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Friday, May 11, 2012

The Container of Souls

I’m waiting in my cell. Impatiently. Knowing very soon I’ll be taking that long walk to the end of the line. I think the waiting is worse then the dying will be. I wish in these final moments I could be alone. But they keep talking. The voices in my head.
Charles keeps saying over and over that he shouldn’t be here. Samantha, or Sam if you like, wonders if we’ll all go to the same place in the afterlife. Tom keeps mentioning what he wanted for a last meal. And Tommy, the one that put us in this cell, just laughs his maniacal laugh.
I wish I was just crazy. That would make everything a whole lot simpler. I’d accept that I killed 5 women. Accept that I’m a serial killer who deserves to die, and everything would be peachy keen. But unfortunately it’s not that simple.
Six months ago we all volunteered for this experiment. We all had our reasons. Mine was simple. I was broke. This was the easiest way to make a quick buck. Rent out my body, or sleep on the street. Seemed like a simple decision to make. And at least I’d still be in my body. Whereas the essence of the others would be removed from their bodies, and placed in mine. It was like opening my home to tenants I had never known before.
Dr. McCobb, at least he said he was a doctor, said that this experiment was important. That it could solve the population problem. Make resources last longer. Why waste space with only having one soul to a body, when you could just cram in a bunch of souls? Seemed to make sense to me at the time. I couldn’t see what the down side would be.
McCobb was supposed to carefully choose the people he’d put into my body. Ones that were compatible. That had similar interests. Similar appetites. Sexual preference. It was like matching up people on one of those dating sites.
One thing that wasn’t factored in was the mental health of everyone. That was one factor that definitely should have been factored in. Tommy seemed normal at first. We never gave it a second thought when he was at the controls. He had a way with the ladies, which we all appreciated. But one night he snapped. Started choking a woman we were having sex with. We couldn’t get control of our body.
Tommy figured out how to lock us out. We were prisoners trapped outside the control room of my head. Finally we found a way in. Overtook him, and sent him far away from the control of this body. But it was too late. Five women were dead, with my fingerprints all over them.
I couldn’t locate Dr. McCobb. It’s as if he had never existed. No link could be found between me and these three other people. It’s as if a mad man made up a crazy story. Another crazy man going on about voices in his head.
They’re strapping me in now. The leather pressed hard against my body. I see faces on the other side of the glass. They think they’re going to see justice. I suppose they will. For one of us.

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