My hands moved slowly, carefully buttoning my blouse. I stared at myself in the mirror, noticing my flushed face and chest.
Calm down Claudia, I thought to myself, praying that my colorful complexion would settle. My hands shook as I turned the doorknob, exiting my room.
“Be careful today,” my roommate Emily said as I entered the kitchen. “I’m serious, Claud.” she added, noticing my eye roll. “This guy is clearly dangerous, and you are fully aware of that. Don’t think I don’t notice you're shaking.” I glanced down at my hands as they struggled to keep the mug in them steady.
“I worked so hard for this,” I spoke, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “This interview will define me for the rest of my career.” I gripped the sink, my knuckles white.
“That’s not true,” Emily calmly approached me, resting a comforting hand on my back. “And besides, you’ll do great regardless.”
“It’s not just that,” I said, turning to face her. “This will define him. If I don’t ask the right questions, if I don’t do this the way everyone wants me to, the way those girl’s families need me to- If I screw this up, it’s too late. No do overs.”
“I think the world’s already defined him.” Emily slides the New York Times across the counter.
“ROT IN HELL, SPENCE!” Printed in thick, black lettering, the title screamed the same four words that had been chanted outside the Pennsylvania penitentiary for the past month. Below the heading an image of bright eyes, messy hair, and an eerie smile stretched across the page.
He’d joined the ranks of Dahmer and Bundy in a matter of months. His trial was quick, admitting to the rape and murders of twenty-seven women and girls almost immediately after his arrest. The verdict was broadcasted across America in every media thinkable, and an uproar of satisfaction rolled across the country when his execution date was set.
Ryan Spence was undeniably smart. His words during his trial had been few but haunting. While his admittance had been satisfactory to the court, it hadn’t been to the public eye, and it hadn’t been to those whose families he had harmed. And I was sure he knew. People have a fascination with serial killers. There was an intrigue to the mind of a psychopath, and people desired to understand it. The more brutal the actions of a killer, the more people wanted to fully understand them. Ryan Spence had lost his life, but he still had the public wrapped around his finger.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I looked up at Emily, “I’ll see you tonight.” I grabbed my bag and made my way to the door.
Emily gave me a soft smile as I closed the door behind me and stepped into the cold January air. I attempted to slow my rapid breathing as I walked towards my car.
How did I get myself into this, I thought to myself as I fastened my seatbelt. I recalled the cool October day I can remember so perfectly.

…
“Eyes up here people!” My head snapped up from my keyboard to see Mr. Rienks in all of his plump, coffee stained glory.
“As I’m sure you’ve all heard,” he began, the fluorescent lights flickering above him. “Ryan Spence was sentenced death last month. He will be executed January 16th of next year.”
“Good riddance,” I heard loudly proclaimed from a cubicle behind me.
“Yeah, well, it’s very good for us in more ways than one,” Mr. Rienks continued. “Mr. Spence has chosen Central News to conduct his last and only interview.”
I couldn’t help but snort at his words, and Mr. Rienks turned to face me. “Is something funny, Ms. Mills?”
I blush as the office turns to look at me. “It’s just-” I sigh, giving up on my attempt to soften my statement. “He picked us? Really? I mean, our view count is slim to none compared to the other broadcasters that must have wanted him.” I looked up, noticing a few nods from those around me.
Central News 4 had been running a whopping 11 years and had yet to offer anything of importance to the New York City area. When I applied for a job, I was fresh out of Columbia and determined to become the best journalist this city had yet to see. Yet, there I was, five years later, working for a channel that reported on the city’s best hot dog carts.
“Thank you for your confidence in us, Ms. Mills.” Rienks shot me a glare as he paced between cubicles. “It never ceases to inspire me.”
I muttered an apology as he continued. “As I have been told, Spence wanted to grace a smaller but committed station with the opportunity to tell his story.”
“Spoken like a true narcissist,” I speak, the room filling with quiet chuckles.
“That he is, Ms. Mills, but he’s the most expensive narcissist in the world, and if feeding his ego gets us on the map, I’ll take it.”
“Who’s conducting the interview?” a voice called out.
“That,” Mr. Rienks says, “is to be determined. Currently I have a few men in mind.”
“Men?”
“Yes, Ms. Mills, men. I need someone who can control the interview, and for that I need a strong character. No murderous serial rapist is going to respect a woman.” Rienks scoffed at my question. “Now, back to work,” he called as he retreated back into his office.
