He is crazy.
Its one of the secrets he’s keeping from himself though; the voices don’t talk all the time, and even when one does he can still do his job as a cop. He knows he’s not really crazy. The voices would sometimes talk to him, sometimes he would be so caught up in what they tell him that time would pass without any awareness of what those moments consisted of; he was just a little distracted, that’s all.
Time would pass for a while without the headaches or voices,
but both things always came back and he went on with his life as
always regardless of the pain, or voices talking that weren’t really
real; when this happened at some point Franklin would go on a
long ride to relieve his headache.
(We all know your secret you hide from yourself.)
(There are no headaches.)
(You’re just sick in the head!)
(You want something you won’t allow yourself to have as you
(You made up a way to have it as someone else, its not you its
them; that’s what you tell yourself.)
(But you know!)
Franklin shook his head in silent denial at such thoughts and drove on.
All he really knew right now is he’s hungry, and for the rest of
the night until he got home that’s all he could think about.
There’s not anything special about the way drunk’s and homeless
people were popping up dead all over the state of New York.
Just about all of these could be (and often were) contributed to
accidents, most of them weren’t though; a lot of these deaths were just a case of good old fashion murders.
Not only do the police not have any clues that murders are the
cause of these deaths, they don’t even have an idea how long its
been going on.
All year long, year after year; cars hit ‘em, some fall down stairs, off buildings, into the river, have stupid fights, get lost in the woods; you name it, they just turn up dead a lot.
Shit happens, but a good 70% of these drunk’s and homeless
peoples deaths weren’t accidents, they’re the results of a lot of
good old fashion murdering.
Someone’s been having a killing good time!
No one saw any kind of a pattern at first, cops tell you a lot of
bad guy’s get caught off of tips, and it true, that’s how it is about
this, it’s been pointed out to them, and even then they found it hard to swallow.
The police figure if you ‘re homeless or get drunk for a living a
lot of shit happens to you, “shit happens” is what they call it, and
coming up dead is more likely to happen (by their way of looking
at it) as not.
No one had to tip anyone off about the Angle of death making
its rounds in more then a few hospitals all over New York, the
killer even “had favorite ones” one such place was named “Murder General”; you don’t want to go there even if you got a life
threatening injury and you’re right outside their doors; if you can
“tell someone to take you somewhere else” because even if they
can save your life you can get your plug pulled quick up in there!
Serial killers were at an all time high in the state of New York , and any hint of an idea that one man may be totally responsible for it was immediately dismissed in any case.
Such a person would kill so smoothly and casually that most
people wouldn’t know what they’re looking at a good 90% of the
time, and the other 10% that could tell what they’re looking at had
the killer to worry about now because the killer is smart about what he does, he’d find out about you, and get you; he’s always coming for someone, killing’s his hobby.
Only cops move around like that on a daily bases, seems no one
wanted to think about that, but actually they’re been a few people
that did, all of them are good and dead by murder; he got all of
them, except me.
Franklin doesn’t have a clue about me yet, there’s no record of
my existence, and he has no knowledge of Karla’s either.
He’s a real piece of work; too many secrets though, I figured
him out, but the law enforcements profilers have no idea about
what they’re really up against, they got all of these different angles they’re working, but he has only one; killing!
His ass is mines though, he doesn’t know it yet; he has no idea
what he’s up against either.
There’s a new law in town; I’m the law.
Chapter.19 Death by murder.
At that moment, the real Betsy-Mae Jenkins’s about to discover
what smelled so bad in the closed down building around the corner from where she lived.
“Little “Bitty’s” what her friend’s call her; she’s 10 years old, and too curious for her own good.
This day she’s not alone, her best friends Crylee and Big Ben
are all about to make the same discovery; one that would change
they’re young lives forever.
The three children (partners in crime) played and waited for the
right moment to slip away.
They’d been doing this for some time now under the pretence
of playing hide-an-seek, but what they’re really doing is working
on a way into the closed down smelly building; they’d finally
If Little Bitty’s mother knew what the kids were up to at that
moment she wasn’t showing any sign of it as she entered the tricks car.
Her minds on what happened to a friend earlier that month.
Sara-Mae Jenkins didn’t think one of her old regulars is the
“killer trick” that got a hold ‘a all of those street girls, but at any
rate she felt more then capable of kicking his old ass if he even
thinks about doing anything funny with her.
Some of her tricks liked a good “beat-down” and she could really give them what they wanted real good, she a pretty big girl with a mean streak in her, but this one’s one of her best “five minute man;” he’s usually in it about four really, and pulling up his pants by five.
