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"...Squirm," said a voice derisively.

It was the middle of a conversation between two cops who stood inside the viewing room, behind the one-way mirror, watching the lone figure seated at the table in the interrogation room.

"He's a fucking perv. A menace. How they can let the likes of him loose is beyond me after all of these years. I'll bring in his sorry ass every time I find him."

"Yeah, you were there back then weren't you? The little shit is just asking to be beaten up in prison. Can't figure out why he goes free all the time."

A throat cleared behind them. Having heard no one enter, they both whipped around, hands to their holsters.

"Easy boys. Don't blame me for the fact that you don't pay attention to your surroundings. I've been here for a good two minutes."

The voice was cool, calm and completely collected.

"Martin..." started the one cop.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked the other defensively.

"Curiosity. I've heard about this gentleman and I've looked into his case. Thought it might be worth the time to talk with him, one on one."

"Talk with that thing? What the hell do you think he could tell you that would be worth the spit he'll likely send your way?"

Martin was the police psychologist and not easily put off by anyone.

"I won't know until after I talk with him, now will I?"

"Suit yourself shrink-man. I'd personally like to put a bullet through his brain and take the stress off the court system. Do you know where I found him this time? Right near a bunch of kids on the playground!"

Martin yawned in an exaggerated manner.

"Yes, I know. He's supposed to keep three hundred feet away from juveniles at all times."

"And yet there he was! I'm telling you he's a fucking menace, and no one is going to do anything about it until he abducts and rapes someone's kid."

Martin sniffed a little, a gesture of distain missed by the men in blue.

"The park is public property for one. Secondly, if you would have cared to measure the distance between the edge of the playground and the bench he was sleeping on, you would find it measures a distance of three hundred and twenty six feet, making his presence here bordering on police harassment."

"Why you fucking, educated shit!" cried one of the officers.

Martin picked his nose and then proceeded to wipe it on the irate man's uniform.

"Johnson isn't it? The one who nabbed Tommy Chang's shipment of drugs last week?"

The officer was so startled by the abrupt change in topic that he immediately forgot the insult to his jacket.

"That's me!"

"Good job on that one. Street value of two million, right?"

"That's what they say."

"Well, keep up the good work."

Martin turned to leave.

"Where are you going shrink?" they asked him in unison.

"To talk with your prisoner there. I like stories and I just bet his is more interesting than a lot of bullshit I hear around here."

The cop named Johnson snorted.

"You get your jollies listening to the likes of him? What are you, a pedo by proxy?"

"Is he a pedophile? When was the last time he molested anyone?"

There was a pause.

"That has nothing to do with it!"

Martin held up a hand.

"It has everything to do with it. Stay in here and listen, or go out and arrest some jaywalkers. The choice is yours. But whatever you do, you stay out of that room."

"You're crazy, but if that's the way you want it, so be it. Him murdering you will finally give us a reason to get rid of him for good."

Martin turned and walked through the door. In a moment the cops saw him enter the interrogation room, where he turned and carefully closed the door. The sole occupant of the room looked up, looked down, and then jerked his head up again.

"Fucking detective? What the fuck you trying to pin on me now?"

Martin smiled slowly.

"Detective? No, not me. I'm a psychologist. I don't arrest people. I talk to them."

The one ankle-cuffed to the chair groaned.

"Oh God, kill me now. Not another head-fucker!"

"Head-fucker? Hardly. I already know about your case Charlie. I'm here to hear it from your mouth. Without adulteration."

"Don't call me Charlie! I go by Squirm. Nobody's called me differently in a long time."

"So I've heard. Never had a real name growing up?"

"Growing up? Is that what you call it?"

"Call it what you will, Squirm. Didn't your mother call you by your name?"

The other man spit onto the floor.

"Fuck my mother, like the whore she was. Happiest news I ever got was learning that she ODed. Got out of life too fucking easy if you ask me, but at least she's gone. I just wish she had taken all of my bad memories with her to the grave."

