle. He tries to move, to get away, but it is too late. Heading over to the kill bag and pull out two hotdog forks, some crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows. Walking back over, I put two marshmallows on the sticks and stand back far enough so that I don’t singe off my arm hair.
When I am done, I hand a completed one to Kora. “S’more?”
“Thanks” Looking between me and the burning man Kora tilts her head and holds up a finger. “Ah, Kaleb. What was he tied down with again?”
“Rope, why?” Following her pointed finger, I see the guard is up and Freaking out while still trying to escape. “Fuck me. I forgot. Good looking out.” Pulling my gun out, I shoot the guard and watch him fall. After I finish the S' more, I grab a fire extinguisher and put the guard out.
“Is it your turn again?” I ask Kora.
“Yeah, but I am changing the music is enough to set you on a killing spree. Oh, wait.” We both crack up as she scrolls through the music on my phone. Finding a song, she turns up the volume and begins bouncing around. “I didn’t know you liked Bailor.”
“Eh, when you went through that phase I downloaded some so that I knew what you were listening too.”
“You are too overprotective Kaleb.” Kora laughs. "You really need to lighten the fuck up. You never know when someone is going to fall in love with your smile." Kora squishes my face, and I glare at her harder.
"Feel bad for the person who is stupid enough to think I have love in me. A love of murder, yes. Puppies and flowers and chocolate hearts make me squeamish." I grit out.
"Yeah, well nothing says romance like ripping someone’s heart out. Maybe you will start a new trend. Whoa, you could solve the whole overpopulation thing with that."
"Are you high?" Leaning in, I sniff her.
Smacking me she laughs, "Not the point, now stop frowning. You don't want to have wrinkles in your mugshot.” I shake my head and go back to the wheel. Spinning it, I land on the question mark. “Ooooh. Looks like we get to choose what we want t
o do.”
“What do you want to do?” Kora asks.
“I think we should bleed him out. Slowly.” I say. Kora wrinkles her nose before shrugging. I get a set of brass knuckles and punch Walker in the face. Blood spurts out of the small cuts in his face harder and faster than the other wounds. Then, punching his body, I cut holes into his abdomen and legs. Blood splatters all over my shirt and down the side of my face. Every hit is met with pleading. I show him as much mercy as he showed those kids and all his victims. None. After I land the last and fatal blow to Walker’s temple, I look up and let out a sigh of relief. It was done. His face and body look like hamburger or a steak that has been tenderized.
The warehouse doors burst open, and federal agents swarm through. Busting in the Windows guns drawn. Kora and I put our hands up. “Get on the ground! Now!”
Lowering my hands down, I look up into familiar brown eyes of Agent Carter. His stare is hard, and his voice loud when he yells, “Get on the ground now!”
Following directions, I move slower than Kora. As my hand passes by my holster, I feel a hard pressure in my chest, and my body drops. Warm liquid rushes down my chest. The ground rushes up to meet my face. I see red looking around me as I search out matching blue eyes to my own. Tipping my lips, I pop the pill that was in my hand and wink at her — watching as tears roll down her cheeks freely.
“Oh my god, you killed him! Kaleb!” That is the last thing I hear before my world goes black.
Four days later, Monday, December 17th
“Please state your name for the court.” The prosecuting lawyer commands.
Leaning forward I softly say, “Kora Antoinette Volpe.” I keep my eyes down and attempt to look demure and sweet. Like my defense attorney told me. Kaleb had placed his manifesto on the table next to the wheel before he killed Walker and taken the blame for every single death. He confessed, and he wrote that I was forced into going along with his plans. He states with explicitly that I am missing some of my minds. The defense attorney that Babbino hired believes he can get me off using the criminally insane defense.
A mission killer. That is what the defense attorney labeled him. A killer who feels they are asked by God to cleanse the earth of a specific evil. I guess it isn’t far off. I don’t tell anyone that, though. I don’t speak anymore unless spoken directly to. I keep my head down and attempt to appear as nonthreatening as possible. This is the role of a lifetime, my lifetime. I hope they buy it.
“Do you know what day it is Kora?” Shaking my head, no, I look up at the jury. They are lasered in on my every move and facial expression.
“No, no mam. I do not.” I answer quietly.
“What was your involvement in the murder of the thirty victims your brother had?” She asks.
“Objection! It was spelled out in the letter Kaleb left. She was there because he made her.” My defense attorney shouts.
“I will allow it. We are here today to determine whether your client is suitable to go to prison or if she should be in an institution, Mr. McElroy.
“I was to keep a lookout. Kaleb never meant to hurt anyone. The first time he killed, when he liked Drake, he didn't mean to. He was trying to get Drake off me. He was raping me. Then when he went through Drake’s phone and found a number, one thing leads to another. He was the best brother. I …. I … I’m sorry.” I pull the tissue up to my eyes, and while I'm drying my eyes, I pull a nose hair. My eyes instantly water. And I look up at the jury and then the judge while the tears are looking. “He was trying to get the bad guys.”
“Did your brother hold a gun to your head and physically make you shoot Trent? Did he do that with Preston Walker? How about Lucas or any of the other boys? What about the entire Carmichael family? Professor Elliot? I think, and evidence seems to be behind me that you were just as involved as he was. You not only participated in the murder of thirty people, including peers and professors, but you enjoyed it. Isn’t that right Ms. Volpe?” The prosecutor gives me a stern look. Her voice is as cold and hard as ice. She is trying to break me, but the poor thing has no clue who she is dealing with.
