Based of a small paragraph I found about the man Andrew DeSalvo was based off of.
I'm not really sure where I wanted to go with this...
He didn't accept gifts from anybody
Only ate once a day
He didn't smoke neither drank
He frequently bit his chauffeur
He had a hard and suspicious look
He liked baseball.
He spoke English laud
He only had 3 military suits (…) and no civil cloth
Castells was irritable man. He was always red of anger.
He frequently wrote letters to Trujillo.
He was instinctively cruel but wisely to covered himself with the mantel of pity.
He yawned at least 150 times a day.
He hated Dogs but loved Crocodiles.
He measured sick people pulse with gloves on.
He had a prodigious memory.
As he walked down the dank, dirty hallways, the sounds of children snuffling and them slowly cracking filling his ears, he took in a deep breath of the sense of power over this damned tower that he had had himself sentenced to. He knew nothing of why things happened here, but he knew everything about what happened. Why this place was created, he understood not the true reason and when he had been hired as a supervisor, he cared nothing for it.
He took a small step forward while making his rounds only to step in a small puddle, and cursed loudly, practically feeling the child in the cell next to him jump in horrified surprise, and he made note to visit the snot nosed brat after cleaning his shoes and this damned mess. The quality of the quarters were very poor and he could feel the dirtyness of the cells whenever he entered one, the sick uncleanliness sticking to him like a second skin and choking him as he did his job of surpressing the children.
He stomped angrily back to his chambers in the middle room, and curse the damned architechts and for Godsakes, did they have to make the middle room so out of the way to get to? He stayed, in place, staring long at the note placed on his desk and oh had the cheif already replied to him? He'd never met the man but assumed that the guy was the reason behind this insitution of madness that, he doubted, any of the children ever made it out from.
Bending down to remove his boot, he silently fumed about how he certainly wasn't appreciated enough if it took nearly two days to reply to a note from him, he wrote nearly everyday to the chief, and as such the chief should be used to these things from him by now. The letters that weren't really letters informed the mysterious man of the happenings and the going ons in the prison. He called this place so because no matter what the other supervisors said - they must be brainwashed, he thought - the place was most definitely designed to be prison-like. A holding place for the children to grow and learn, they said; a place for them to learn valuable skills!
The sole of his shoe was wearing thin, only three hundred and ninety-two days? He made sure to get new ones to replace these, thought he had atleast two more sets he had saved in his room that went with the other outfits that he wore. The boots were necessary to complete the ensemble, the three getups he had received from his employers, the only thing he had ever accepted from them as he felt no need to exercise their, if they had any, hospitality.
He climbed down the ladder in the middle of the room, enjoying the sounds of fear from the kids in their cells as they heard him clank down and he let himself a moment of self-appreciation and his imagery of self-worth raised that much more, his cruelty growing every step he descended. He slipped slightly on the last step, not paying as much attention to his footing in his moment of pride and vanity, abrupt anger bubbling up inside of his stomach and throat. He could feel his face heat in the hot fury of embarrassment and even as he knew no one could have seen it, the others out still patroling, he cursed again loudly and angrily.
He continued down the ladder to lower himself down to go to the kitchens and see if any of the children were misbehaving; he could use some loosening up after that mishap that was entirely his own fault, but he cared not for logic as he knew that he was in charge, atleast somewhat, and could easily decide what happened to who.
Opening the doors, he caught glimpses of the muscles of every child in the room tightening in fear and anticipation, every one of them hoping to all hopes that it wouldn't be them, he wouldn't choose them and he grinned to try and ease them up, a kind look on his face that did not manage to cover up the slight crease in his brows that spoke much of what he truly thought of all of the things, as they could not be categorized as people in his mind, that sat very still in the room.