"Drug addict?"

Squirm narrowed his gaze.

"Why all the questions?"

Martin smiled.

"I like answers. I collect them."

"Yer a weird one, ya know that?"

"I've been called far worse."

"I'll just bet ya have, nosing in on people like ya do."

Martin pulled out a package of cigarette papers and a pouch. He poured some of the material from the bag onto the paper and rolled it up, twisting the ends tightly. Squirm's sharp gaze noticed immediately that the tobacco was green and not brown.

Martin noticed that he had noticed.

"Tommy Chang's good stuff," he said in soto voce. "Took a kilo from the impound this morning. Want a blunt of your own?"

Squirm stared at him for a moment before answering.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

Martin lit his and started to roll another.

"I just figured we'd sit in here and party until there wasn't anything left to toke or talk about."

Squirm waited a moment in case there was a punchline he was missing, then shrugged.

"Hey, If yer offering..."

He handed it over and lit it up.

A few puffs and Squirm eased back in his chair.

"Yer still weird. Why the fuck do you care about me?"

"I don't Charl...that is, Squirm. I'm interested in your story. As only you can tell it."

"Yer a retard ya fucking kook, but whatever. Ain't like I can go nowhere right now."

"So you'll tell me about yourself?"

Squirm laughed sorrowfully and gestured towards himself.

"Ya get what ya see."

"How about how you ended up like this?"

Squirm took a long hit on his doobie.

"I was born. Didn't ask to be born, but there ya go. I ain't never asked for any of this life. Wish I had the courage to just step in front of a fucking bus."

"Bad childhood?"

"No childhood, not that I can remember with anything but cringeworthy terror anymore."

"You had a sister, no?"

"Ya know I did, otherwise ya wouldn't ask."

"Sylvia?"

"Syl. Haven't bothered looking her up...ever. In a group home most likely."

"She is."

"How you know that?"

"I collect stories, Sometimes I need an index to make sense of them. I did my homework before coming down here."

"Fuck! You had to be looking that shit up for a long while. Most of it's buried in the system. That's why no one ever believes me about what happened."

Martin blew smoke into the air.

"So then tell me."

The two stared into each other's eyes for the longest time before the prisoner gave in.

"Ain't gonna hurt nothing retelling it yet one more time I guess. These fucking pigs keep dogging me hoping they can pin something on me. I live on the goddamn street for Christ's sake. No one will hire me and I have to live like a stinking animal."

Martin leaned back.

"I'm all ears."

There was a long silence before Squirm coughed.

"Ya know what I did?"

"From the files, yes. Not sure I agree with how your case was handled."

"That would be a first then. Everyone thought I was a monster, despite what happened to me."

"Go on."

Another drawn out silence.

"I hate even thinking about it. Didn't know what I was doing was bad. Had no school to teach me nothing. Just mom and her fucking "boyfriends". Still have no clue who my daddy was. Nor Syl's for that matter. Though she and I had different ones. Could tell that from the different colors of our skin. Didn't think much on it back then."

"So how did it start?"

"It? Call it like it was. I was fucking my little sister. It was me the idiot following the only thing I knew. Mom was the only role model I had, and everything that I knew I got from her, or picked up from the army of guys going in and out the door."

"You never went to school?"

"Not until afterwards, but even then, it was hell. Kids found out about me and I was beaten up more times than I could count."

"Understandable..."

"Sure, from yer perspective. I was still coming to grips with the fucking situation."

"Yes of course. Sorry. Go on. When did it first start?"

"When? How the hell should I know! I didn't read no fucking calendar and write the fucking date down!"

"Calm down. It was just a question."

"Fucking stupid question."

"I'll agree with you on that. How did it all start?"

Squirm finished sucking the last from his blunt and snuffed it out.

