Colors of the Heart
Why would you ever do something so horrible and monstrous? Don’t you have a heart? Your being is loveless; your soul can’t feel anything. Your conscience is blind and deaf to your sinful actions. You deserve no forgiveness, for a monster lies inside of you. Woe to those who are attracted to your beauty, for they’ll only find death in your welcoming arms. Shame on me, for I drove myself to your love that kills. But I did not know your true self. I walked into an angel of light, not knowing it was the devil… Now I am trapped in the cage of your heart, feeding my joy with your obsession.
Why?
I had no other option, my love. That was my only way of getting what I really wanted. Its color produced an overwhelming feeling on me…a feeling of ecstasy. I took away so many lives just to satisfy my twisted obsession. I didn’t care, and I still don’t mind. Why would you ever think of it as unfair? Everybody wants something, and they are willing to do anything just to get it; so why do you blame me? Is it wrong if I desire that something so strongly? I am a human; I can’t help feeling that tickling sensation whenever I see it. Seeking my satisfaction is my main goal.
Elizabeth Elend Sykes, an innocent looking, beautiful twenty year old woman, possessed a unique mind, full of grotesque, yet amazing thoughts about the human life and its main engine: blood. Beth, as she was called by her loving husband, had killed, tortured, and mutilated the equivalent of 50 victims; she did all this without her husband knowing or suspecting anything, until one day, one gloomy day. What he asked himself was why did his wife have so many cans of red paint - even though she was known as the ‘red artist’; but so many cans of paint was just insane. Yes, she would use the blood of her victims to create her once famous ‘Red Paintings’, not to become popular, but to preserve the color that caused such an anxious sensation in her.
How could this happen to me? I just wanted to love you; I was just longing for someone I could share my life with. But no, none of that can happen now. I was damned with your lovely existence. Blessed with a curse was my soul. However, my heart’s love for you has not changed, and it won’t.
I love you too, James. My feelings for you will never change. Even though you left me, I forgive your betrayal. I still don’t understand why you chose to leave me, for we were so happy together. I guess you were not so pleased with my choices. But I can’t blame you; not everybody has to feel such an overwhelming attraction to me. I wished none of this had happened, but I can’t be helped. I wished I could still lay in your loving arms, and hear those caring words you would whisper in my ear. This is all your fault, James! Why did you have to go? Why did you have to break my heart in such a careless and tragic way?
Elizabeth and James had been married for five years, basing their relationship in lies and personal secrets, secrets that would later break their lives apart.
It was a sunny day, like any other day in Dallas. James went to work and Beth stayed in their house, doing chores, as usual. That night he wished he was never born, for the horrors he witnessed haunted him for the rest of his life. A feeling of despair and a bit of boredom drove Beth down to her secret ‘place’ in the basement. She suddenly felt happier, full of excitement and eagerness. The room was big and dark. There was a rectangular table placed in the middle of the room, and its metal surface stained with dried blood. All types of weapons were attached to the walls, most of them were used to provoke a slow and painful death. She was happy, surrounded by her little paradise on earth.
It was afternoon already, and James was heading home tired and in need of a whole-day nap. But he would have never imagined what awaited him at home, something that would crack his soul until the end of his existence.
It was 5 o’clock in the afternoon; James was just two blocks away from home, and Beth was still enjoying her bloody meal. It was so inevitable; the truth had to be revealed at some point, and this was the perfect occasion. The tired body of James entered the house and threw itself on the couch. He started calling out for his wife, wondering why she had not yet come and greet him like she always did. She did not answer. She was too busy to hear her husband calling her. When he had enough strength, he decided to search all over the house to see if she was even there. She was nowhere to be seen. But the basement; he never thought of going down to the basement. Surprises, surprises. Everybody loves surprises!
He opened the door, and one of the most shocking and disturbing images stood in front of him. There was Beth, standing next to the stained table, with a bloody knife in her right hand and a can of ‘red paint’ in the other. Two female corpses were hanging by their hands on the wall. Their stomachs were cut open and blood was still dripping. Another one laid on the table; it was the body of a young man, not older than 25 years. This one was clearly more fresh; it was obvious that it had been recently killed.
“Bbbb-Beth?” James stood motionless in the doorway, wishing all this was just a bad dream.
“Hi, honey,” she said, as if nothing was happening, still holding the knife. She tried to get close to him, but she only received a negative answer.
“NO! Get away from me, you monster!” He ran up the stairs and tried to grab the phone, but she was already behind him. Call the police, he thought, you have no other choice. He tried to, but her eyes begged him for pity. She looked sorry, but he knew deep inside nothing good was to come out of all this mess. That night he couldn’t sleep at all. Just thinking that he had been living with a demented killer made him want to disappear. That nasty scene wouldn’t leave his mind, and he just felt the desire to puke.
The next morning was a living hell for James. He looked at her face trying to decode her thoughts, but it was impossible. She seemed so calm and happy about everything, and he just couldn’t understand how she managed to feel so good. Several days passed, and James just couldn’t take it any longer; the feeling of guilt that was buried deep in his soul was now taking over his mind. He couldn’t handle it. His next choices led him to the end of his miserable existence.
“Good morning, James”. He was sitting in the kitchen table when she woke up. It was the end, he knew. Her face was so radiant, full of love and joy.
A cold voice coming from a megaphone was heard inside the house: “We’ve surrounded the house. You can’t escape. Step outside with your hands on the back of your head, and we promise not to shoot”.
Beth’s face suddenly changed. It was the face of an angry killer. She, incredibly, grabbed James by his shirt and threw him to the cold kitchen floor. Before he could get back up she grabbed a big, sharp knife, preparing to stab her husband.
“Why?! I thought you loved me”, she screamed, with thick tears running down her cheeks. He had no answers for her. A sudden flood of anger took possession of her, so her actions were abrupt and remorseless. Huge drops of blood covered her face and body. It was already enough, but she wouldn’t stop stabbing his body. I’m done, she thought. She left the knife on the floor and sat next to the body, contemplating and touching the red that was spread all over the place. The metallic voice was still insisting, but they couldn’t get a response from her.
The police entered the house and took her, receiving no tussle from her; just stillness and silence. Jail might be interesting, she thought, maybe I can paint some more in there.
Jail was just another beginning; the beginning of her end.
