The man spoke slowly, "hmm.. how about a little warmup? For a good taste on what you're gonna deal with." I'm not sure whether to be confused or scared. No, I'm horrified. "Warmup?" I asked with caution. There's only so much a stranger could ask from a single person. I never even got a full context. I don't think this is how employment works. What if they ask for a face to face meeting?! I never even got an address for this job. Nor a name from this "employee"
I got up and put on a robe my mom got me before I moved. I sighed and said in hesitant agreement "what do I do?" The voice spoke, still raspy and low. "Good, you're willing. Now, grab a classic kitchen knife." I didn't ask questions anymore and just shuffled through my cabinet for a knife. I held the knife in front of me, seeing my reflection. "Okay, what now?" I hope the request is to cut a vegetable or something. No harm done with that. But I should lower my expectations. This is a risk doing this in general. I should really stop.
The mysterious identity spoke. They were suddenly more raspy sounding. "cut off a finger." no way this is an actual request. "NO! Who do you think I am to cut my own finger?!" I couldn't stay calm. I'm all shaken up and tense. As my heart beats rapidly, I calm down to listen to what this psychopath has to say. "Fine. go to the park and i'll tell you what to do." The voice hung up the phone, giving me a few minutes to breathe. I didn't have much clothes so I just went out in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. At least I have clothes I can go out in.
I stepped outside to encounter a homeless man sleeping on a bench, shivering in the cold. I had the knife with me in my hands, I felt like I still needed it. "If you don't cut your finger off, cut a stranger's." the voice suggested. I looked at the man, then at the knife. I feel so bad. He was just sleeping in the place he could. I looked around to see the clear park with only me to breathe in the cold air.
I closed my eyes and braced myself for what I was about to do. Holding my knife in fear. My hands are shaking, I couldn't believe I was this desperate. SHK! In the blink of an eye, my hands were splotched with red, as the index finger of the man dropped on the floor. I tried to hold my gasp. I hope the police won't come. I couldn't explain this, they'd think I was insane. I think I am insane. Insane enough to cut a man's finger.
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HorrorA college dropout gets an odd phone call. She picks it up, and now has unfolded a gut wrenching truth.
