It's been close on seven years since I killed the twins. They were 10 years old and mighty cute at that, and a lot of guys might have done what I did for all the reasons floating about in your head right now. Thing is, that's not why I killed the twins, but when I told the jury that, most of them wore the same smirk that you have on right now. You know, I never did let on why I did it, and that ate them right up. But I'd never killed two girls on the same day before. I got it figured that's the only reason I got caught. You see I always took my time about it, so they'd die nice and slow, yes sir, nice and slow. That's how my ma used to cook her pot roast. It's the only way to do it, she'd say, and I figured my ma knew what she was talking about cause she always served it up right tender.

Death has its tender moments too; happens right about the time the struggling stops. Not that I care if you believe me or not, but if you're wondering why I'm telling you this, hell, I ain't got nothing better to do except lay here and kill time, if you'll pardon the 'chair humor'.

I've been here long enough to know that most guys would be on their knees right about now, bending the ear of whatever God they thought might listen. Thing is, I've got no doubts about where I'm heading. Only thing I'm curious about is whether the song'll keep playing in my head when the lights start flickering.

To be honest, I don't recall when I first heard it, although I suppose it must've been around the time I killed the first girl. I had just turned sixteen when I strangled Anne-Marie. It was the middle of summer and for the longest time I thought the heat played a part in why I killed her. Thing is, of all the girls, she was the only one I knew.

I was sitting on the riverbank, baiting my hook and cursing myself for inviting her along. Can't say it was her fault, though. My pa told me that men didn't bring womenfolk fishing cause their constant yapping scared the fish, but when I told her that, instead of talking the hint, she got louder.

Anne-Marie hadn't been in town long, but I knew her well enough to know she wasn't much good at doing two things at once, if you get my meaning. So to shut her up, I asked her if she had ever heard a song playing in her head before. That must have made her think, cause she gave me a funny look and for a while she sat there nice and quiet. But then she asked me why I wanted to know, I told her about the song, you know, the one playing in my head. Well, damned if she didn't start singing it-although for the life of me I don't recall telling her the song's name-and for a while if was funny as hell cause she knew the words better than my brain did. Nothing might have happened if her voice hadn't sounded like a cat being pulled through a wringer.

The song cleared out of my head right about the time she stopped singing. I took my hands off her throat and watched her body float down the river, but I wasn't really seeing her, nossir. I was inside my head poking around, if that makes any sense, searching about for the song.

It took me a while to figure out that killing Anne-Marie was what silenced the song. It's when the breathing slows and my fingers loosen that the world returns to normal. Not that I pull my hands away, just in case it isn't over. I just slip them off the neck, nice and slow.

Now some days weren't so bad, but there were other days when all I could do was lay in bed with a pillow stuffed over my head to muffle the sound of my screams. I took work that kept me on the road and changed jobs about as often as folks change underwear. I stayed in small towns mainly, and never hung around long after a girl disappeared. And if you're wondering why I've kept quiet about it all these years, take a look in the mirror and you'll find the reason reflecting right back at you. I mean, who would I tell? Who in their right mind would believe me?

It wasn't until the priest started telling me how confession was good for the soul, how it would save me from eternal damnation, that I had a good laugh, yes sir, a real side-splitter. He didn't know that I've been living in a hell on earth for as long as I can remember, and that I really couldn't imagine the devil doing much worse. Still, when he left, I started wondering: what if the song followed me? I sure as heck don't want that to happen, so I began thinking of a way I could get it to stay behind and worry some other poor soul. It's worth a shot anyway. Heck, I got nothing to lose by trying.

Now I didn't tell you the name of the song for the same reason I'm telling you to cover your ears when the warden comes to take me for a walk. Not that it matters much, not to me anyways, but I'm going to start singing then. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, you don't want to hear the words, not a single one if you can help it.