Like a Kid in a Candy Store

The Thirteenth Victim

My next victim. I found it. It's perfect. I am ecstatic to add it to my collection. Time and time again I find myself like a kid in a candy store, beyond thrilled at the notion of adding to my assortment of causalities. It's now my time to shine. I report to my patient that they are experiencing symptoms of dehydration, informing them that all they require is a regimen of saline. Or so it thinks. I walk out of the patient room with a grin on my face, knowing that it is not saline in that bag. Shortly after, a code blue is called. I rush to the room, knowing my plan is finally a reality. I attempt to perform chest compressions on it, but to no surprise, I cannot save it. It's as if that was my intention. 

"Time of death, 16:43," I call. 

I take it to the morgue for temporary storage, where I patiently wait for the precise moment to maneuverer the corpse to my car. And there it is, a time of silence, no human insight. I cautiously transport my victim through the parking lot and carefully transfer it to the boot of my car, ensuring to delicately wrap its head and limbs in bubble wrap. They must remain perfect. My victim needs to be perfect. I make my way home, beyond excited to dismember my 13th victim. I make it through the door with my victim in my arms. I'm ecstatic taking lives in my dungeon as if I'm as happy as a kid in a candy store. I lay my victim on the surgical table I previously prepared for it. I begin by severing the jugular once again, admiring the sweet, crimson blood pouring out from its body. Just as I do each time, I begin to dismantle my victim. Once again, dissecting the humerus from the scapula, and then separating the femur from the pelvis. Oh, the sweet, sweet, sounds of the bone saw carving around each joint. I carve around the top of the neck, detaching the head, the most beautiful object of all. I place the head on the ledge, followed by dangling the limbs off butcher hooks once again. Oh, how pleased I am with my growing collection. I adore it. I adore my beautiful assortment of heads and limbs. I adore taking lives, watching the lives slip away as they stare back helplessly. Now, I must await my next victim once again. The most agonising thing of all. But it is worth the wait. The wait is worth experiencing the pure joy of murder.