This interview could be my ticket out of this hell hole, I thought as I processed his dismissal. I stood abruptly from my chair and marched over to his office. I swung the door open without a knock.
“What the hell Rienks,” I spat angrily as the man stared at me, wide eyed, “You can’t just cut me out of the running for this! I do a better job than any man here and you know that!”
“I’ll admit,” he began, my eyes still boring into him, “You are talented. But I’m not about to send a 28 year old girl with an uncontrollable temper into a room with a man who killed people just like you.” He looked at me with pity, fueling my anger.
“Are you kidding me? I have a degree in psychology, who could possibly be better for this spot? What do you thinks going to happen, that you’ll send some tough guy in a suit into the room and you’ll have Spence under your thumb? He’s a sociopath! He’s a sociopath who’s spent the past six months surrounded by men in suits, they mean nothing to him!”
“That’s the point, Claudia, the more comfortable we get him the more he’ll talk.”
“Talk? Are you being serious? You think if you make a narcissistic, sociopathic, pathologically lying killer comfortable he’ll spill you his secrets?” I shook my head. “He’ll lie. He’ll lie to you, he’ll lie to me, and he’ll lie to anyone you send in there. He’ll spit some crap about his childhood and avoid any questions about his killings. He’ll beat around the bush. This guy is proud of what he did. He feeds from the attention. And he’s smart. He knows that there’s one question, one thing people want to know: How did he do it? How did he charm these girls? How did he kill them? How could anyone possibly lure dozens of young women into his car, brutally murder them, and get away with it for over a decade? If he gives that answer, he’ll be remembered. But if he keeps that secret? He’ll be a legend. What is more appealing to a narcissist than the idea of being remembered forever?” Rienks looks up intently at me. I had his attention.
“Want to know how to make this a good interview? Make him uncomfortable. Make him as uncomfortable as humanly possible. Evoke in him emotions that he hasn’t had to face since his arrest. Bring him back to all those moments, to all those girls. Throw him. Don’t have him tell you, let him show you.” I finished my speech with a huff.
“What better to throw him than a young woman who brings all those memories and desires back?” Rienks glanced up at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m sold. January 15th, Ms. Mills. Don’t disappoint.”

…
I arrived and the U.S. Pennsylvania Penitentiary at 3 p.m. I made my way down a dimly lit hallway, two broad men on either side of me. Their gaze was set straight ahead of them as each rested a hand on either of my arms. As they led me, perfectly paced, my nerves grew. We turned a final corner and I was greeted, again, by all men.
“Ms. Mills,” a man who couldn’t be much older than 40 approached me, his hand shaking mine. “Jacob Taylor. I’m head of Mr. Spence’s security team. I just want to reassure you of your safety.” I nodded as he opened the door in front of him, leading me into a dark room.
“This is where we, as well as your colleague John Rienks will be watching you and Spence.”
“How exactly will you being doing that?” I glanced around the black room.
Jacob flipped a switch and a dim light casted over the room. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed the large window in front of me. Through the glass, I saw. There, sitting at a metal table, was him.
His head was hanging, his unruly curls covering his face. His arms were sitting, perfectly folded, in his lap. He was dressed in a light blue button down and crisp khakis, much nicer clothes than I would have expected. As the lights flickered above him, his head snapped up. He pushed his dirty blonde hair off of his forehead as his eyes met mine. A lazy smile spread across his face as he leaned back leisurely in the stiff chair.
“He can’t see you,” I tore my gaze from the window as Jacob spoke, “The other side is a mirror. He’s just smiling at himself, I promise. Which brings me to the second part of my schpiel.” Jacob turned to face me completely. “I don’t doubt that you have done your homework, Ms. Mills. I cannot stress enough, though, how manipulative this man is. The way he has been with us, well- I can only imagine how he will act with a woman. He’s going to try to get into your head, he’ll resist anything you ask of him.”
“I came prepared, sir.” I hoped my voice portrayed me as more confident than I felt. “I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I trust my abilities.”
“As do we Miss. Mills,” Jacob smiled kindly at me. “If you ever need a break, though, just nod towards the window.”
“Thank you,” I offered a smile as the door behind me opened.