She felt no need to do more then call out to Bitty that she’s going around the corner to the store; be right back!
Little Bitty hadn’t heard a word her mother said as she slipped
around the side of the empty building, following her two friends
back to the opening Big Ben just made.
“You all better wait for me” it’s my idea and I want to go first!
Small though she may be; Little Bitty had the most heart of the
three children, and besides, Big Ben loved her dearly, he always let her have her way.
Not this time though; he didn’t like the way he felt about this place, or the way it smelled, it smelled worst then a whole pile of
dirty tennis shoes, “a really big pile if you ask me,” he told Bitty
when she came up with this bright idea.
He just didn’t like it, or any part of what they’re about to do, but he’d do almost anything for Little Bitty.
He wasn’t doing that though; (she wouldn’t go before him) Big
Ben paid her no mind as he pulled away the last board and
proceeded to disappear into the foul smelling building first.
The smell’s much worst now, and to top it off there’s this low
buzzing sound too, one like the sound you hear when insects fly
too close to your ears.
Big Ben backed up a few steps just as the others caught up with
him at the first door leading out of the room they all entered by.
Just ahead the door Ben reached out to open vibrated with a life
of its own, he touched the knob and snatched his hand away like it was hot.
The cause of the vibration, the bad smell, and the sound of the
buzzing is all coming from behind this door.
The three children were about to make a discovery that would
agonizingly end the life of one of them right then and there, and
later result in the death of a second one; and damaged the third for life.
Sara-Mae’s date had taken her around the corner all right, but it
wasn’t to any store.
They pulled into an ally behind a building, and as soon as the
car stopped the trick’s all over her.
His hands pulled at her cloths as he tried to lick everywhere he
saw skin; Sara-Mae slapped feebly at his assault upon her; then
said “Honey you can have what you want, but you need to pay
first, and get your ass in the backseat!”
As the two exited the car and reached for the back doors Sara-
Mae Jenkins had what some would consider a warning from the
At that moment she’s sure it’s her daughter she heard
screaming for her life!
It didn’t take long before all three children are screaming, it didn’t last long though; she was about to dismiss it as “they’re just
playing;” then she heard another scream, this one ended with a
coughing sound like the kid’s having a hard time breathing; she
knew this is the sound Bitty made whenever her asthma acted up.
The children couldn’t keep screaming because the content of the next room is enough to bring up everything they ate earlier.
They are all helplessly sick for a moment, and in that moment
they became the killer’s next victims.
Well maybe that’s not exactly true, it depends on how you look at it; a lot of people died that day, and he killed them all in my way of seeing it.
When the children entered the next room they had a hard time
seeing because of the light, which made it difficult to recognize the source of the buzzing sound, but it wasn’t long before they realized the room was filled with insects; yellow-jackets, bees, flies, ants; shit who knew what else or how many?
Several hives were located throughout the old closed down
building; yellow-jackets ruled, it was a quite time at “Joe’s-get all-u-can-eat” at least it was before the children gave up their dinner, all hell broke loose then; “shit, why eat cold leftovers when
Joe’s got it hot and fresh?”
The kids might have all got away with not much to show for it if not for Big Ben, he ran over the two girls like a drunk N.F.L. lineman in the cheerleaders shower; everyone slipped, and had a
hard time struggling free from each other in the mess they made at they’re feet.
Ben slowed them down, but they never really had a chance
once the door was opened; the inhabitant’s of the next room had a taste for freshness in their meals, they were nearly trained to expect that from what the killer brought into this room.
They never had a chance, Crylee was allergic to bee venom and
is already going into shock from the first hundred stings, poor
Little Bitty made it to her feet only to be ran over again by Ben;
this time breaking her wrist as Ben fell on her.
By the time she made it back to her feet again and looked
around, Crylee was a little twitching curled in a ball mound of greedy insects and rats lying on the floor; she’s already incapable
of any independent movement, all of the children tried screaming
whenever they could keep the insects out of they’re mouths long
enough to take a deep breath, and Big Ben’s a stumbling mountain of insects and rats.
Sara-Mae raced around the old building with her regular in hot
pursuit, the sound of the children screaming flashed images of pain and horror in her mind; what could be causing such a reaction in all three children she thought as one by one they’re screams ended,
her Bitty the last one she heard. Larry Mayweather didn’t hear that well, and he’s actually in pursuit of his last 20 bucks!
