As I pushed my crocodile skin dress shoes further into his back he groaned. I shook my head at how pathetic he is and I push harder and he replied with another loud painful moan. He just doesn’t understand I don’t want to hear his disgusting voice. Again I pushed my foot into his back, now about 90% of my body weight is on his back, but I was still not satisfied. I give him the other 10% and I heard his back snap. Sounds like that always make me quiver.
My foot levers up and I smile. I take my foot off his back painfully slow and crouch beside him. His face is wet with tears, his eyes are red and his face is pale white. I pull up his tight blue shirt for a better look of his back. Just as I thought, his spine is dislocated. I smile to myself and I move so I was directly in front of him. I laid down on my stomach and stared into his eyes, he tried to turn his head away but he didn’t get far before a wave of pain rippled through his body. His eyes rolled back into his head and tears streamed down his no longer handsome face, onto the soon to be blood stained carpet. Now that he was paralysed I could get to work.
I walked over to the coffee table and put on one of my rubber gloves and picked up the serrated fishing knife. I ran my cold fingers along the serrated edge and a small bubble of blood formed on my finger, which I then covered with the other rubber glove. I walked over to his ugly body, and wondered what she saw in him. He looked up from where he lay and his eyes grew wider as he saw the knife being held delicately in my hand. Sweat rolled down his hair line and got caught on the lip of the duct tape stuck over his trembling mouth. I pulled the tape off, saliva was stuck to the sticky film. He mumbled and I strained hard to hear what he was saying. He mumbled again and my brain began to process what he was said. Why is what he had asked. I looked into his still teary eyes and thought about Jane. How three days a week she would walk through our apartment door and say the same excuse “sorry hunny I was asked to work back late” I would nod sympathetically, although once she was gone I would roll my eyes and curse under my breath. Jane would try to believe in what she was she was saying, although on other hands I knew that she was at some g shagging him. The same guy’s house I now stood in. The same guy I now stood over, staring down at, with a knife in my hand. I rolled my eyes at his thoughtless question.
I went to go stick the tape back on his mouth, but instead stuck the knife to his lips. His eyes again grew wide like a frightened horse as he pleaded for me not to do it, but I did it anyway. I pursed his lips open with the tip of my knife and in one simple movement his tongue lay on the floor and blood poured from what was left of his tongue. He tried to scream but stopped when he realized how much pain it caused and how much blood would splatter out. I picked up the pathetic pink body part and smeared it over his face in all my glory. Then I plied his mouth open with my hand and put the tongue back in there. I clamped his mouth shut and he squirmed around like a tailless lizard. I released my hand and he managed to spit the tongue out.
I crawled over to his back and put the tip of the knife to his purple back, only now did I notice how painful it looked. Good. I had to hurry I didn’t have much time before he bled to death. I began carving into his back. I have never been good at art but I couldn’t off been prouder with the finished product. I slid my hands down to his pant line, just like Jane would off done so many times before. I pulled off his pants and looked at the label. Levis, classy. I threw them across the living room. I then stripped off his underwear till I looked at his bare bottom. It was toned nicely and surprisingly tanned. It was just a shame it had to go. Again I began to cut, being very accurate about where I placed the knife. He tried to pronounce words but was met by pathetic moans and I continued cutting until I held two pieces of muscle once called his buttocks. I threw them over his head and blood splattered onto his face. He slightly moved but I could tell he was clearly growing weaker by the moment. I turned my focus back to his bony bloody backside. Blood poured out of it onto the carpet. I only had one more thing to do.
I put my blood soaked hands under his waist and then rolled him onto his back. He moaned so loudly I became worried someone would hear, but soon dismissed the though when he stopped. His breathing was sharp and fast whereas mine was calm and steady. He didn’t lie flat on the ground due to the dislocated bone which stuck up from his back in the ever most horrible way. I turned my attention to his privates, the one thing that contained all his manhood. I grabbed it with my hand and gave it a squeeze, another set of moans erupted. I was beginning to enjoy myself, this was delightful. I ran my knife vertically along the shaft and watched as thick blood streamed down the cut and then onto the carpet. By now he was muffled screams escaped him, but he was still to my mercy. I knew I had very little time left before he would quietly slip away. Again I placed my knife on his shaft but instead of cutting deeper I moved down to the base. I took a deep breath and slowly pushed my knife through the shrivelled up organ. His head thrashed around violently, like a crocodile taking down an unsuspecting water buffalo. I took the now removed organ in the opposite hand of my knife and looked at it. I thought about how Jane and how this pathetic thing would of entered her just the night before. I spat clear saliva on it, and it stirred with the masses of blood. I threw it across the room not caring where it landed. I heard a thud and it must off hit the cream wall of his living room. Then another muffled thud and I guessed it had landed on the carpet. Then I heard nothing but peaceful quiet. I looked over to my art work, I couldn’t see his face but I could imagine it wet and red. I pushed him with my elbow and there was no reaction but I could tell he was still alive as his chest moved, but there were long intervals between breathing, so he definitely didn’t have much longer. I stood up and paced over to the coffee table where I took of my bloody gloves and put them in a large zip lock bag. I then removed my bloody clothing and placed them in a separate plastic bag and put on some fresh ones. I put all the bags into my vintage backpack and headed over to the front door. I turned around and admired my artwork, I couldn’t wait to see him again. I took a deep breath and let a sinister smile creep out. Then using the sleeve of my jumper as a glove I turned the front door knob and took a step outside into the evening sun.
I sat on the modern futon couch situated in Janes and I living room. I checked the time eagerly, 7:30. I switched on the TV and flicked through the never ending channels, not nearly fast enough in comparison to my eagerness. I stopped on channel 7 and waited for the news introduction to finish. For the next 8 minutes I watched the top story all while a smile on my freshly shaven face. I knew it wouldn’t be long until work called, and to no surprise of mine 10 minutes later work called and ordered me to come in. It was the usual phone call to them, I was given an address and time to be there by and then they hung up like every other time. Although too me this was no usual phone call.
I turned the same door knob I had turned little less than an hour ago, wondering who had found him. My boss confronted me and babbled on with large masses of information which all just passed through me. I looked around the crime scene, my crime scene in a matter of fact. It all looked the same as I had left it except now there was yellow crime tape and it was crawling with people all with different occupations, including me. I crouched down next to my art work, it was no longer fresh but looking at it still gave me equal pleasure. I took my black leather note book out of my back pocket and held it in my hands, just above my crocodile leather skin dress shoes. Like all the other cases which filled the earlier pages of my note book, I gave this case a title. I scribbled down a few words and nodded to myself “who’s done it” I had called this case. I knew I was the only who would find the humour in these pacific words, so there wasn’t any danger to me in writing it. Again I placed my pen to the note book page. I didn’t get a chance to write before my phone began to silently vibrate in my front shirt pocket. I softly pressed the answer button and was instantly met by a very familiar voice, and an even more familiar set of words “sorry hunny I was asked to work back late”. Just like every other time before I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath. I ended the call and turned my still crouched body towards my boss “inspector Dylan looks like we have a serial killer”.