They would have stayed like that for some time had he not moved to step forward and through the tables, his movement that broke the deathly silence and the children became animated again; no one could eat, no one could move, unless he had moved first. The rules had never need be writen or spoken, and they had been learned through harsh beatings and disappearing friends and even others that they were not familiar with. The rules were more than rules, not unlike laws that ruled their existence and nor need be spoken the room that existed behind the kitchen where naughty children where sent when they were unruly and deemed 'uncontrollable'.
Andrew rather liked the - and as he refused to call it torture, the interrogation room where dirty blood ran down the floors into the pools below and the lights were dim so the children would not see it coming from behind them, the sudden black that they would ever see again. The last one had had these grey eyes that clashed with his dim red hair that was dull and lackluster from his time in the prison, his time in his cell.
He stared down at one of the children in the room, and the neck and back muscles of the kid tightened under his strong stare that he held upon him until he decided no, this would not be the child, not today. He was like God, he decided when as he turned back and away from the small and terrified boy, his relief could be felt throughout the room. Was this how religious acolytes felt when they learned that their God had saved them from hell. that he had chosen them over the rest of humankind because of their beliefs? He chose none for their beliefs or for how they dressed, as he himself was a man of little faith and had little dress other than his quite military like uniforms gathered from the people who had hired him to look after and take after the children. At the very least, he could do one thing right.
As he looked to the food that was served to them, he was reminded of yesterday when he last ate and felt no sadness or sympathy when he deprived a child of his last meal of the day when he felt his hunger creep up on him. His size was unfortunate and he could feel the snickering glances that landed on his back not less than once or twice a day, but it did make him feel better when it was his foot or hand coming down upon the back of whomever it was that was stupid enough to get caught making fun of him. The food, he was sure was not a problem, as he ate infrequently and very small when he felt the growling sensation build enough to make him want for food that could be easily enough supplied should he wish for it.
After he had scraped the last of the meal into his large mouth that more often than not shouted swears at the children, he escorted the trembling child of whose dinner he had stole back to his holding place. They marched through the corridors, or as it was, he marched the boy through the tunnels that allowed them to exit out to the grated stairways outside.
Almost deciding to take the ladder up, but he refused to make a mistake as he had earlier and even as he thought of that his anger rose up again and the small sounds of pain from the boy did nothing to appease him, his grip tightening and crushing. This anger made him lose his head much easier, and he would not have otherwise, but when he saw another child outside of his cell with no supervision, he felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and fury that he shoved the boy in his grip away from him.
The boy tumbled away from him too quickly for him to realize what he had done and now as he watched him fall down into the thrashing waters below, he felt nothing, only instincts making him twist him face into something like sorrow and regret. The boy that had been there to see another slip up of his was torn between running and hiding and running, and stopping for the supervisor that surely felt no pity for the boy he had thrown into sure death below.
He moved towards the boy and was certain that this stupid child would not be the cause of his downfall, would not cause his sudden lack of a job or a duty. He would not allow it.
The small boy gave no resistance when he beat him down, letting it happen without fight for he had seen what happened to the others when they tried to explain or tried to stop him; nothing stopped him. Nothing could reason with him. The child promised himself that he would never let himself become one of those poor unlucky souls that got sent to the room behind the kitchen, he would never let himself get erased. He made himself promise to tell anyone, even if one of the other supervisors asked; he would never tell. He would find out, the man beating him now for something that was not his fault would find out he had tattled and he would get beaten again before being chopped up and fed to his peers.
The beating lasted not quite long, as he had tired and wished to complete his rounds before retiring to his chambers for sleep. He lifted the boy and dragged him to the door on the third floor, draggind him through the hallway, draggind him into the boys room and leaving him there on the cold floor, he left, locking the door behind him. He would visit later, ensuring that the bloodied and bruised boy would not reveal his mishap to any other supervisors and children.
He paid no attention to where he was stepping and as he moved forward he felt himself step into a puddle, small and unassuming and turned to stare at the door he had exited out of not even a minute ago. His chuckles followed himself all the way back to the middle room and for Godsakes, did it reall have to be so far out of the way?