Origami I

A patrolman walked a therapist, Mike Davis, into the bleak, cold room, it was painted a sickly green color; it had three blank walls with the fourth wall having a large mirror. The patrolman gestured to Mike to sit and wait, and then he left the room. After several minutes the patrolman returned with the patient, John Stevens, who sat opposite Mike.

“Hello Mr. Stevens. How are you today?” Mike asked very calmly.

“I’m okay, given the circumstances.”

“And what are those circumstances, Mr. Stevens?”

“You know, detective. What I did to get where I am now.” John said with bitterness.

“I’m not a detective, Mr. Stevens; I’m a criminal psychologist. I was sent down here to try to get a grasp on why you did what you did. You’ve confessed your guilt. I cannot help you with that, but I might be able to help you rehabilitate yourself. Does that sound okay to you?”

“Well, why not?”

“You’ll only be helping yourself, John. This is a good first step. Let’s start from the beginning, tell me everything.”

“The beginning,” John chuckled, “I guess the beginning was about January of last year. That was when I met her.”

“Met who?” Mike asked.

“Leah Sommers. She was perfect: perfect smile, perfect eyes, perfect in every way that did not matter.”

“Where did you guys meet?”

“At a community center Origami class. We were partners; her favorite fold was the paper crane. I loved her and I thought she loved me. Those first two months were great.”
“What happened after the two months?” Mike asked.

John was now taking scraps of paper and turning them into origami cranes.

“I caught her cheating on me. By that time we had pretty much moved in. she still had her own place, but she was always at mine. I went to pick her up and there she was…with him.”

“Who was he?”

“Just some asshole that lived a few rooms down from her.”

“Did you two have a confrontation?”

“Not really,” John laughed, “He was way bigger than me. He tried to get me to leave, but she told him to leave.”

“Did he?” Mike asked.

“No.” John was no longer smiling, “I did.”

“Where did you go?”

“To a bar. I didn’t want to. I just went in to sit down, but they seemed so comforting right then. I haven’t had a reason to drink in the last 11 years, but this seemed like a pretty good one.”

“You’re a recovering alcoholic, then? 11 Years, that’s impressive.”

“Yeah, big f*****g accomplishment.” John said sarcastically.

“When did your alcoholism start, John?”

“When I was around 14, my father wasn’t the nicest of guys.”

“Did he drink too?” Mike asked.

“Oh yeah! He drank so much that sometimes he seemed to forget I was his son, and just beat the crap out of me for no reason.”

“What about your mother?”

“What about her? That he beat her too, raped her once or twice. Is that what you wanted to hear? About my shitty childhood, about him killing her?! RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!?” John was ripping the cranes as he talked.

“John you need to calm down.” Mike said, worried. “That’s why your father is in prison right now?” Mike already knew the answer.

“Yes, he wasn’t a very smart guy. He got caught pretty quickly.” John gathered himself, “After all that, I got sent to live with my grandmother, but by then I was already drinking pretty heavily.”

“Why?” Mike asked.

“Because it was easy. An easy escape from the abuse.”
Mike looked sympathetic at first, but had to adjust himself. He needed to remember that John was a murderer. “What finally got you to quit drinking, John?”
“One night, when I still lived with my grandmother, I came home really late at night. I was wasted, I don’t know how I got home, but I did and there she was, waiting. She started yelling at me. Calling me worthless, she said I was just like my father. Which I guess sent me over the edge, because the next thing I know she’s on the ground crying, inching towards the phone, and I realize what I had just done.”
“And what happened next?”
“I tried to apologize. I plead on my hands and knees for forgiveness.”
“Did you receive it?”
“Yes, afterwards I told her that I was going to stop drinking, and get my life together.”
“And you did?” Mike asked.
“Yeah. I really did, and she was proud of me.”
“Do you two still keep in touch?”
“No, she died right after I graduated from college.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you love her?”
“Of course I did. She was the best thing for me. My whole life I was so used to alcohol and beatings, that I forgot that someone could actually care about me.”
“Didn’t your mother care about you?” Mike asked.
“She did but she could never show it because my father would get mad. He hated me.”
“So, you’ve just had your first drink in 11 years; what do you do next?” Mike asked nonchalantly.
“I went to talk to Leah. She apologized, gave me the whole load of crap she had before, and for a while I actually believed her. Thing went back to how they were. No fighting, no cheating, just love for one another.”
“And then…” Mike asked.
“I asked her to marry me.”
“What did she say?”
“She said yes.” John chuckled again, but his laughter turned into tears. “I loved her, and she loved me, no one else, ME!” John took a second to calm down, “At least I thought she did.” John’s origami crane pile had grown to the 50’s. “I was headed to our place to get ready to go out for dinner to celebrate, and there she was with another man, again.”
“And that’s when you killed her?” Mike asked.
“Not exactly, I told the guy to leave first.”




Origami II

It is 11:14 at night. The gray concrete walls make his cell seem colder than it really is. The only light he has is a very faint ray of blue that shines through the small hole in his cell door. He lies down and begins to ponder the day’s events. He thought about Mike, and what he said when he left: “I’ll try my hardest to help you out. You are going to prison, that much is already done. But, I’ll try to get you a shorter sentence.”