“Ah, there you are Claudia.” Rienks approached me, rubbing his hands together. “I trust Jacob has already explained everything to you?” I nodded. “Wonderful. As we discussed before, this is a live interview. If you need a break, we’ll roll cut to commercial, but try to stay in there as much as you can. Cameras are set up, we’re ready when you are.”
“There’s no one working the cameras?”
“Nope. Just you and him in that cell. We thought it would make things more interesting.” Rienks smirked at me, sensing my discomfort. “Still think you can handle this?”
“Of course,” I sent a tight lipped smile Rienks’ way as I turned away. I took one more look through the window.
Ryan Spence in the flesh. He couldn’t be more than 20 feet away from me. His eyes were still glued on me, on himself. Like a true narcissist, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I’m ready,” I finally spoke, facing back towards the men. Without another word, I turned on my heel and marched towards the door, gripping the knob. I breathed deeply as I twisted.
The small room was much colder. To keep him on edge, I thought to myself.
“Well, I certainly was not expecting you.” I turned to fully face him. His eyes raked me up and down. He met my eyes as he shot me a smile. “Spence. Ryan Spence.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as he winked. “Claudia Mills.” I stuck out my hand as I sat down opposite of him. His hand grasped mine, calloused and warm despite the temperature. My gaze glanced down as he lowered our hands to the table before intertwining our fingers.
It was strange. There was a pulsating warmth running through me as his thumb began to lazily rub my palm. I met his eyes. A piercing green, they were the brightest things I had ever seen. He was beautiful close up. His skin was a creamy olive color, smooth across his sculpted face. He ran his free hand through his curls, which fell to the tops of his broad shoulders, and he smiled again, pink lips parting to reveal a row of perfectly straight teeth.
“What the hell!” I suddenly crashed back to earth, jumping from my seat, sending the metal chair clattering to the floor. Ryan burst into laughter, howling as I tried to collect myself. I scattered to reposition my chair before sitting back down, keeping a far distance from the table.
“I was told I was being sent one of New York’s best journalists.” His laughter had stopped, but I could tell he was fighting a smile and I met his eyes again.
I pulled myself together before leaning back into the table, settling in my original position. “You were.”
“Oh really? I wasn’t expecting something so…” his eyes explored my face before meeting mine, “delicate.”
“Someone.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m a someone, not a something.” I glared at him as I continued. “Preferably Ms. Mills.”
“Right, of course. My apologies.” he smiled, “I prefer Ryan, if that’s alright with you.”
“Where did you grow up, Ryan?”
“Southern California. Los Angeles, to be exact.”
“And what was that like?”
“Exciting. Always something to do.”
“And when did the drugs start?”
“What?” he suddenly grew more serious, all playfulness gone. “I was told that this interview was only going to be based on what the public knew of my case.” Spence glanced towards the mirror.
“I’m from Huntington,” I spoke, his eyes snapping back to mine. “No teenage boy grows up in Southern California without getting into them at some point. I know from what I saw.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but I continued on. “Tell me, Ryan,” I leaned farther across the table, “Why is it that brutal murder seems to have no effect on you, but drugs do?”
His mouth set into a straight line. “I never did drugs. I never have, or alcohol for that matter. I stayed away from that.”
I snorted. “Is that supposed to impress me? The serial killer kept away from narcotics, congratulations.”
“You’re a feisty thing aren’t you?” His smile returned.
“Woman. Not thing.”
“Even better,” he added. I cringed.
“What came first?” I continued, “The urge to rape, or the urge to kill?”
“Both,” he spoke confidently, not missing a beat. “A girl moved in a few houses over when I was 17. She was gorgeous, all the guys wouldn’t stop talking about her. They wanted to love her, but I wanted to hurt her.” I swallowed. “I can’t remember the first time it hit me, the first time I had those urges. I just know it was with her.”
“Was she your first victim?” My voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper.
“I saw her parents packing their car one night. They left, I assumed for a long weekend or something. So that night I showed up at her house asking if she wanted company. She did. For the first few hours I tried to restrain myself. I wanted to prove to myself I didn’t actually want what I had been fantasizing about. She kissed me though, and I gave in. The feeling of her neck in my hands… it was exhilarating.” My stomach lurched as he smiled, as if recalling a fond memory. “I took some jewelry and silverware when I left the next morning and buried it, so the police pegged it as a robbery. They assumed Molly was just collateral damage.”
“You didn’t try to hide her?”
“No. I didn’t care enough.”
“About her or being caught?”
