The Mass Murderer Who Loved Me

Chapter 11..

"So, why do you get to work back here, and no other student does?" I asked Brian, as I watched him sort files, and read student's profiles.

"Well," he began, tilting his nose in the air and taking on a refined air, "it's because I'm an extremely intelligent young man, who earns special privileges."

I laughed. "Sure, I don't believe that."

"Alright fine, I'll tell you the truth then," he said chuckling. "The old pyschiatrist thought it would be good for me to have something to do to busy my time. And plus, I've been here a very long time, and I just got on the good side of the staff I guess.... they let me do some pretty fun stuff."

"Like what?" I asked curiously. He grinned widely.

"I've got keys to the basement." He said with a laugh. I just raised my eyebrows and stared at him, as he dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a key ring, somewhat like a janitors set, and he jingled them gleefully. "Come on." He said simply, and within a few minutes, Brian was showing me his own private hang out spot. the basement!? What is he doing in the BASEMENT?

"What's so special about the basement?" I asked as we descended the stairs in complete darkness.

"Close your eyes," He said giddily. I sighed, and closed them, and stumbled down the stairs. We reached the bottom and he flicked the light switch on, and he led me further into the room, until I was standing in what I assumed to be in the middle. "Open." He said gently. I opened my eyes slowly, and was very shocked to see what I saw. Roses. Roses, everywhere. Pots, upon pots of Rose Bushes covered every inch of the room, except for this spot we were standing in.

Big lights hung over them, to keep them "sunlit" and comfortable, every bud was in bloom, and the smell was incredible. I breathed in, and sighed, and closed my eyes, before rushing over to one of the bushes spilling out of it's container, kneeling down, and taking a blossom in my hand, just to look at it better. The vibrancy of the red was breathtaking, and just the feel of rose petals in my finger tips was so lovely.

"Do you grow these, Brian?" I breathed, as he stood sheepishly behind me.

He nodded slowly. "I needed a hobby...." he trailed off. "The old psychiatrist said that I needed a hobby...."

"They're beautiful." I sighed, and stood up, turning around to look at him.

"Thanks," he said awkwardly. "My mother grew Roses. When I was a kid. I've always thought they were.... there was always something special about them." He said at last. I didn't say anything in reply to that statement, I just stared at the Roses, and breathed in the scent again, and smiled happily. It was so strange to be standing in the middle of a basement, and feel like you were in the middle of a garden.

We left the basement a few moments later, and walked to the cafeteria to get some dinner. I kept on glancing at Brian, everynow and again, while we were sitting at dinner together, and eating. I couldn't believe that this was the boy who I thought was a mass murderer or something. I'd been way too quick to judge him. I mean, he grows flowers in a basement for fun.... That may be a little weird, but it's definitely not befitting to a killer.

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