That one sentence. John repeated it in his head multiple times. I’ll try my hardest to help you out… “Why would he want to help me?” John said to himself. John went into an uneasy sleep.

The next day John had another meeting with Mike. A meeting he was unaware of. He went into the same interrogation room as the day before only with Mike already waiting for him. John sat down, keeping his guard up. “I talked to the D.A. he said he could try to plead this as a crime of passion, which is what it is. But, you’d still end up doing a minimum of 5 years federal state.” Mike started right away.

“I don’t want any help. I know what I did, and I know there is no going back. I want to be able to atone for my crimes on my own.”

“John I’m trying to help you, why won’t you let me?” Mike said confused.

“I don’t want your help,” John said. “Why do you give a s***?”

Mike looked at John “Because…because everyone deserves a second chance.”

John could tell that there was something about Mike that he wasn’t sharing. Mike gathered his papers put them in his folder and said to john, “I’m going to help you and you can’t stop me from in here.” Mike left in a hurry.

He walked right past the secretary’s desk without signing out. He ran to his car, which was on the far side of the parking lot. His car was a small grey Honda. The backseat was covered in what looked like a mix of case-files, and trash. He threw John’s file in the passenger seat and drove off
He pulled into the closest bar. Both hands were on the wheel, with his head on the horn. He looked depressed.

Mike hesitated going into the bar. There was a lot Mike didn’t share. He was a very secluded person. Interviewing murderers and psychopaths will ware someone down socially and mentally. He rarely went out, and when he did it was to a bar.

“What’ll it be?” The Bartender said.

“Huh?” Mike said, half asleep.

“What will it be? This ain’t a sitting club. You buy a drink or get the hell out.”

“Oh…um…Gin & Tonic works.” Mike said.

“That’ll be $8.50” The Bartender said.

“Why don’t I just give you my whole damn paycheck?” Mike said sarcastically. Both of them laughed. “What’s your story?” The Bartender asked.

“I don’t have a story. I interview Murderers and psychos for a living. That’s it.” Mike said as he took a sip.

“Everyone has a story.” The Bartender said “Why that?”

“Why what?” Mike asked
“Why did you pick that as a career?”

“Why’d you pick the bar as yours?” Mike asked.

“Fair enough,” The Bartender said “You want my story? I’ll give it to you.” John was hardly paying him any attention. “I was convicted of murdering my Sister.” He now had Mike’s full attention. “They locked me up for a year. Here’s the kicker. I was innocent; they had overlooked evidence. They found my print on her body, but only after I had found her that way.” Mike took a sip. “They didn’t bother to look anywhere else for prints, and naturally assumed I was to blame. Turns out her Boyfriend had been hitting her, and she threatened to leave, so he killed her.”

“What was her name?” Mike asked.

“Leah.”

Mike paid the Bartender and left. He was now in his car headed back to the Prison. “Godammit, why didn’t I recognize him?” Mike was now speeding. He parked his car in the front of the Prison, and went in. He signed in on the log, and requested to see John Stephens.

“Mike. It hasn’t been an hour.” John said surprised.

“Sit down John,” Mike was shaking. “I think there are some things you aren’t telling me.” Mike said.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“What does that mean?” Mike asked.

“I’ve told you my whole damn life story, and I don’t know anything about you.”
John said.

“I’m not at liberty to tell you anything about me. You don’t need to know anything
about me.”

“You want me to talk, and I want you to talk. Simple as that.” John said.

“Why do you want to know anything about me? Why do I interest you?” Mike asked.

“I’m supposed to trust you with getting me the least jail time possible, and I don’t even know you.”

“What do you want to know? This is who I am. Just a guy who interviews murderers and psycho-“

“I’M NOT A MURDERER!” John shouted. “Sorry, but I’m not a murderer. I did what I had to. She was going to leave me; she can’t leave me.” John was calmer now. “Not anymore.”

Mike scanned john over, while shaking. “I...I…Think we’re done here.” Mike got up very slowly and left the building. He got in his car locked his doors and screamed as loud as his lungs would let him. He began to hit his steering wheel. Gathering himself he rested his head on his steering wheel and whispered to himself: “I can’t help him.” He went home.

Back at the prison john was being led back to his cell by a single guard. Once they walked past the guard lounge John quickly turned and began to attack the guard, eventually being able to choke the guard with his shackles. Once the guard was dead john dragged him into the nearest maintenance closet, where he took the guards clothes, badge and gun, and anything else he might need.

He walked through the maintenance tunnels until he reached a manhole, where he escaped through. He rolled up his pant legs so they would not get sewage on them. He then made his way down the tunnels for several miles before stopping to rest and vomit. He continued on towards his destination. Eventually he came to the drainpipe. He walked out into the rain and washed his face off.

John made it to the nearest motel, and set up there. He took out the phonebook and began to look for everyone named Mike Davis.