Ryan smiled as I threw him another question. “Both, I guess. I didn’t care about anything.”
“Except yourself.” I stated it more than asked.
“No. Nothing I have ever done has been about my narcissism, whatever they call it.”
“Are you ashamed of it?” I asked.
“The narcissism or the killings?”
“Both.”
“No.” There was no hesitation to his answer, “Not at all.”
I attempted to act unphased. “Tell me about your family.”
“My father left when I was seven, so it was just my mother and I. She had a baby girl, Sarah, when I was about twelve, but she passed before she even made it to six months.”
“Does that upset you?”
“Yes,” he looked at me like I was crazy, “more than anything.”
I stared back at him, shocked. “These girls, they were someone’s baby sister. They were daughters, wives, girlfriends, they had people who loved them, one of them was a child, Ryan. They were human. None of that means anything to you?”
“Nothing good happens here. They’re thanking me.”
“Where’s ‘here’?” He ignored my probing.
“They deserved it, every one of them. I never killed an innocent person.” His gaze was set on his hands, folded across the table.
I sighed, knowing I was losing him. I threw him another question. “What was your weapon of choice?”
“Didn’t have one. I always used my hands. It was always more…” He waved his hand, as if searching for a word. “personal.”
“And that was important to you?” I leaned farther across the table.
“Yes.”
“All your victims are quite similar in appearance. Dark hair, bright eyes, petite. Why was that?”
Spence remained quiet for a moment. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’d like to pass on that question, if you will allow me to.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, actually, I will not allow you to. You requested this interview, and I expect answers.”
He remained quiet, eyes gazing blankly into mine. “Fine, you don’t want to talk, I will. I think the girls resembled someone. Maybe someone who had hurt you? An ex girlfriend, abusive family member. Tell me, Ryan, what did your mother look like?”
I sensed his anger as I continued. “It was your mother, wasn’t it? What did she do Ryan? What could she have done to crush your idea of women?”
He’s eyes glared into mine, and I could the veins in his forehead straining against his skin. He lowered his head and shook it, releasing a shaky breath. He seemed to physically relax as he brought his gaze back to me.
“You know who else my victims resemble?” I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “You.” A grin spread across his face as he sensed my discomfort. “I had things I looked for in victims. Some of them were physically, yes, but not all of them. I liked women who had some fight in them, I liked the challenge. There was something so satisfying about watching them break.”
He had leaned farther across the table, and I could feel his hot breath fanning over my face. His words were so eerily hypnotizing that I could not pull myself away. “I chose them all carefully, I watched them for weeks before I decided they were good enough. But after, what, half an hour with you? I could already tell you would have been my favorite.”
“You…” I struggles to phrase my disgust as my heart pounded in my chest.
“What is it? Do I make you nervous, love?”
“We’re taking a break.” I breathed out my words, my voice barely above a whisper. I stood up and made my way towards the door, my eyes still wide.
“Oh, come on! Where’d that fire go?” Spence cackled from behind as I exited the small room that had seemed to get smaller.
The door shut behind me as I entered the main room. I slid down the thick metal and pulled my knees into my chest, burying my head into them.
“Ms. Mills. Are you alright?” I was startled, having completely forgotten about the other’s in the room. I jumped up, and faced Jacob.
“I am so sorry, I just completely blanked. I needed to get out of there.”
“I understand, Ms. Mills. It’s heavy stuff.”
A heard a cough from behind me, dreading what was ahead as I turned around. “What the hell was that, Claudia.” Rienks looked livid, his face red and eyes wide. “You were the one who was so convinced you could get control over him. You were the one who assured me you could break him! It looks to me that things are the other way around!” He had inched closer, now towering over me.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can do this.” I took a deep breath, combing my fingers through my hair. “I’m not going to let anyone down.”
“Claudia,” Rienks seems to have calmed as he leaned down to get eye level with me. “He’s in his element. Talking to women has never been difficult for him.” He turned me so that I was facing Spence, a small smile still playing on his lips. “If your approach isn’t working, find a new one. What would make Spence most uncomfortable? Put yourself in his shoes.”
“Wanting to kill me but not being able to.” I kept my gaze locked on Spence.
“Exactly,” Rienks smiled down at me. “He killed with dominance. Like he told you, he liked fight, but he liked breaking women more. Give him the dominate role. Show him sympathy, and fall right into his traps. Right now he’s on the defense. If he thinks there’s nothing to defend himself from, that he has you in the palm of his hand..”
