How old are you, Liesel? 

LS: Mr. Shipley, if you don’t mind, and I turned thirty-five earlier this year. 

You’re the newest addition to Culver State. How are you getting along? 

LS: Food could be better. There are some real characters walking around here. I see why society hides away the criminally insane far from the rest of the world. One second someone is your friend, and the next they want to rip your face off. I haven’t run into many problems so far, and the ones I have run into weren’t much of an issue. It’s an old hospital that feels stuck in the past. Chipped paint, cracked bricks, stiff mattresses, and there’s a ghost story for every room. Several patients worship this entity, or force, called the Divine. Other than that, this place beats the county prison. 

Do you regret what you did? 

LS: It depends on the day. Other than that, I have very few regrets. 

Which is your biggest? 

LS: I tried to be the best husband I could be. The most important thing a husband can do is to protect his wife: emotionally and physically. I failed, and I’ll regret it every day of my life. 

How long ago did you lose your wife? 

LS: Eight years ago. 

How did she die? 

LS: A man broke into our apartment while I was away… and… he killed her. 

How would you describe your time with her? 

LS: I could use a thousand words; she was a blessing, my saving grace, my best friend, the voice of decency, innocence, beauty, if such ideas could speak. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her. 

Inside a state hospital? 

LS: No, alive. 

Are you saying that her death had nothing to do with the crime you committed? 

LS: Can you imagine what such a loss does to the human mind? I lost the best parts of myself after she died, the parts she helped me find again after the war. There is no time frame on grief or even sanity. Her death played a huge part in what I did. 

Can you ever forgive him? The man who did it? 

LS: Never. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness. If anyone deserves anything, my wife deserves vengeance. 

Do you have any goals? 

LS: Avenge my wife. 

And how does one plan to achieve vengeance? 

LS: By any means necessary. 

What are you willing to sacrifice? 

LS: Everything. 

You mentioned the war. Did you serve? 

LS: I spent a year in Italy, and it was towards the end, so most of the fighting had already been done. I was younger back then. The first time I took a life was knee-deep in the Arno River. It sounds funny, but I think the hardest part about the war was coming home. 

How so? 

LS: It’s hard to explain. Over there I fought for my life; back home I fought for equality. I’m owed government benefits that I still have yet to see a dime of. Do you know how hard it is watching a person reap benefits owed to you simply because their skin is white and yours black? I struggled for a long time. I slept under a highway, and I couldn’t find jobs that paid well. The question was simpler overseas. Can my violence beat yours? Back home, I asked a different question: “Why them and not me?” Not only in the realm of veteran assistance but also in terms of fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it. Why is it that I came home unscathed, and others in pine boxes? Then I met Fiona, and she was patient with me, and I realized I had more than most people will ever have with her by my side. 

I want to hear more about you. What’s your biggest fear? 

LS: Currently? I don’t know; I’m pretty nervous about what the food around this place is gonna do to me later. Other than that, I think I lived through the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I fear failing. 

What’s the worst lie you tell yourself? 

LS: You asked me whether I could forgive her killer. It’s true that I can’t. Not if I lived for a thousand years. Fiona is dead. I have come to terms with that. I tell myself that she deserves vengeance, but in truth, it’s about me not being able to let go. 

Why do you think you can’t let go? 

LS: Maybe it’s just my nature. 

What’s your worst habit? 

LS: I can’t stop smoking for the life of me. 

That’s all? 

LS: I guess I’m a little too sure of myself sometimes. 

Who were your role models growing up? 

LS: Definitely my father. He worked hard to put food on the table. I come from a big family, but my father was the one who cared for me. He taught me how to be a man, to fight for what you love and love what you fight for. He passed while I was off in Italy, but even before then we drifted apart. My mother died when I was a baby. She was lynched. He didn’t talk about her much, and that always bothered me. 

Why did you and your relationship with your father fall apart? 

LS: I never said it fell apart. It drifted apart. He didn’t like my idea of going into the army, and it’s safe to say he was right. I had little else going for me in my life. I was stuck in a small town in Mississippi, and it was a chance to see a different way of life. Couple that on top of my frustration with little to no history about my mother, and off I was. I thought he was a hypocrite for preaching fight for love, but he never once fought for her after her death, at least not that I’m aware of— 

The chicken egg timer buzzed and rang with a ferocity that rattled the metal tabletop. Liesel puffed his last plume of cigarette smoke to the side and snubbed out the lit end into the ashtray. Guards lifted him out of the chair, and he gave them his wrist. With a clasp of iron, they escorted Liesel out of the room. 

If you enjoyed this interview or would like to see other characters subscribe to my newsletter to be the first to know when I post. Feel free to leave your own questions in the comments for future interviews with Liesel or for what you’d like to see next. As always I want to connect with you and hear about your works in progress. Everyone has a story, and yours deserves to be told just as much as anyone else’s. Take the first step and see where it takes you; who knows, you might write my next favorite story.