Origami III

Mike had just walked in to his one room apartment. He put down his bag, which was full of old and newer case files, and walked over to his mini-bar and poured him a glass of scotch. He was just about to walk to his bed when the phone rang.

“Uuughh…Really?!”

He walked slowly to his phone, hoping that they would hang up. He picked up the phone and answered it. “Hello?”

“Mr. Davis?” A worried voice said.

“This is he.” Mike said while walking to grab one more ice cube for his drink, “Who is this?”

“We have some news about an inmate that you have been meeting with.”

“Yes, John. What about him?”

“He has escaped.” The voice said.

Mike set his drink down and inched closer to a chair to sit in. “What do you mean he’s escaped? How did he manage to do that?” Mike asked.

“We are unsure of all the specifics at the moment, but we are sending patrolmen to your apartment as a precaution.” The voice said.

”Thank you. Are there any leads.”

“Not at the moment, Mr. Davis, Please try to remain calm.”

Mike spent the next two hours waiting quietly for the two patrolmen to arrive. He was thinking about how everything could have gone so bad. And then he remembered what he did for a living. Interviewing psychos and crazy people is a tough profession. The Patrolmen still haven’t arrived. He looked around until his untouched drink was in his sights. He reached for it, and once it was in his palms, he felt at ease. The ice had melted inside the glass. Taking a sip, he thought about his talk with the bartender, about why he chose this career as a way to live. “I’m a damn fool.” He said. He threw his glass against the wall in a fit of rage.

All of a sudden John came walking out of the bathroom. He was walking very slowly while mocking Mike. “Took you this long, dumbass?”

“What are you talking about? How did you get in here? How did you find me?”

“I’ve always been in here.” John said, “We both have.”

“What are you talking about?” Mike asked confusingly, “How the hell did you find me!?”

“I’ve always known where we used to live. We, you and me, we are the same.” John said.

“I’m nothing like you. I don’t kill people, I don’t pretend to love a girl only to go and murder her just because my ego got shattered.” Mike said mockingly.

“How dare you talk about her like that! I loved her! And she loved me!” John shouted. He regained his composure and continued, “Not like that. Not the same personality. We are the same person.” John said.

Mike took a second to think about everything. Everything was wrong. He took out his wallet, opened it up and looked at the picture of him and Leah outside of a restaurant, a picture which he didn’t even know existed.
“That’s right.” John said.
Mike dropped the picture and his wallet and walked to the window. Resting his hands on the glass, he looked outside and everything began to make sense. “Why do you exist?” Mike Asked.

“You made me.” John Said, “Don’t you remember? After you saw mom get killed, you tried your hardest to deal with it for a while, but you couldn’t handle it. It haunted you.” Mike started to think. “So you hid the memories, eventually they manifested into me.” John said.

“But, I’ve never been to prison. I’ve been out here doing my job. How could that work?” Mike asked.

“It was a combination of things. The drugs they used in the asylum, and mild schizophrenia.”

“What asylum? I’ve been going to a prison to meet with you.” Mike said uneasy.

“No you haven’t; everything you think has happened, the bartender, the job you think you had, all of it has been created in here.” John pointed to his head. “And here.” He then pointed to mikes head.

“So why kill Leah, the girl you supposedly loved?” Mike asked.

“Because, she was in love you, not me;” John said bitterly, “she knew we were different, but she loved the part of me that was you. And I hated her for that. I hated you for that.”

“But, why kill her?”

“Because she was going to leave us, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want her to be happy with anyone else, even if that meant she wasn’t happy with us.” John said very somber.

“With you.” Mike said.

“What?”

“She wasn’t happy with you. She was fine with me, you were the problem. Not me.” Mike said.

“Well, now we’ll never know.” John began to walk towards Mike while pulling out a revolver from the back of his pants. He cocked it and then began to aim it at Mike.

“Wait. You don’t need to do this.” Mike said. His was heart beating very loudly.

“Yes I do.” John said, “Ill finally be with her again.”

Mike quickly rushed at John, tackling him to the ground. A small tussle ensued as they fought with each other over the gun. Mike punched John, and eventually kicked him into an end table. Mike quickly rushed to pick the gun up. He held it out, cocked it and aimed it at John, who slowly raised his hands in defeat. “Slow down, cowboy.” John said with his hands in the air.

“Shut up! I’ll do it. I’ll end you and I’ll get the help I need. You won’t be a problem for anyone ever again.” Mike said straight-faced.

“No you won’t. That won’t work, Mike. Not like you think it will.” John said, “I’m not real. ‘Killing’ me won’t do anything. I’ll be right back here again tomorrow.” John said as he slowly lowered his hands. He began to walk towards Mike who was standing with the gun still pointed at John.

John rushed Mike, who quickly turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger.

Hours later the apartment was discovered by a patrolman who took an emergency call from the neighbor. He called it in.

“This is Markowski, badge number 3621. I’ve got a 10-56 on 43rd and West. One dead body. Requesting backup.” He said.

“Copy that. Backup currently en-route, ETA 6 minutes time. Coroner is 8 minutes out”

Behind the officer was a wall covered in a pile of origami paper cranes. They were covered in blood.