“Objection! Your honor, Prosecution is completely out of line. None of the evidence gathered by any of the detectives remotely shows Kora Volpe as anything but a victim of circumstance. Her brother is the criminal mastermind and to try and take the people's fear and need for someone to blame on this poor girl is disrespectful at best.” Mr. McElroy thunders as he stands up. The man is a great defense attorney. The money must be worth him fighting so hard for me.
“He is right, Ms. Lawrence. Sustained.” The judge’s gavel slams down once to accentuate her point.
Quietly I speak into the microphone, “Have you ever been drugged and raped Ms. Lawrence? Have you ever been sold in a child slave auction or witnessed other children being groomed for it? Have you ever seen children being held against their will and dressed like miniature sex dolls?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with anything. I am not the one on trial for murder.” Ms. Lawrence sneers at me, but I can tell by her down cast expression I am getting to her.
“It has to do with why the victims, as you call them, were chosen. My brother had never been in a massive fight, never harmed anyone too badly until the night he walked into my room and found one of his teammates and supposed friend raping me. Drake Taylor wasn’t as good of a guy as you want to believe he was. Professor Elliot, Diego, and the list goes on; none of them were innocent victims. They had done unspeakable things and knowing the system their money would get them off. That is why my brother killed them, and that is why I feel no remorse for any of them dying.” I pause to take a drink of my water and notice how quiet the courtroom is. You could hear a pin drop.
“You feel no remorse Kora?” the judge asks me. I look quickly over to Babbino and see him nod slowly. Looking back at the judge, I shake my head no.
“No. Child pedophiles, human trafficking, and rape gangs are all the most despicable people there are on this planet. Even if I could change things, I wouldn’t. Those men, and Connie, they got what they deserved. Pedophiles cannot be rehabilitated; they deserve to be put down for hurting a child; the same as a dog is when it bites a child. A dog bite makes you scared of a dog, but what a pedophile does, how do you live with being terrified of fellow humans?” I blink at the judge and then look to the jury.
“Thank you, Kora, you may have a seat. Next, the prosecution calls Doctor Liza Carmine.” A tall brunette who I had talked to on Saturday following my brother's funeral gets up from the back of the courtroom and makes her way forward. After she is sworn in, she looks at me and smiles a small smile. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. The prosecution stands up and makes a show of going through the entire “test” I had completed. She then asks for Dr. Carmine's professional opinion.
“I find Kora rather intelligent and very artistic. She has a habit of spacing out for hours on end while she does her artwork. She isn’t a terribly violent individual. I feel as if provocation occurs, she can turn violent. She seems to have a way of turning her humanity off and disconnecting from her actions. Kora is a follower, not a leader.
She was guided by her brother into what we call “This type of serial killer feels a “need” or duty to kill certain types of people or “class” of people such as religious or racial groups or prostitutes. This type of serial killer is not considered psychotic. However, they are most definitely “normal.” I feel as even though she wasn’t the mastermind, she is definitely harmful.”
“No other questions your honor.” The prosecutor says before sitting down. My attorney looks up at me before declining his turn to cross-examine. The judge calls a short recess before the closing statements, and we file out into the hall. There are cameras and reporters all over the hallway. I keep my head down and stay silent. After a hug from Babbino and some words of encouragement, we make our way back in the courtroom. I prepare myself for the worst.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the fate of Ko
ra Volpe is in your hands. Do you find her fit to stand trial, or is she damaged beyond measure? Was she herself a victim of her brother and his horrible deeds? Or, most likely was she the accomplice of one of today’s most notorious serial killers?” Ms. Lawrence leans in and looks at each of the jurors. She is very good at her job; too bad my lawyer is better at his.
I watch Ms. Lawrence as Mr. McElroy makes his way up in front of the juror box. She sits there, staring at my defense attorney before looking over at me. I continue to stare; I might as well play up the crazy card my father and brother have laid out for me. Ms. Lawrence adjusts her glasses while she continues to stare unabashedly at me, and then as she turns back to the jury, she winks at me. What the actual fuck? I turn and look at Babbino, but he is staring at the jury. I am left feeling adrift in a sea of confusion. Damn, I wish I had my sketch pad. I grab the yellow legal pad next to me and let my hand move around as I watch my attorney.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, like the prosecution, has so readily stated, Kora Volpe is not fit to stand trial. The state has failed to show you proof that contradicts the very proof laid out by my team that Ms. Volpe is a danger to herself and others. Not only is she a danger, but as she herself stated if given the chance, she will kill again. I beseech you to really think about putting her in the general population with criminals she will find to quote her “disgusting and lacking human worth” or placing her in Grand Oaks State Hospital. I know you will come back and make the best possible decision that you can.”
Mr. McElroy comes over and sits at our table. Patting my hand, he draws my attention downward to my sketch. Black eyes and a snarling snout stare back at me from the yellow paper. The jury files out, and the judge gets a note from the jury within twenty minutes, they are ready with a verdict. I watch as the jurors file in and stare at me one by one. The judge calls out “Madame Foreperson, what say you?”