indifference
It was like what she knew of the Killing Room.
Taris could only see him through the glass. He couldn't see her, & she wasn't skilled & powerful enough yet to do anything on her own without human assistance.
But she knew his mind.
Mirrors were both delightfully entertaining when she watched Aggie & Rails, and deplorably horrifying, as when she watched this monster.
He was an average-looking man. He was the American Dream, the psychopath who always got away with it, Ted Bundy without the Death Wish.
The normal, average suburban neighbour who couldn't possibly have done what this man was about to do.
What he had done before.
Again and again.
She loved love, this goddess-in-training, so young at 35 cycles.
She had wept for joy when Aggie & Rails had finally felt each other.
She thought Suzanne's love for Cyrus was the greatest story ever told.
She sought inspiration & advice from Chuck & Margie when she could.
She thought Suzanne's new-found love with Leon was delightful.
She knew who would die in 87 minutes at the hands of the man before her.
And there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
As the monster had tracked his victim, she had visited his mind, heard the parts he himself could not hear.
Plausible. All of it. An infinite number of plausible reasons for taking human lives.
Like the country he came from, the man was about wielding indifference as a form of supreme, judgemental arrogance.
He did things simply because he could, and because a substantially high percentage of his countrymen did indeed admire his ruthless power.
Unless, of course, he used it on someone in their own families.
That provoked righteous indignation.
Taris knew someone did, indeed, kill Jon-Benet Ramsey.
She even knew who.
It just didn't matter any more that anyone knew.
Taris had been behind the washroom mirror when the girl had come in, part of a group.
"Navica". Odd name.
She had to wade through the horde's joyous babbling to correctly identify the object of this night's transgressions.
She couldn't see anything special about her. The girl was infatuated with a boy in her class, she seemed at once happily post-pubescent and disaffected. Her haircut was a cheap imitation of the latest fad. She expressed a desire for sex with the boy if it was determined he wasn't infected. Until then, Navica had the girlfriend.
Lucky Navica.
Suddenly it was as if Navica could see back through the mirror, straight into Taris' eyes. Taris saw the clouds of Tweener Hell in the girl's thoughts. For an instant, she sensed a kind of perpetual anxiety in this girl who would never be a woman.
This girl who thought she knew it all was never sure of anything.
Taris stopped her reflections on Navica and looked at the monster through the mirror again.
That's when she saw it.
The Tell.
Something simple, her mortal friend had said had said. Tells were often almost insignificant.
Tiny revelations of terrible truths.
A small smile crept across Taris' face as she watched him out of sight from behind her mirror.
Taris Sajel Sorrel had found the monster's hole.
Taris could only see him through the glass. He couldn't see her, & she wasn't skilled & powerful enough yet to do anything on her own without human assistance.
But she knew his mind.
Mirrors were both delightfully entertaining when she watched Aggie & Rails, and deplorably horrifying, as when she watched this monster.
He was an average-looking man. He was the American Dream, the psychopath who always got away with it, Ted Bundy without the Death Wish.
The normal, average suburban neighbour who couldn't possibly have done what this man was about to do.
What he had done before.
Again and again.
She loved love, this goddess-in-training, so young at 35 cycles.
She had wept for joy when Aggie & Rails had finally felt each other.
She thought Suzanne's love for Cyrus was the greatest story ever told.
She sought inspiration & advice from Chuck & Margie when she could.
She thought Suzanne's new-found love with Leon was delightful.
She knew who would die in 87 minutes at the hands of the man before her.
And there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
As the monster had tracked his victim, she had visited his mind, heard the parts he himself could not hear.
Plausible. All of it. An infinite number of plausible reasons for taking human lives.
Like the country he came from, the man was about wielding indifference as a form of supreme, judgemental arrogance.
He did things simply because he could, and because a substantially high percentage of his countrymen did indeed admire his ruthless power.
Unless, of course, he used it on someone in their own families.
That provoked righteous indignation.
Taris knew someone did, indeed, kill Jon-Benet Ramsey.
She even knew who.
It just didn't matter any more that anyone knew.
Taris had been behind the washroom mirror when the girl had come in, part of a group.
"Navica". Odd name.
She had to wade through the horde's joyous babbling to correctly identify the object of this night's transgressions.
She couldn't see anything special about her. The girl was infatuated with a boy in her class, she seemed at once happily post-pubescent and disaffected. Her haircut was a cheap imitation of the latest fad. She expressed a desire for sex with the boy if it was determined he wasn't infected. Until then, Navica had the girlfriend.
Lucky Navica.
Suddenly it was as if Navica could see back through the mirror, straight into Taris' eyes. Taris saw the clouds of Tweener Hell in the girl's thoughts. For an instant, she sensed a kind of perpetual anxiety in this girl who would never be a woman.
This girl who thought she knew it all was never sure of anything.
Taris stopped her reflections on Navica and looked at the monster through the mirror again.
That's when she saw it.
The Tell.
Something simple, her mortal friend had said had said. Tells were often almost insignificant.
Tiny revelations of terrible truths.
A small smile crept across Taris' face as she watched him out of sight from behind her mirror.
Taris Sajel Sorrel had found the monster's hole.
