Silent Scream

Twenty

There is something within her that compels me.

She is surrounded by activity; sirens, vehicles, movement, and yet my eyes never leave her. She stands out from the crowd. A three-dimensional image in a two-dimensional film.

There is unruly energy within her. Like a demon driving her on. It is dark and it intrigues me. Even amongst the crowd, she is alone. Even when she's still, she moves. A hand clench or a foot tap keeps in time with a brain that never rests.

Although I've never seen her before, I know her. I know her intelligence, her restlessness and that natural suspicion in her gaze. She has a sense that is hidden from most. It is indefinable and without name but it is attuned to everything around her. And I've seen it before.

Aaah, Caitlin. Dear sweet adorable Caitlin ...

All too soon, she is gone. A film without its star. My interest wanes but I remain where I am, lost momentarily in my thoughts.

What came first, the chicken or the egg? It is a question I have asked myself often. Did I feel nothing when my mother rejected me, or did she reject me because I felt nothing?

It is a question pored over by many a scholar. Is a psychopath born or made? They have no answer and neither do I.

There was a time when I battled against it, fought it, even tried to understand it but that was a long time ago.

My journey began with a fish. Just an ordinary anonymous goldfish won at a travelling fair by my father. I carried it home. It lived in a bowl for two days and then died.

My sister was inconsolable. I was not. She mourned its loss but I felt nothing. I wanted what she had. I wanted her pain, I wanted her grief. I wanted to feel.

Next came the kitten. Its fur was soft and warm. It was supposed to be ours but it loved her more. It didn't really struggle as I covered its mouth. And after its last breath I waited but still nothing came upon me.

The children at school all had puppies and I wanted one too. But this pet would be all mine. I fed it, I walked it and it lived in my room. This time I was hopeful but the snap of its neck did not pain me. It only fuelled my curiosity. My need to know how far I could go.

The death of three animals brought an embargo on pets. This limited my options for further research and then I realised that the ultimate test had been before me all the time.

Everyone said she was cute; adorable, angelic, perfect. So that was my goal. I knew that she would not come to the pond without tempting. There was a look in her eye. She saw things that others did not.

So I told her there were bunnies; a mummy and her babies. I pointed to the bush, right on the edge. She peered inside. Her back was towards me. I pushed her face down and straddled her neck. She coughed and she spluttered and then she lay still.

Oh, Caitlin, Caitlin, Caitlin. You gave me a gift.

As I dismounted her small body, I finally had all the answers. My condition was not a curse, but a blessing. The sacrifice of my sister finally set me free. Since that day I have been liberated to take what I want and destroy what I don't, without the restraints of guilt or remorse.

Like a missing limb, compassion is simply not there. It cannot be replaced or transplanted and nor would I wish it. It is a shackle that binds lesser mortals to morality and an ethical code. But I have no code to follow.

So, what came first, the chicken or the egg? The answer is, I couldn't care less.

As the sound of the motorbike fades, I turn and walk away.

She would be a worthy adversary.

She will make discoveries along the way which will lead her exactly where I want her to go.

She will uncover secrets of Crestwood but she will never uncover mine.