"Now that I can tell ya. Ya see, me and my sis only had each other. Most of the time mom was fucking guys round the clock. That's how she got the money for the drugs. Syl, well I think she got hit pretty bad before she was born. Never talked and rarely made a peep. Just sort of was. Probably whatever drugs mom was hittin at the time fucked her up good in the womb."

He paused and wiped a tear from his eye.

"I took care of her pretty much most of the time. Mom was always too strung out to do much more than croak out a few words now and again. Always had some form of food in the place though, but it was up to me to fix it. So I did. Mostly we ate porridge and cereal, when the milk wasn't bad. I even tried to clean the place up a little, but mom always told us to stay in our bedroom most of the time. Don't think she wanted her boyfriends to know we existed. Figured out why later on..."

He drew in a breath, held it and then continued.

"I never knew what was going on in her bedroom back then. But one day I happened to be out when she was "engaged" and her bedroom door was open. There was the usual noise coming from inside, so I poked my head in, but just barely. I saw some guy naked, on top of her, moving his hips and grunting like a pig. I watched until he was done, and when he got off, his cock was hanging there all thick and pretty. I looked at mom to see where he had put it, and I saw a hole in between her thighs where a cock was supposed to be. Yeah, I figured out about then that women don't have them."

He picked at his shirt as he gathered his thoughts.

"Now don't think I was totally stupid. Syl didn't have a cock, but I never thought about why that was, Until that moment. I cleaned her up a lot, since mom eventually forget that it was needed, and I knew all sis had was a slit. Never cared really, other than to get her cleaned up. I often had to put her in the tub just to do that since mom would forget things like diapers and wipes."

Squirm made a face.

"I was a little more interested after that, and so the next time she needed cleaned, I did it real good and then poked around a little more. Sure enough, there was a tiny little puckered pink hole hidden between those chubby lips."

As he reminisced, his face got a little dreamy-eyed. That, or maybe it was the really good weed.

"I stuck a finger into it, and found it soft and wet and damnably tight. Syl reacted a little to my probing, but hardly any more than when I had to wash her up. It didn't seem to please her or bother her either way."

"That first time I tried to get my little cock into her, but it wasn't happening. I ended up just rubbing it up and down her slit until both of us were sore. It was kinda nice, but I didn't see what the big deal was."

He paused to collect his thoughts again.

"I figured that maybe it was the hole that was somehow the really good part. I hadn't masturbated before this, but now I was drawn into learning what sex was all about. I played with my cock like it was a new toy. And when I wasn't doing that, I was fingering Syl until I was able to get all the way in. She didn't seem to mind it. Hell, I don't know; maybe she thought it was a game. It wasn't much more than that to me. Playing at being an adult I guess."

His face soured.

"Who knew being an adult would suck so much?"

Martin nodded.

"It's not always what it's cracked up to be."

"No," came the bitter reply. Then he slammed his fist on the table. "Hell no! It sucks fucking cowshit is what it does."

"It can. Depends on what you make of it I suppose."

"Riiiiight. Anyway, I worked her over for weeks before I was finally able to get my prick inside her. That first time is still stuck in my memory, along with a thousand others. I wish most of them would vanish, but wishes don't come true. This one wasn't so bad for a long time, until everyone made me out to be some sort of monster."

Martin nodded knowingly.

"I'm not judging you."

Squirm frowned.

"Yer a terrible liar, but whatever. I had her on the mattress - we didn't have a bed, just a mattress on the floor - and I had her on her back with her legs spread wide. I didn't think I'd make it in that time either, but I was surprised when it slid right in. I pushed and pushed until there was nowhere left to go. And then I was lost. I had to think about that guy I had seen and how his hips moved. I got something like it down and I did it for a half an hour. That was when I shot my first load."

Martin moved in his chair.

"How old would you say you were?"

"Fuck if I know. Ten? Eleven? Mom never told me my birthday, so how the fuck could I ever tell? But from what the caseworker told me, I'd say around that age."

"And your sister?"

Squirm frowned.

"Same problem. Maybe four."

"Four?"

