I watch her blood drain, moving, and separating, like a river forking. Steady sounds of the gurgle of the drain is all that fills the air. What to do now? The basement reeks with the smell of black mold, so I could leave her here. No one would come looking or find her; she made more enemies that allies. These thoughts going through my head at a non-rushed pace as I don my gloves and pour limescale on the body. Her now rapidly decomposing body barely fits in my cheap trash bag. She's heavy too! God, put down the protein shake. What movie wants a would-be actress that 5'4 and 160 lbs, pure muscle, like 12% body fat? The trunk, thanks to her, is almost dragging on the road. Took an extra ten minutes to get to the bank. I call this place The Bank because it stores valuables - valuable bodies. In my profession, people donate their bodies to us for study and research. We ran short one body earlier today and I told them that I knew a person who died around a week ago who had planned on donating. A week dead body and 30 minute dead body look very different, so hopefully the limescale did its job. Popped the trunk open for the smell of decay to rush upon me. I grabbed the bagged body and soon had it lined up with the rest of the bodies, after I had replaced the black bag with the standard sterile clear plastic body bag. In the stretched dollar bag ,that held her body, contained excess skin, bodily waste, and some clumps of hair gathered at the bottom. All part of my scientific duty. Reached into my pocket to pull out some bugs that I had in a container, that would normally infest a dead body at a week or so. I sprinkle them on the torso to make it look as accurate as possible. The last part: removal of all identification. Sand the fingertips and the toes. Sand the palms and the soles. Use the index finger to scoop the eyes out. Soft and easy to squeeze between to fingers. Feels like peeled grapes. Do I have any grapes at home? Should buy some. Cut off the nose and cut out a triangular piece of bone that connects the eyes and mouth. What ID? Just another volunteer who couldn't be identified due to how they died. And, when they ask about my claim of a person dying and donating, I'll just point at a random body.
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Slowly Cultivated Killer
TerrorThe Bank. It's Life. Only because you're gone. I miss your -/b/l/o/n/d/e/-red hair ~ I love you. Forgive me. I'll send you gifts anytime I can