“He’ll have nothing to hide.”
…

“Welcome back, love.” Spence grinned up at me as I returned to my seat.
“Hi,” I spoke quietly, finding that it was not difficult to act inferior to this man “I’m sorry about my abrupt exit, that was quite rude.”
“I didn’t peg you as the polite type.” He stared back at me with an unreadable expression.
I laughed. “Well, you would be right there.”
“So where were we?” Spence asked, his eyes still not leaving mine.
“Your killings.”
“Right,” Spence smiled, “of course. What would you like to know, love?”
I inwardly cringed at his use of the pet name. “How did you get the girls to come with you? Did you ever use force?”
“No, it was never forced. It's like a game, you see, getting them to come with you. To find a beautiful, seemingly intelligent woman, and getting her to walk into her death… It was a rush.”
“So why rape? Why was killing them not enough?”
I resisted the urge to pull away as he reached across the table to brush my hand with his own. I kept my focus on his eyes.
“Killing was too fast, the rape prolonged their tortue.”
“But was it satisfying to you?” I questioned him further.
“No, not sexually. It seemed to hurt them the most, and that’s what it was about for me. Emotional and mental pain, as well as physical.
“Have you ever experienced that?” His brow furrowed together at my question. “Emotional and mental pain, I mean.  Did you suffer a lot of that?”
His head snapped up as I squeezed his hand. He looked down at the table, almost disbelieving my gesture. Show him sympathy, show him sympathy. I repeated Rienk’s words in my mind as I felt his hand squeeze back. Even his touch was charming, I thought to myself as he let go, feeling the absence of his hand.
“Yes,” he finally spoke, “You could say that. Mentally, of course. If you haven’t heard, I’m a sociopathic narcissist.” He chuckled, and I joined in. “I drew quite a lucky hand.”
“And emotionally?”
“Yes,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “Who hasn’t?”
“Do you still feel that pain?”
“Always.” His eyes burned into mine with intensity. “I thought killing would end it all. I thought that first girl, Molly, I thought she would release all the anger in me. I thought she would end my urges but they grew, they keep growing, they consume my thoughts- I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Spence ran his hands through his hair pulling on the ends. He released a shaky breath. “Next question?”
I swallowed, knowing he was beginning to open up. “You say you had anger you needed to release. What had made you so angry?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Ryan,” I attempted to give him a look of sympathy, “please. You don’t have to hold onto this, we all do things we regret, don’t take this anger with you, tell me. Let me help you.” My pleas tasted bitter rolling off my tongue.
“You think you could help me?” He snorted. “You’re just like her. You all make it worse”
“Who? Who makes it worse?”
“All of you that look like her, that remind me of her. You’re the reason I can’t stop!” Spence’s head was held in his hands as he began rocking in his seat, his eyes lowered.
I stepped out of my chair and made my way around the table separating us. I lowered myself beside his chair, resting on my knees as I gazed up at him.
“Ryan, who is it?”
“That baby was the only thing I cared about, she killed her! That b**** killed her!”
“You got a girl pregnant?” I was lost as the man above me pounded on the table.
“No, my mother, damn it!” he cursed as he hit the table so hard it shook. “My sister, my baby sister, Sarah,” he cradled his now bloodied fist as he repeated her name. I saw the door creak behind him as Jacob peeked his head into the room. I motioned him to leave, and the door quickly shut.
“Your mother killed your sister.”
“Yes,” Spence cried, his head hung low, “she and my father were heroin addicts. My father didn’t give a s*** about any of us. He left us,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “My mother would disappear at nights. She came home with money though, so I never asked where she went.”
He seemed to calm as the words poured out of him, “One night she came home and told me she was pregnant. She was terrified of having another kid, but I was so happy. I wanted this baby to be a clean slate. And she was, she was so beautiful.”
“But my mother was still using. She had a child to take care of and she couldn’t stop, even for Sarah!” I saw Spence’s anger returning. “So for six months, I took care of her, I loved her, so much. I considered her my own child.”
“And then one night I came home. I had gone to get milk or something, just a quick run to this store down the street, and it was so quiet, and I went to go check on Sarah- and my mother was there, going on and on about how she was mad and she didn't mean to and it just happened. And there was Sarah. Dead. She had held a pillow over her mouth until she stopped crying.” Spence had tears now, silent ones flowing down his cheeks.