"Yeah, four. I get it, I get it. I was terrible."

Martin shook his head.

"Maybe. It's hard to judge a child when the impropriety of their potential actions were never taught to them beforehand."

"Yeh, what you just said. I fucked her twice more that day, but the first was the only time I blew a wad. God I wanted that feeling back. It was so short lived, but it moved me like nothing else ever had. And Syl; well she didn't make a peep. Not sure if she liked it, suffered through it or was totally indifferent. I guess you could say I took the lack of a protest as assent."

"After that day it was my new routine. Anytime my cock got hard, I used her to soften it back up, no matter how times a day that happened to be. I started cumming a lot more after that too. The sex sort of blotted out the misery that was everything else."

Martin nodded.

"I get it. So how long did this go on?"

Squirm snorted.

"Again with the stupid questions. I don't know, a few months maybe. Who keeps track of time when they're happy? Miserable people know each and every fuckin' excruciating minute, but happiness seems to fly by."

"Too true, too true," replied Martin sagely.

"I was finally finding something enjoyable to do. It sucked not having friends and rarely leaving the house. And as long as Syl didn't seem to mind, I figured it was alright. Mom did it all the time, so obviously, it was the thing to do..."

His tone dropped off the edge of a chasm...as in sar-chasm.

"Boy did I get told how wrong I was for the next twenty years."

Martin nodded again.

"I know. I read your file."

"Not exactly a best seller, is it?"

"It was enough to pique my curiosity."

"And I told you already I think yer strange."

"Yes you did..."

"Whatever. So ya got the biggest part of the picture. I was screwing my sis and thinking nothing of it. Nothing really changed for a while until mom left her door open again. I didn't know who was in there with her, but I heard her yell out something about lube. I didn't know what lube was, and so I crept to her room to see what was going on. She was on her stomach, face down, and some bug guy was on top of her humping away. One hand was on her head, shoving her face into the pillows as she tried to scream. I heard him say something about her cunt was too stretched out to be worth the money, and he was going to get his jollies in something tighter."

Squirm paused.

"That puzzled me, for there was only one hole that I knew of. I pulled back from the door and considered what he meant. I left there confused, the muffled sounds of mom's screams lost in my contemplation. I went back and undressed Syl. She was a lot cleaner by now, having learned to use the toilet. I checked out her front and sure enough there was only the single opening. I rolled her over like mom was and found only the poop chute. That couldn't be it, could it?"

Martin sat up a little straighter in his chair.

"Are you asking me?"

"No you idiot! It was what I asked myself back then. I knew she peed from the front one and pooped from the back one, but it had never occurred to me to stick my cock in her ass. I tried to put my finger up there and she balked. The first time ever. So I figured I needed some of this lube stuff. I snuck back to the bedroom, looked on the bed stand and saw a bottle. Turns out it was lotion, but lotion worked well enough. Thankfully they were both stoned and busy fucking that I figured they didn't even notice me."

"I squirted a bunch of it onto Syl's asshole and rubbed it with my finger until it slid in. I don't know if it was tighter than her front, but it had a different feel. I was quick to climb up on her and work my cock inside. She struggled a little, but I persisted. I had to admit it was a freaking good feeling. I was soon fucking away on her ass, her butt cheeks pressed up against my front and my elbows planted on either side of her head.

He paused as a pained look came across his face.

"I didn't ever mean to hurt her. I sort of got lost in my own needs. But then again, I could never tell what she was thinkin' because she never spoke a word. Had a rude awakening that day."

"Goose?"

Squirm spit on the ground.

"Don't ever mention that shitball around me, do ya hear me?" he screamed angrily.

"Sorry. Just wanted to make sure it was the same guy I read in the reports."

"Yeah, the one and the same, Guzman was his last name. Everyone called him Goose."

"Police informant."

"Fuck that. He needed a bullet between his eyes."

Martin knew all about the case.

"Many do. Most don't get what they deserve. Can you go on with the story?"

