Turenne calmed himself and smiled, "I love to hear the screams..." he said. He had asked the inmates what they did to get here, not hearing anyone's answers he decided to talk. "The screams of pain and fear excite me, they calm me...they make me...happy." He smiled as he recollected all his murders. "I remember when I was at school...i was bullied by a large boy with a nasty mouth and violent temper. He was the first one, the first one i wanted to kill. One day i followed him after school. He made it to a block or two before his house when i got him. I used a head lock my father showed me. I was quite, he didn't hear me til i had him locked in. He squirmed and fought but he eventually passed out. By the time I dragged his fatass to my shed i was exhausted, but I was still determined." Turenne smiled wider. "His skin was greasy and pale, I took a knife and played connect the dots on his face with his zits. He screamed and yelled. I watched the blood drip from his face...i felt so...giddy. I began to cut more and more, his skin was my canvas and I was an inspired artist. He screamed and begged as i watched him cry and bleed. I carved into his torso, he was so large i saw fat cells drip from the gash i caused. I found it interesting. He begged for mercy, so many cries of 'God help me' and 'save me, jesus, save me' i merely laughed. In my heaven, there is no god, and this was my heaven...his screams where like gospels. I felt so powerful and...so enlightened. From that day I made more and more people scream." He laughed hard at his story. "Who else wants to share?" He asked licking his lips faintly.