Autopsy of a Mind

"She remembers the parts where she watched the others die. She doesn't remember defending them and protecting them. She doesn't remember making the choice of not hurting the other victims when they turned on her. She helped the police rescue them even though she had been attacked by them."

The same doctoral student from before started to speak again. "Doctor Butler, I have read the transcripts. She had every opportunity to escape before that. She was untied for longer periods of time and she even dined with Alicia, if I am not wrong. I don't understand why she wasn't summoned in court!" the female exclaimed. 

"She had the opportunity to escape?" Sebastian asked stunned. "You're shaming the victim. Be careful," he warned. 

"No, I was in my graduate courses at the time and we dissected the case. I believe Victim 4 had a choice. She made the conscious choice to watch those people die. She could have helped them escape, but she chose to run away alone. Contrary to what you are saying, she did not help those victims. She was going to abandon them. It just so happened that she said some words that helped the police track her route."

I couldn't remain silent for long.

"A choice? What choice are you talking about?" I asked. My voice was louder than I anticipated. The room turned to look at me incredulously. They had never heard me talk in this tone. The doctoral student looked pleasantly surprised. A gleam passed through their eye. 

The need to show off. Right, I was not a graduate of their faculty but this kind of arrogance pissed me off. 

"When faced with a situation, we are met with innumerous choices from which we choose to pick up and stay with it. In this case, Victim 4 chose to stay back and not save the other victims. She also participated in the mutilated of the bodies post-mortem."

I nodded. "You're talking about infinite choice placed in front of a normal person. But in a situation of extreme power disparity, choices become obsolete. Let me put it this way. There is a finite number of choices that the person with less power can make. And these choices are not free to choose from, it is the ones given to the less powerful by the person in control." I paused, looking at her to see if I was making sense. "One can only reluctantly choose the better option."

"Yes, but what was the choice presented to her? Freedom and watching other people die?" she scoffed. 

"What makes you think that such a choice was presented? Victim 4 was made to have conversations with the other victims, getting to know them and assure them everything would be okay before the others were killed right in front of her. The choice of saving someone was given to her. Lack of compliance with the killer's plans would result in pain."

"Okay, given the choice between saving yourself and someone else, who would you choose?" I asked. My legs tapped against the floor. The other looked conflicted before answering. 

"Someone else," she said proudly.

"You took too long to answer," I replied with a small smile. "Okay, let me change the question, that was a hard one." I chuckled. "Given the choice, one of two victims will die. One is an old gentleman and the other a newborn infant. Who do you choose to save?"

Stumped for words, she answered. "Uh, the newborn?" she asked me. 

"Good. But what gives you the right to choose who gets to live?" I asked. "Just because the other person was older and had lived a full life, it didn't mean you should have chosen the child." I chuckled. "Also, why are you acting naive? Who said that the child won't die? Do you think the killer cares? In the end, everyone dies. You can only choose to extend someone's life by a few days."

"But she had the choice!" I scoffed. 

"Stop talking like a broken record. What choice? Where is the choice? When you have no power, you have no choice. The only way to make the other lose power over you is to not play the game." She was about to make a smart comment but I interjected. "And when you stop playing the game, what do you think happens to everyone else? They die. You die, too. You are no longer fun to hold captive. When you defy them, they get excited. When you comply, they want to torture you more. But when you stop playing altogether, you have no use for them any longer. You will be thrown away like trash."

There was silence. "I don't understand why you disregard these simple concepts. If you're so noble, then let me ask you a hypothetical question. Something that won't hurt you in the least." 

"Go ahead," Sebastian called from in front.

I nodded. "You are trapped in a room with a killer. The killer gives you a choice. He holds up two pieces of paper and asks you to choose between the two. If you get the right paper, he will let you live. Which one do you choose?"

The class looked baffled. Sebastian smirked. He must have figured out what I meant. 

"What is in those chits?" the student asked. 

"You don't know that. But you need to choose."

"The question makes no sense. If you don't know what is in those chits, how do you choose?" I laughed. 

"Exactly. That's what happened to Victim 4, right?" I challenged. "Now choose," I forced. I tore two pieces of paper and scribbled on it. I folded them up and held them up. "Choose," I repeated. 

"Right hand," she muttered with trepidation. I held it up and walked over to her. I handed it to her. She opened it, her eyes widening. 

"You survive," I said. I placed the other chit in front of her. She opened it and looked confused.

"It says the same thing," she said loudly. 

"Yes. It does. It doesn't matter the choice you made. You made the choice to survive. You didn't want to die. No matter how dire the situation is, in the end, we are programmed to do everything in our power to survive." 

"But it makes no sense!" She argued. "It makes no sense that she didn't try her level best to survive. She could have run."

"Victim 4 did run. She survived, didn't she?" I stared at her. "Why didn't she do it before? Imagine getting sliced up by a knife repeatedly, watching people die in front of you, and being forced to watch the killer eat their flesh. Imagine the killer pouring saltwater on your wounds... The pain is crippling." 

The woman gaped.

"You probably jump whenever a small cut on your finger comes in contact with water. But imagine being in so much pain that you don't need to fall asleep, you just pass out from it. Do you think you would be able to run?" I looked around the class. "We are unable to feel the pain of others. Therefore, we must not make assumptions about the degree of pain or the choices the person in pain made. What you should take from this class is that torture alters you as a person. You don't feel human anymore. You have no choice when all you know is pain. You don't even remember your own name."

"Evie is right," Sebastian breathed, making the tense air dissipate. "This class should teach you the horrors of torture. It should teach you to fight against it and never demonize those undergoing it. If you think you can blame the victim even though you are writing your doctoral thesis on victims of serial killers... please drop this class." The woman who had spoken up clamped her mouth shut. It seemed to be a direct attack on her.

"Time's up," Sebastian noted, looking down at his watch. "We'll meet again next week. Please take the reading material from Evie." He gave me a curt nod and left the room. As I organized the papers and started to hand them out, the rebellious doctoral student came up to me. 

"That is why you should never assume to know what happened if you are not in the scene," I said. "About her phone number... she wouldn't appreciate talking to you about the experience. You're definitely prejudiced against her."

The woman huffed. "I've spoken to Alicia Williams, you know? She gave me the details," the woman dared to scoff. 

"Yes, believe in the words of a serial killer who wants to appear like a good human being." I rolled my eyes. 

"You talk about me assuming things. But here you are. You've never spoken to Alicia or the victim but you can get away with assuming things. Talk about double standards." I mulled over the choice. In this case, I did have infinite choice. I was the one in power. For a moment, I savored the feeling. 

"I am not assuming anything. If you had asked Alicia who her least favorite captive was, you would know..." I paused for effect. "You would know her name was Evie Marie Lewis." I handed her the material and pointed her towards the door.

I hated seeing the look of pity in people's eyes. But this woman didn't have any pity. Just shock. 

"Oh, right. How do I set up a meeting with Alicia?" I asked. "We lived alongside one another for seven months, you see. You don't think she would reject my call, would you?" I asked. 

"Dr. Butler has spoken to her before. You can ask him," she said hurriedly before leaving. 

What a shame. She could have gotten an interview out of me if she had been nice and unbiased.