"Whatever... So I was fucking Syl in the butt, totally ignoring anything else when the asshole we was just discussin' walked in. I didn't hear him, because I wasn't listening for him. Hard to say how long he was watching me go at it, but the next thing I knew he was on top of me, his hand on my back. I felt the coldness of the lotion as it hit my butthole, and the next minute I was blinded by pain as his cock ripped me open like a knife through butter."

Squirm made a face.

"I immediately felt bad for Syl for two reasons. I hoped it hadn't been this bad for her, and I hoped that she survived this since I was still on top of her, and now she had his weight and mine pressing down on her."

"Goose drove that piece of meat of his all the way in and when he stopped, I could hear him mutter about how this was definitely worth the money he had spent. I was trying to scream and get free, but he was a rock. No matter what I did, I couldn't move, and Syl was getting crushed under it all."

Squirm paused again.

"I was hurting like crazy, but I was more worried for her. This guy was big, like two hundred and fifty pounds, and she was so small. I wasn't even sure this guy was aware she was there underneath me. The worse part was, I was still hard up inside her, and everything he slammed into me, I was doing the same to her."

"He grabbed my shoulders and pushed until I screamed at the top of my lungs. He seemed to like that. His cock felt like a log in my ass, and he seemed bent on tearing me apart. I don't know how long it lasted, for I'm pretty sure I passed out a few times, but when I came to the last time, he was standing there over me laughing."

"I like the way you squirm little boy. Maybe I'll take you home as a pet."

"I tried to get up and finally rolled off of Syl. When I did, his eyes seemed to focus for the first time."

"What have we here? You were doing some even fresher meat? I'll just bet her ass is twice as tight as yours...was"

"He laughed at his joke, but I knew what he was going to do."

"That's where the real trouble began?" asked Martin.

Squirm snorted.

"Now you see where my nickname came from. But if there wasn't trouble before, there was going to be some soon. He might rape me, but the hell if he was touching my sister. I ran lopsidedly to the kitchen, got two steak knives and hurdled back and sunk them into the backs of his legs. He went down like a dead man, screaming in pain. The noise was enough to attract the neighbors, who apparently had misgivings all along about our house, and the cop cars came in quick succession. That included one of the assholes who picked me up again today."

Martin made a few mental notes.

"Did you give a statement to the police?"

"Sure I did. They took all of us to the hospital, including mom, and we were there for hours. The only good thing was listening to Goose cry out as they removed the blades from his legs. He lit up the entire E.R. with his screaming. I hoped it was as painful for him as he had been to me."

"But..."

"In the end, they believed whatever fucking story he concocted. Something about how I was into fucking and got pissed and sank the knives into him for revenge or something stupid. I got branded as an underage offender for admitting to fucking my sister and for attacking an adult and sent from group home to group home, because no family wanted someone like me around their own kids. And when I was eighteen, they said, hurray! Yer an adult. Get out."

"And life had sucked ever since..."

"Yeah. Everyone knows the story of how I was fucking my little sister. No one seems to know that I was raped by this douchebag and that I saved her from a fate that might have killed her. No one wants to hear that. They just like treating me like a fucking villain."

"Scapegoat."

"Sure, whatever you want to call it. Pretty fucked up if you ask me."

"It sure is. So what did they bring you in for this time?"

"Like you don't know."

Martin shrugged before answering.

"They said you were too close to the playground."

"That's the only fucking bench with shade. I was tired. I don't give a damn about no kids. No point in fucking up their life just because mine was."

"Good attitude Char...Squirm. Why do you bother sticking around here? Seems to me you could do better where no one knows you."

"Ain't got no money for no bus ticket mister smarty-pants. Barely can clear enough for food. Like I said before, if I weren't such a coward, I'd have killed myself a long time ago."

"And yet, here you are." Martin stood to go. " Well, thanks for clearing up a few things Charlie. I think I had better go now. I'll see that they let you go."