“But we couldn’t tell, my mother couldn’t go to jail. She kept saying how she couldn’t leave me.”
“Ryan-” I attempted to find words.
“I didn’t care at that point. Sarah was gone, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I haven’t felt anything since the last time I held her, nothing but anger.”
In that next moment, there was a flash. A few brief seconds where I saw everything human about him. I saw a young, curly haired Ryan, trying to give his sister a better life. I saw behind the monster Ryan Spence, for just a moment. Then as quickly as it came, the moment passed.
“Do you know how I got here, Ms. Mills,” Spence turned to me, a small smile on his lips, all traces of sadness gone.
“You were pulled over for speeding. You’re plates matched ones that a witness identified belonging to the car your last victim stepped into.”
“Ah, you did do your homework.” Spence stared down at me as I realized I was still crouched by his seat.
“You are wrong, unfortunately. I turned myself in.”
“Why tell the public the opposite then?”
“I was finished when I turned myself in. I’ve been ready to die since I walked in here. I wanted no sympathy, and I didn’t want to appear to be regretful. I’m not.”
“Why now? Why were you finished?”
“I killed her.”
“Your mother.” It was more a statement than a question.
“I’m sure I’ve just caused quite the frenzy out there.” He smiled as he gestured towards the door, “No one’s reported her missing. She had no one left to care.”
“Did you rape her?”
“I did the same to her as I did to the other’s. She got no special treatment. I did think that the outcome would be special though, that I’d feel something more. I thought I would get a sense of satisfaction from her that I didn’t from the others.”
“But it felt the same?”
“Exactly the same. I knew if she couldn’t satisfy me, no one could. So I came here. I am finished.”
“Your own mother..” I shook my head in disbelief as I stood.
“She killed Sarah. I did what I needed to.”
“The other girls didn’t kill Sarah, Spence.”
“I told you to call me Ryan.”
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want,” I gave up my inferior role as I began pacing the small room, dozens of women’s faces resembling mine flashing across my eyes.
“I didn’t care, they looked like her, that was enough for me.” He shrugged.
I stopped my pacing and turned to face him, lowering myself to his still-seated level. “You. Are. A. Monster.” I emphasized every word as I glared at him. He returned my harsh gaze as I continued. “You can’t blame her, Spence. She didn’t make you like this. She didn’t make you kill dozens of innocent people. You did that all by yourself. I can’t even begin to comprehend-” I was cut off as Spence’s chair clattered to the floor, and in a second I was against the wall, his hand around my neck.
“Listen to me, you b****. I do not feel any remorse for what I did. I. Feel. Nothing. I would do the same to you in a heartbeat. You are worthless, just like her!”
In a flash he was off me, Jacob pushing him to the ground as I gasped for air. Another guard pushed me out of the room, slamming the door behind me.  “Claudia, are you okay?” I pushed past Rienks and broke into a sprint as I made my way towards the exit.
…

January 16, 2015. I was seated behind a large pane of glass as I stared into the room before me. Execution day.
          After my abrupt exit from the penitentiary, Rienks stopped by my apartment. After congratulating me on what he called “a heart stopping interview”, He delivered a message from Spence. He had requested my presence at his execution. I was more than willing to comply.
          I could see inside the small room as a door opened. I recognized Jacob as he walked a quiet and cooperative Spence over to the medical table that served as the small room’s centerpiece.
          “Is this a window on both sides?” I leaned over to Rienks, whispering quietly.
“Yes.” He kept his gaze set ahead of him.
As I turned back to face the room in front of me, Spence’s gaze met mine. His expression was unreadable, neither happy nor sad.
           Minutes that felt like hours passed, and Spence was finally strapped fully onto the table. The needle was held above his wrist.
         “Last words, Spence.” Jacob seemed eager to leave the confined space which we were all seated outside of.
         “Claudia,” Spence’s eyes met mine. “It was lovely meeting you. As I said before, you would have been my favorite.” As he chuckled I was sure that my expression reflected the bile I tasted, rising in my throat. I could still feel his hand around my neck.
         I didn’t deserve Ryan Spence’s last words. Those women did, those whom he had killed. His last words should not belong to me. By record, they do. But as the needle was pressed into Spence’s vein, and his heart began to slow, he breathed out one final word before it all went black.
         “Sarah.”