Spenser sat immobile in the chair, no longer struggling against the bonds that held him there. He felt blank, numb with confusion and self-disgust. All his life, he had thirsted for knowledge. He'd pursued it relentlessly, reading, studying, gleaning every little bit of information about the world and about human behavior that he could, sifting it into order, trying to make the world make sense. His childhood had been a nightmare of chaos, but he'd found the key to order and security – knowledge. The more he knew, the more facts he had at his disposal, the safer he felt. He could rest easy, if only he knew everything. Knowledge was power.
He'd learned. He knew why criminals behaved the way they did, why they committed their crimes. He knew what multiple personality disorder was, and he even knew why Tobias had it. He knew Tobias was irrational, and there was no talking to him – no arguing with a madman on a mission. He knew the beatings would only stop when Tobias was ready to kill him.
He knew this murder was not his fault.
He watched the screens with a blank, dead stare, too overwhelmed to feel anything. He watched while the madman murdered an innocent couple in the name of God. A murder he was complicit in, no matter what he knew.
Knowledge was not enough.
He knew. But he would never understand.