Tales Of The Macabre

Last door on the right

I never thought at twenty-nine I would be alone with a cat. Living in a big old house like some old spinster lady. My mother always said confidence was the key to survival, looks would only get me so far.

I mean, I'm not bad looking. I'm packing a few more pounds than I should be. But that's because food and loneliness seem to go hand in hand. I wouldn't call it fat, more voluptuous.

My work at the hospital takes up most of my time. It's the kids, they mean the world to me. My mother wanted me to be a doctor. I felt it would have been too much pressure, too much responsibility. That's why I decided to become a Paediatric nurse.

The kids are amazing. I love them all as if they were family. They make it all worthwhile. My little babies. I don't know maybe it's that maternal instinct in me. That’s why it makes it so much harder when we lose one of the kids. Other nurses tell me not to get so emotionally attached, but those kids need me.

I'm the light in the darkest days of their lives.

My mother was a very confident woman.  She was beautiful, with flowing, blond hair and emerald green eyes. It always drove my father mad when other guys would pay her attention. It would send him into a jealous rage, but my mother being my mother could handle his temper.

My mother always said I had her looks, but not her intelligence. She was right. My crippling shyness was a big problem. Men either thought I was weird and would walk away from me after they tried to talk to me, or they see someone vulnerable and try to take advantage. This happened more times then I like to think. People seem to think that because you’re quiet they can say or do whatever they want to you.

What people don't realize is that still waters run very deep.

Now I'm not saying there is no interest. There is this one guy Mark but I'm not sure about him, yet. He is very handsome and he did make me chuckle the first time he introduced himself to me.

The problem is there was a stage where I thought he was following me. I would conveniently find him places I normally wouldn't be. When he finally came up to me he gave me some half-cocked reason for bumping into me. He did seem genuine and he adamantly apologized for coming off as creepy. I will be honest it's hard for a lot of men to get a chuckle out of me, especially a stranger.

He texted me this morning asking for a date. But I haven't the courage to text him back. I hate going out. I’m so out of my comfort zone when I go to strange places. I usually end up acting so strange that they just up and leave.

Walking home from work all I could think about was Mark. Passing a dress shop I notice this new dress in the window. It was gorgeous. A beautiful pink dress with lace trim.

“I would look good in that. If only I had a reason to wear it” and I did. All I had to do was text him.

I buy the dress and summon the courage to text him and invite him to my house for dinner later that evening. 

Sitting on the couch my heart begins racing. I stare at the clock

. “He's late, over a half hour late. I must have freaked him out,” I thought.

As the minutes slowly tick by I hear the knock on the door. I try and compose myself. I open the door to him standing there with half his shirt tucked in, hair a mess and mud on his pants. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and a rucksack in the other. He smiles at me.

“I'm so sorry I'm late, please forgive me. Had a problem in work and I literally got dressed in the car on the way over, ” he pleads.

I chuckle in pure amusement at the thought of him getting dressed in his car.

He hands me the bottle of wine.

“The rucksack has my tools in it. You don't mind if I leave them here with me.”

Strange, but I thought nothing of it and I nod my head and gesture to him to come in.

About a half hour into the meal the conversion wasn't going anywhere. The awkward silence filled the room.
 
I sit quietly watching him eat his last bit of desert.

“I don't mean to be rude but can I please use your bathroom,” he asks.

I get up from my chair “it's upstairs last door on the left.

While he was upstairs I couldn't help but wonder what was in his bag and why he couldn't leave it in the car. I listen by the door as I look through the bag. As I rummage through I pull out a hammer, duct tape, and a Stanley blade.

“Strange, a carpenter usually has more tools than this, ” I thought.

As I'm holding the bag in my hand. I hear him walking around one of the bedrooms. I leave the bag on the ground and arm myself with his hammer.

I slowly make my way up the stairs to the landing. He steps out from one of the empty bedrooms and arrogantly dusts himself off.

“This is one beautiful house you got here.”

I look at him and smile  “is that so! well, let me show you around then.”

I walk him down to the last door on the right.

I swing open the door “this is my mother's bedroom.”

He steps into the bedroom and recoils in horror. As he does I hit him twice in the head with the hammer before he falls.

As his body jerks and spasms and he gurgles some incoherent babble, I couldn't help but notice his shoes were undone

“How rude.”

I hit him again in the head. Making sure not to kill him. I drag him down the hall to one of the rooms I had turned into a makeshift surgery. The benefits of working at the hospital. Also through the years, you learn a lot about the anatomy of the body from working with the doctors.

I strap him down to the table. Doctors weren't my only source of ingenious ways to torture and cripple. Films are a treasure trove of ideas on how to hurt and maim people.

I love the act of hobbling very effective way to immobilize the person. But it's only truly effective if you break the humerus bone in the arms as well. There's not much they can do after that.

Before I would just simply sever the spinal cord. It was funny to look at when they're conscious, But the bodies are really troublesome when trying to move them.

As I clean down his body with alcohol. I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

“Won't be long now my love.”

When you don't know what you are doing lobotomies can be very messy. Which I had to learn the hard way. I remember reading about a serial killer who would inject acid into the brains of his victims. For him, it wasn't effective since they would die shortly after.

I found the perfect amount of diluted Sulfuric acid injected into the prefrontal lobe through the eye, is enough to make them utterly and completely submissive.

I dress him in one of my father's suits and prop him up in a wheelchair I got from the hospital. I wheel him down to the last room on the right. I step into the room and wheel him over to the bed. I look down at the wrinkly, dried, skeletal remains of my dead mother.

“What do you think mommy, he is so handsome ain't he.”

I wipe the bloody drool dripping down off his chin.

“what's that mommy, no I'm not a dumb bitch and he won't leave me like the rest of them, ” I scream.

As I wheel the body of my last victim out of the room. I turn to my mother.

“I really think he could be the one.”