"That's it? Just listening to me ramble on about my shitty childhood does it for you?"

"Sure. I never trust paperwork. Lies are too easy to write, and tough as hell to remove. I wanted a chance to hear your side of it."

"And what do I get out of this?"

Martin smiled knowingly.

"What do you want?"

"Something you can't give me. A second chance."

"That is a tall order Charlie. Second chances are earned, not given. Sort of like a seed and a tree. Given a nut, you still have to nurture it along until it flourishes into an oak."

"If you got any of them seeds, throw one my way, or shut up and git out. I'm tired of talking."

Martin got up.

"Fine. I'll have them release you. Have a good day Charlie."

Martin noted with grim satisfaction that the man was no longer unreceptive to his given name.

"And fuck you. Where the hell do I have to go? At least in jail I get three squares."

"Sure. Then do something to get arrested for real. In the meantime, have a nice day."

Martin turned and left.

It was the last Charlie ever saw of him. Sure enough, a lady cop came, unshackled him from the chair and took him to the impound room to collect his belongings.

"I ain't got no belongings but what I'm wearing you stupid bitch!" he countered angrily.

She didn't take offense.

"Sign here."

He made his mark, she witnessed it and handed over a large box. It was fairly heavy.

"Whatever this is, is ain't mine. Don't try pinning nothing on me."

"Impound says it's yours. You signed for it. Open it here if you think it's a trap."

He wrestled with his emotions for a moment before opening it. When he did, he just stared at the contents before extracting a long leather overcoat. He pulled it on, finding the fit amazingly trim.

"Lady, is this a joke?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Isn't this coat yours?"

"I suppose it is now. Never seen it before though."

"Then don't look a gift coat in the mouth. Maybe it's from someone with deep pockets."

He buttoned it up, admired himself in front of the one of the mirrored windows and shook his head.

"This ain't going to be no good for me, I just know it."

Despite his predication, he exited the police station without anyone following him. He had on someone else's coat, but the hell if he was going to give it back now. He was a block from the station when he slammed his hands into the pockets on either side. His fingers hit a thin coil and he yanked it out with a yell.

It was only nylon rope. He guessed about twenty feet of it.

In the other was an envelope.

He tore it open, seeing the multitude of twenty dollar bills well before he saw the note.

"Charlie. Life is what you make of it. The old adage is, if you give a man enough rope, eventually he will hang himself with it. So that is choice one. In the other pocket I left the seed you asked for. Buy a ticket to anywhere and leave your troubles behind. Or buy drugs and booze and continue as you have been living. Choices are tough, especially when you actually have to make them. I don't care which direction you chose. It isn't my life. But I will be watching to see how your story ends."

He counted out the bills, mumbling to the air as he finished the task.

"The fucktard left me with a grand? Now I know I'm in serious trouble."

As much as the money both awed and dismayed him, there was one more thing written on the note that drew his attention.

An address. And a name.

Sylvia.

He was on the bus, sitting all the way in the back, huddled up against his fears. This was the first time he had left his home, and it got him right in the pit of his stomach. He had thought about stopping to see his sister, but she probably didn't even remember him after all of this time.

He had sent flowers though, and even had the clerk put his name down on the little card. He hoped she liked them. He hoped even more that she didn't hate him. He had never meant to be a monster.

He was a day away by the time the flowers made it to the group home. They were roses, pink ones, and a dozen altogether. The nursing attendant took them into her room, where she sat in a chair staring out the window.

"Sylvia dear, these came for you."

No response.

"No one has ever sent you anything before. Have you been sneaking out at night without us catching you?" She waited a moment to see if there would be a response to her joke. There was never a response from this patient and this time was no exception.

"Well, never you mind. The card says they're from Charlie. No last name, just Charlie. Well, you enjoy them dearie."

She walked out.

She should have stayed a little bit longer.

The young lady turned toward the departing figure, a tear in her eye.

"Ch-charlie?"