Scribblings from the Asylum Walls

Robert by RinOctoberWolf

“Your name is Robert, Robert Bae.”

 You have to repeat it to yourself…

 “Yes, that's right! Robert Bae!”

 You remember now, it's all coming back to you.

 Your name is Robert Bae, you're 32 years old.

 You live in upper Manhattan with your wife, Stacey.

 Yes, the same Stacey that's spread across the floor boards of your apartment.

 She’s dead Robert...

 And that's right, you killed her.

 You killed her along with that damn Hector!

 They deserved it though; of course they did Robert…

 To think, Hector, your best friend, going behind your back with your wife!

 Weren't you surprised when found them embracing in your living room? Aren't you surprised that you didn't notice it sooner? The way they looked at each other, the way they talked to each other, like it was some kind of fucking game they were playing!!!

 Yes, they got what they deserved.

 They deserved to die.

 But, even now, as you stare at their stiff corpses, feeling the pool of blood surrounding them soak though your leather shoes, seeing the shadows cast from the fireplace dance across their frozen looks of terror, you’re still not satisfied.

 You've remembered everything now Robert, how you came home to find them kissing in your living room, how you grabbed the reading lamp.

How you struck the backs of their heads with the base of it and hit them over and over and over...

     You're panting Robert, you better calm down.

 The sudden noise of the phone ringing startles you and you lurch to grab it. Voice on the other end of the line is eager and excited, painfully oblivious to the murders you have just committed.

     “Hello, Stacey? It's Martha, I'm sorry to call so late but I've forgotten what time I should be at your house for the Christmas Party today!”

 The Christmas Party! You've completely forgotten Robert!

Sweat forms on your brow; your breath becomes shallow and shaky. You swallow hard before quickly replying. “Martha? It's Robert, I'm sorry, but Stacey can't come to the phone right now, she's... preoccupied.”

     “Oh, well, as I said, I just need to know what time the party starts.” She sounds disapproving, but then again, she was never very fond of you.

     “Just come at 10:00!” You blurt out and then quickly hang up. But you immediately regret the decision. What did you mean by 10:00?! How on Earth are you, Robert, going to dispose of these bodies by 10:00 when it's already 7:00?!

 You run into the kitchen, the most likely place to hide the bodies, and spy the meat locker.

 Yes! You can hide them in there.

 You rip open the lid and peek inside.

 Dismay fills your face; the meat locker is already filled to the brim with frozen packages. Still, you try to keep your hopes up. Maybe, yes maybe, if you cut the bodies up, maybe then they'll fit into the locker.