The man winces when he hears the door of the interrogation room slam shut.

He looks up as a woman enters.

His eyes slide almost boredly over her hourglass figure, stopping at her eyes. He loves how they're widened in fear. He notices how she breathes deeply before sitting opposite him, and how she keeps her hands folded in her lap, but they continue to shake.

Her fear is as plain as day to him. Her dilated pupils and eyebrows pulled together and down give her away.

He's studied her science, and he loved to see their fear.

Her green eyes survey his expression as he smiles at some inside joke.

After several minutes of intense staring he breaks the silence.

"You're one of the circuis freaks who can tell if I'm lying?"

"And you're scum." She spit back in reply.

"If we're done stating the obvious I'd like to ask you what you've done with Samantha."

"Samantha? I don't know anyone by the name Samantha."

He watches her intently before answering.

"I haven't touched any kids since I was put in prison."\The woman slams down a file onto the cold metal table in front of him. She analyzes his reaction to the picture in front of him.

"Not your type huh?"

He watches, face blank, as she lays out for more pictures beside the first.

"Now I see, you like brunettes." She gives a small nod and leans back in her chair, crossing her legs.

"You know, that's not the typical reaction pedefials have when they see their victims. It's almost like..."

Her eyebrows furrow as she goes through the possibilities in her head.

"I tak medication so I won't hurt anymore kids." He offered.

"Oh."

He watches as she all but deflates before his eyes, her anger giving way to sorrow, and he sees the terror she'd been hiding. Not the fear he had first seen.

She isn't afraid of him. She's afraid of the idea of him.

It's almost as if he stirs memories from her past .

"So who was it? Who was who I am to those four little girls

to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. But you aren't going to answer, are you?"

He cocks his head to the side and studies her.

He feels the old excitement and pleasure from before bubbling within him despite his meds.

"I'm done with you."

He sees the disgust and contempt along with the fear he loves so much, the fear he thrives on, as she speaks.

She stands and leaves the room, and his cold eyes read her name on the badge pinned to her blazer.

He feels his mind reverting bsck to old, twisted ways as he whispers.

"Oh, but I'm not done with you, Gillian Foster."