He told her when she took off running that he didn’t hear no
kids hollering; she’s the only one he heard hollering when he
caught up with her, so he hit her upside the head and said; “give
me back my damn money you crazy bitch!”
Then he heard it too.
“It’s coming from in this building” is the next thing he said, just
hold up and let me get some tools from the car; you need to get
someone to call 911!
Larry wasn’t any hero, all he really wanted is a little pussy,
(and to get the hell out of here), but Sara-Mae was more then just a date to him, over the years he’d come to like her a lot, and he’s no stranger to Little Bitty; he liked them both a lot.
He also had kids of his own even though they were all grown
up now and long gone from his world; Larry knew the pain of
Something took him over, for a moment he wasn’t a old man
full of doubts and uncertainties, his thoughts cleared and he knew
there wasn’t enough time to leave and return with tools to make a
way into the closed up building, it would be faster to find out where the kids got in and follow.
Dusk had fallen, bringing deepening shadows and sounds that
had Ole Larry’s head darting around like a chicken that smells a
fox, it’s become more difficult to see, he’s more then a little
scared; this is no place known for its outstanding “old white guys
welcome to the neighborhood policies” this is a part of the slums
of New York City; a place not meant for white people of any kind
after a certain time at night.
Finding where the kids entered the old building didn’t require
good sight that night, a blind person could have found it; you could follow the bad smell or the sound of angry insects coming from the window with the boards pulled off, and the pile of junk under it; things the kids put there to help them reach it.
Ole Larry sprang into action (in slow motion) his heart pounding so hard in his fragile chest that it nearly shook him lose of his frame.
He managed to get up and into the window without incidences;
it’s what he saw afterwards that stopped poor ole Larry’s heart
cold in his chest.
The room on the other side of the window is filled with a cloud of
flying insects, and in the center of the cloud Larry could make out
the shape of two small bodies struggling to get away.
Big Ben stumbled around blindly as the insects attacked angrily, he had a second in which he could see the doorway leading out into the other room, he started swinging both arms around his head and charged toward the opening; only to trip and fall over Lil’ Bitty as she attempted to rise from the floor for the second time.
Without the slightest hesitation Ben scooped her up and rose to
his feet, at that moment something took him over; he’s living in
one of his many daydreams.
In these dreams he’s always a handsome well built young man,
he’s the town hero, and Betsy-Mae’s his girl.
It’s all so “Oh so, so, so, and whoop-d-do, and la-de-da;” he’s
sick with it, but this day his dreams going to come true.
Big Ben carried them both to safety that day; he’s her hero.
Ole Larry didn’t feel too good, the first jolt of pain came the
moment he saw the kids, the second hit as he worked his way
through the window, and the third and final one came as he
stumbled across the room and pulled the kids from the next room
and fell against the door, closing it.
Sara-Mae took off screaming like someone set her on fire, she
didn’t know what to do so she ran up to the nearest gang member
she saw and begged him to help her.
As luck would have it Big Ben had a older brother in one of the
many gangs in the area; kids with cell phones were everywhere,
they made calls to 911 and followed Sara back to help, not
knowing what to expect.
Calls to 911 went on until the police arrived.
It was “fight or run for your life” you couldn’t just stand around
looking, it took a few minutes but they got the kids out, two were
Darkness spread quickly offering little relief from another long hot
summer day on the streets of New York City .
Most of the residents in this area waited until nightfall to come
outside, for most, air conditioning’s a luxury few of them could
afford in the ghetto, not just because the people were poor, most of the housing weren’t equipped to deal with one.
People were out tonight, more than usual, it seemed as if
everyone in the area had a police band radio and is aware of the
police responding to a call that had every cop in reach heading
Children in danger, is what it added up to, not much information given, just the general location of the disturbance.
They were removing the last of the heroic victims who found out the hard way that they had a low tolerance for bee venom, most were just people that fought the hardest to get the kids to safety, other were the unfortunate ones who fell to the ground and got trampled as the battle expanded outside of the building it started in.
Someone had made a real bad mistake, the door old Larry died
closing was reopened, and it got real busy at “Joes-get-all-you-can eat,” it didn’t seem to bother some of the dinners that they had to sting what they’re eating to death first, and that it would most likely be their last meal, they re numbers were in the millions, some in the hive would feed without dying.
Swat arrived with enough body armor to deal with the situation;
they lost only one person in the only battle that ever earned the
NYPD any respect from a neighborhood of people that had none
before that day.
When the police discovered what made the kids sick up they’re
dinner more then a few did likewise.
