We've tied Sympathy to a railing on the catwalk over the Void of Lost Remembrance. She does not cry, though I'd prefer that she did. Instead, she twists loosely in the breeze, trying, trying to understand what we've done.
"They have families," she says. "Don't you care at least about the families they left behind?"
We close the door and leave her there, so we no longer have to listen. In all this time, in all these years, she has never gotten better. She is always looking outward, towards people and places and things that are not us, and worries about them and their happiness. She cannot understand why that doesn't matter. We cannot convince her.
So she will twist over the chasm for a time. And we will go back to work.
Pride is working the controls, alone, as usual. We watch as the Husk glides through white and green halls, thin carpet stretched over cement, closed doors on either side. The Husk knocks twice on one door that is entirely like all the rest, and a woman inside says, "Come in."
She is a pretty woman, black bun'd hair, wire glasses, sitting in the valley between two teetering stacks of binders.
"This case, right?" she says, smiling, playfully straightening one of the mounds. "After all this, I hope he's not actually guilty."
Disgust spits on the screen. "Whore!" he shouts. "Why does she talk to us like that? Like we're the same? Like we're equals?"
Patience is there, though, putting a small hand on the rough hide of Disgust's scaly back. "There there. In time, in time. She'll see. Just give it a bit."
Excitement has wings, and she flies about the chamber, dragging her small, fairy feet across the top of Disgust's head. "You hear that, buddy? We'll get 'er! Oh yeah, we will! We'll cut her up! Up up up!" Dancing on the console, she starts counting on her pink, dusty fingers. "We'll cut out her heart, and her lungs, and her kidneys, then the liver, then her uterus - that's my very very favorite! - and then all those intestines and then..."
"Knock it off!" growls Pride, shooing her away. "I can't see what I'm doing."
"You alright, Jack?" says the woman, her face a veil of concern, false and womanly. "You look far away."
"Oh," says the Husk, and I see Pride flick the switch, turn on that sly smirk. "I get a little lost when I'm around you."
She sighs, almost in spite of herself. Pride sits up straight, leaning slightly back. He's satisfied. They all are. And it's in these moments - these pivotal points, where everything begins coming into alignment and the wheels start picking up momentum - it's always in these moments when they all turn to look at me. To see what I'll say, or if I'll say anything at all.
"It's good, isn't it, Remorse?" says Excitement, fluttering before me. "We got another one!"
And I smile. And shrug. As I always do. "Looks like it."
So this was a prompt response on /r/WritingPrompts from a while back. To date, it's the second-most popular thing I've ever done on Reddit, inspiring the two pieces of artwork attached (credit /u/lilypichu and /u/IGiveTrustIssues respectively), as well as an audio recording. As you may have guessed, the prompt was to create an "Inside Out" scenario for a serial killer.
It's always the most f'ed up stuff that really takes off...