A/N: This chapter's a little crazy. Enjoy, y'all. I don't own CM!

Chapter 13

Emily POV

I kept my eye on Sasha all the way to the prison, and from the prison to the small interrogation rooms. We sat in the dank room for what seemed like hours before the door opened.

Charles Manson in flesh and blood. He didn't look like Jesus Christ to me. And calling him the Devil wouldn't be correct either. Calling him the Devil would give him too much credit. He's just human like the rest of us. Maybe that was even scarier.

He sat down with the chains across his hands. I didn't know what to notice about him first. His scar on his forehead, his shorter (and less dark) hair, or those eyes that were known for being able to pierce into the soul. I wasn't afraid of Charles Manson. I was afraid of how he had such a large following. How people were attracted to the murderous philosophy.

I was awed by how little Sasha reacted to meeting her father for the first time. I couldn't believe how she could be so… emotionless.

"It's such a pleasure to sit down with you two beautiful ladies," Manson commented as he leaned in closer to us as if he wanted to breathe us in. "They wouldn't tell me why I have the honor to speak with you two."

"I'm Detective Tyburczy with the LAPD," Sasha told him, her voice void of any feelings at all. "This is Agent Prentiss with the FBI. We're trying to solve some murders. And we could use your assistance."

He laughed, causing me to feel unsettled. "It's finally happening, isn't it?"

"What?" I asked, hoping that he was referring to the copycat.

He turned his head to the side to look at me. He stared into my eyes as if he was trying to get a read on me. "What did your father do to you?"

I tried my hardest not to react. Manson was obsessed with fathers. He used 'daddy problems' as a way to get to his followers.

Ignoring his question, I asked, "Do you know who is trying to copy your murders?"

"Copy?" Manson asked, chuckling once again. "You're naive, woman. If you think he is only copying what I was doing, you are very mistaken."

"What do you mean by that?" Sasha interrogated, her voice becoming more commanding than before.

"Hmmm," Manson said as if he was pondering some great question. "Sounds like we both want to know things. How about we do a bit of a trade? I ask a question, you answer truthfully, then I'll answer a question of yours. How does that sound?"

I wondered if he read or watched "Silence of the Lambs." He almost sounded like Hannibal verbatim.

I didn't want to give into his terms. He just wanted to extend this conversation as long as possible. I predicted that he wouldn't answer any of the questions truthfully anyway. I was about to say no when Sasha butted in.

"Deal. What's your question?"

I tried to not let Manson know that I was annoyed with Sasha. She just made a wrong decision. But I wanted him to think that we were on the same page.

"Delightful," He turned to look at me and said, "What did your father do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Liar."

I didn't know how to reply. Manson was known for seeing through people. I wasn't into the idea of explaining something so personal to a known manipulator. But I also didn't see any other options. If I was the one that prevented this case to be solved, I'd be full of unhealthy regret.

I cleared my throat. "My father was rarely home. He didn't like the father or husband role. He paid little attention to me at all. But then I started… to look more womanly. He started to give me gifts and took me on outings. My father started to touch me. He... did it consecutively until I was fifteen. When I was fifteen, I fought back. He stopped coming to me. He stopped paying attention."

He didn't react to my story. It was as if he was unsurprised about the whole thing. Either he guessed what happened to me or he was used to these stories.

"And what did your mother do about it?" Manson asked.

I shook my head. "That's another question. You have to answer one of ours first." He nodded so that I could continue. "What did you mean from before when you said that whoever is committing these murders isn't copying you?"

He smiled eerily. "What I mean is that no one is copying what I did. No one could. There is only one me, Agent Prentiss. This new man, he isn't trying to be me. He's trying to finish what I started."

"He's trying to start a race war?" Sasha asked him.

Manson shook his head. "He's igniting Helter Skelter." He turned back to me. "What did your mother do?"

"She didn't do anything. She knew it was happening. And she did nothing," I admitted, trying to stay as calm as possible. I never told anyone that. And now Charles Manson knows.

"Charlie, do you know who is the new leader of this new Family?" Sasha asked him, trying to help get the attention off of me.

His eyes still stared into mine, even after Sasha asked her question. "Are you a homosexual because your father touched you?"

I felt bile rise up my throat. I almost wanted to leave the room at that moment. I was beyond uncomfortable and angry. Holding in my rage, I snarled, "Answer the question first, Manson."

He moved his head slightly so that his attention could be on Sasha. "You're protective of her. She isn't just a colleague, is she?" After Sasha glared at him, he answered, "I don't know his name. I don't know where he lives. I don't know who is apart of the Family. Every letter I got was signed by a different name."

I tried to not look disappointed. But, of course, I wasn't sure that he was telling the truth, but if he was, things weren't looking good.

He switched his attention back to me. "Have you slept with a man after you your father sodomized you?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

Sasha asked him, "Do you have letters that were sent to you?"

"I have a few," Manson murmured with an odd expression on his face. "But what will I get in return?"

"We both know there is nothing that I could offer you, Charlie," I explained, annoyed that I had to tell him that. "So what do you want?"

"I want…" Manson whispered as he stared into my eyes once again. "I want you to tell me about the last man you slept with. And no lying."

I was utterly ashamed about the last man I slept with. Sasha thought that the last man I slept with was John Cooley. If only that was the case.

"The last man I slept with wasn't a good man. He was violent and harsh." I ignored Sasha's looks beside me. I couldn't mention that he was assigned to me. That it was a job. That was too classified. That was too personal. I kept eye contact with the cult leader.

"And how long were you with him?"

I squirmed in my seat. I hoped that answering all these questions were going to be worth it. "I was with him for almost a year."

"Was it rough?" His smile made me shiver.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes."

"Did you like it?"

I blinked several times before responding. He smirked, seeming to know my answer before I spoke up. "No."

He seemed satisfied with my answer. "You'll get the letters before you leave. Guard, I'm ready."

The guard helped him up and walked him to the door. Before Manson left the room, he turned back, his eyes piercing into mine, and said, "You are only a reflection of me, as I am only a reflection of you, Emily."

I didn't have time to reply to him. He left before I had the chance to ask him how in hell he knew what my first name was.

I turned around to look at Sasha. She didn't look angry about what I had admitted to the murderer. She looked disappointed and upset.

"That man is my father," Sasha muttered under her breath. "He didn't look at me even twice."

I didn't know what to say to that. How could I apologize for him becoming interested in me? How could I apologize for what he did to me? I remained silent. There was nothing that I could say.

Let me first say, I have never met Charles Manson. I have no idea if that would be how he would talk. I also don't know if he would be allowed to be interrogated. This is purely fictional.

Before any of you ask, the man Emily was referring to is Ian Doyle.

Thank you all so much for reading! Things are about to get a lot more crazy. The climax is coming up! Please review!