A.N: This chapter as most of you requested is Thredson's thoughts while he is in the basement with Lana. I've tried not to copy the script as much as possible, therefore I have written this chapter in the form of a monologue to show his thought process. Writing this chapter has been tedious, and i don't know if it is my best. It's written in conjunction with the events in the basement and follows each one. The monologue ends just as Lana hits Thredson with the picture frame. Hope you enjoy, please review.

Chapter 7

She's dreaming. I can tell by the way her eyes are flickering, and she smiling. She's happy. That's what she should be. Happy. It's as if she has forgotten, so peaceful, like all the pain has gone from her world. She should be like that everyday. Waking up to the delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. That's how every child should wake up, with their mommy in the kitchen making pancakes or croque-monsieur or waffles. It's just heavenly. Takes away the gloom of a rainy day.

Why do they always scream? Do they doubt my intelligence? Do they think i would be dumb enough not to have a sound proof basement? No one would hear them anyway. No one is going to come running. Screaming is pointless. It hurts my ears. It's no good for anyone. Wendy, Wendy, Wendy. They told me the process would be long. Years. But now she is mine. Why can't she accept that and forget about that cold bitch now scattered across 3 highways. Kit Walker will take my fall and Lana and I can live out the rest of our lives in peace. Mommy and I.

Nutmeg really does make all the difference in the world but it isn't my only secret. Lana will learn them in time, she'll slowly adjust. Accept me for who I am, love me for who I am, unconditionally.

Lana needs to know what happened to me, she will understand, not like the others. She'll love a monster like me.

The system, where touch spoils the child, like a rose wilts with a drop of poison. The leather crop, oh how I remember it's painful embrace and sadistic caresses. The only affection I would receive. No kiss goodnight, no hug before I left for school, no pat on the back when I scored full marks on a spelling test. No love. No heart. No contact. How it spoils the child, the everlasting void that can never be filled, the longing of Harlow's monkeys, the corrupt philosophy that made me the man I am today.

She seems sincere, as if she understands. I think she does understand. She knows what it is like to be abandoned. Granted it is not the same, but it's something. Something that bonds us together. Maybe not by blood, but still a bond. I hope the fear she displays will go one day. But I was right about her. All my doubt of before, washed away. She is the one. Lana is the one. Lana is my mother. Compose yourself Thredson for christ sake.

I now understand myself more thanks to my psychiatry. The broken attachment, leading me to long for skin on skin contact, the essence that made me kill those women, my desire to finally have the mother in my life I never had. Every baby needs their mommy, and I've found mine.

Living, breathing, the same age, it's almost perfect. She will never truly be my mother though, I know this logically and rationally, but in the cosmic joke that is my life. I think she could be.

I remember meeting my mother on a slab for the first time. She was beautiful. Soft pale skin, with a peach like texture, the little hairs tickling my fingertips as I touched. The feel of her stitches in the V across her torso, how the skin was mended back together, as if she could mend me back together. My first revelation of what I had been missing for so long. She felt so good and every fibre of my being told me this was right. Skin to skin contact, a mothers touch. But she smelled of formaldehyde. I knew then I needed someone living, someone who would reciprocate. Who didn't smell of death and decay.

Lana gave me her hand. Do I dare say she trusts me? Her touch, our first touch, so soft and delicate. She's listening to me, understanding me. She understands my needs.

Why does she cry? She should be comforting me not the other way around. She should be happy. All of my work is behind me now, now that I have her.

My mommy.

Phony

Lying

Bastard

Stop! Stop! Stop calling me that! He's unbelievable, how dare he call me a liar! When he's spouting fantasies of little green men! Lana will understand, the sooner he is in the chair and out of lives the better. Then no one will be able to take her away because of my practice runs. She's sweating, and looks panicked. Like a deer in headlights. What has she been up to? She wouldn't have? No she wouldn't do that to me? All the signs point to it? But she is the one.

I knew it. It was only a matter of time, God damn it! She was meant to be the one and yet she tries to flee the first chance she got. She was going to abandon you Oliver, just like your mother.

Why is she pleading with me? They're all the same. They're all gonna leave you. Eva. No I need to end Lana, such a disappointment. If only she hadn't tried to run, I would never have hurt her if she didn't. I would have let her live. But now she will become another piece in my mask against the world. The one that keeps me safe. My true identity.

There's something calming about removing skin, once the screaming stops of course. Making the first delicate incision with my scalpel blade, running it firmly along the lines drawn in from my mind. Just me and this living organ. A work of art to be shaped and molded into what i want it to be. A nice lap possibly? The pale skin against the harsh red of the flesh is such a beautiful contrast. Just like Eva the day she arrived at Briarcliff. No! I need to focus on the job at hand. Dealing with Lana.

I know it doesn't have to be this way, but I had such high hopes for you. So ambitious so alive, from the moment i first laid eyes on her. She understood me, she didn't see me for the monster I am, she saw me as a precious baby, crying for my mommy, crying for a woman like her. She doesn't understand! Don't lie to me! I know I deserve love, unconditional love, it's just finding the woman who won't leave me.

Baby,

It's her.

My mommy.

She's here. I need to be close to her. I need to feel her skin on mine. I need my mommy.

She's not the one Oliver, it may have felt good but it didn't feel right. She didn't enjoy it. she didn't want you. She would rather be dead than be with you. You could see it on her face the whole time. The longing to be away from you. You don't need her Oliver, get rid of her. Do it! Think of Eva, she showed promise, more than Lana ever did. How did you expect Lana to ever love you when she loves women? She's sick, more sick than you are. None of your cures worked. How foolish were you Oliver? Did you think she would stay with you and be your mommy? No she tried to leave, and she will never stop trying. But Eva wouldn't. She would understand you, she's a psychiatrist like you. She has dealt with people in worse mental condition than you, shown them compassion, generosity, love. That's what a mother does Oliver, that's who a mother is, a mother is Eva.

I'll talk to her, explain the situation make it as painless as possible. Strangling would be preferable, less mess than cutting her throat, but I will give her the option anyway. She may not be the one, but there is no need to make her suffer. What happened was wrong, and I need to correct my mistake. It was my fault. We've reached an impasse.

She always looks so frightened? She never understood I wouldn't hurt her. What am I saying? I could just put her out, then it wouldn't matter, she wouldn't feel a thing. She'll go willingly, poetically in my arms.

Stop fighting,

Stop fighting,

Stop!

Fighting!

She'll be reunited with Wendy, then I will be free, free to continue my work. The sooner I get rid of Lana the sooner I can have Eva.