The place‘s ‘a hanging gallery.
Bodies are suspended from several crudely fashioned stands
consisting of a 16” foot pole with an arm, a pulley, and a rope.
The fun didn’t stop there either, the victims had all been bound
with they’re hands and feet tied together behind them while lying
on they’re stomach, and there’s a hangmen noose around their
neck that’s also attached to their hands and feet.
This was done so the victims slowly hung themselves while
being used, as human “piñatas”, most are no more then a bag of
skin filled with broken bones.
The building had four rooms that are used in this fashion; there’re
a total of 8 bodies found still hanging, and another 5 lying on the
floor throughout the building.
13 victims were found inside the building that night, some had
been nothing more then a pile of bones, reduced to such by insects and rats over a short period spent in the closed down building.
By the time it was all said and done, 27 people are listed as
dead that night.
No one really knows me, and I can’t be figured out; what anyone
thinks they know about me can only be applied to which me they
know, I show them a face then play the game.
Playing games is a large part of what people do with each other,
seeing the real from the false in the games isn’t something
everyone can do; but it’s a gift and a curse in my life.
The ability to do this has given me a way to redefine my existence whenever the situation I’m experiencing leaves too much to be desire.
Finding another way to deal with a thing could mean becoming
someone else and seeing it through another perspective.
At the time it was necessary because the reality of the situation
was either adjust or die, so if the situation took me further then my
present ability to deal with it, I became someone more capable of
what’s demanded to survive at that moment.
There’s a “me” that’s independent of the other personalities,
but most don’t know when that “me” is in the drivers seat.
This works for me, I’m comfortable with the way I am, and it matters nothing to me if no one else is; or if they think I have any
This isn’t about me though; it’s about people getting murdered,
and the best way to stop it, not hearing me out doesn’t help the situation, what I tell you can be taken to the bank and gives you something to show for it later in life.
I see what’s real right along with the fake in life; the look I give
a thing comes from more then one angle.
I’m here to help because I earned the right to be here; I’m one
of the victims.
I don’t come cheap though, oh no, but I offer my services free of
charge to help bring down a monster; you have nothing to lose by
hearing me out.
There’s one personality in me who rarely talks at all, he’s nothing nice, and in fact I think he would just as soon kill you then look at you.
I’m in control though, I spend the most time forward, and if I
withdraw I can bring forward whoever I choose.
There was a time when all I knew was loneliness, fear, and pain, life as I knew it was gone forever, I was a child victim being held captive by the person responsible for the death of the only family I ever knew, the end of life as I knew it.
Everything I knew is gone, and in its place is a vast unknown
future filled with loneliness, fear, and pain.
There was no hope of rescue, no Mom or Dad; it’s always been
just Eddy and me; now he’s gone, killed before my eyes by his
partner, a fellow cop.
Who’s left to think of me?
There’s only the memory of the people I met along the short childhood of my life.
I became them in my head to keep myself from going crazy,
and they became all I had left in life.
Other then Eddy there were 6 other people who touched my life
long enough for me to form a memory of them.
It was all I had left.
I became them to be free.
They were whom I talked to during those long moments in
captivity and afterwards as I slowly lost my mind from all that had
happened to me ever since leaving the hospital with Eddy.
Let me tell you something about myself that hopefully will help
you understand what my life is like.
Voices, they fill my head even when I sleep, and if I’m not
careful they have me walking around talking to myself, or slipping
in and out of their personalities.
The voices I hear aren’t a bunch of imaginary friends I made up,
they all are from people I met and have totally different
personalities so when I look in the mirror it’s whoever’s forward
face I see looking back, and at times they come forward and live a
totally different life then me.
Some of these personalities have successful careers to attend to
whenever they’re forward; others have special skills or talents I
don’t have as Mandrel, or any other of my several personalities.
Each is as different as night and day, but there’s one thing they
all have in common; they all exist in me.
I don’t know if the real people whose personality I have in me
are still alive or dead, maybe some day I’ll find out for sure, but
right now it’s really not important to me.
I wasn’t born like this, and I sure didn’t ask to be done this way; turned into just another homeless child victim of a vicious crime; one who lost touch with reality in order to survive captivity at the hands of the person that took everything from him.
Eddy was all I ever knew; now all that my life was is gone.
What I’ve become from it is a blessing and a curse, the voices never go away; they even talk to each other all day and night,
there’s even one always rapping and singing, making music in my
head day and night.
The others spend most of the time talking about T.V.