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Sometimes it's too late to talk it out. |
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The first blow came easy, anger and adrenaline doubling the strength of thin weak arms. The second was harder, blade sticking and having to be yanked out. The third strike was almost nonexistent, the thrill of the kill fading as fast as it had come. Blood was everywhere, covering the mangled remains of a face with one eyeball, the left, hanging out of its socket. Gooey brain matter had flown everywhere, but it didn't matter. Everything would be cleaned later, after the body was sawn to pieces and dumped in a trash bag. The bag was just for moving it, it being the body, as the pieces would be left randomly. They would be salted first, to dry them out and get rid of the smell, then they would be thrown away at gas stations or flushed down the toilet or even fed to the cat, assuming a cooler could be found. It didn't matter what happened now, running shoes and cell phone would be taken, implying something far less sinister. A car would have to be moved, just in case, but it wasn't vital to the plan. It could cause problems if not done right. But none of this was important now, the goal was to remove the organs, the dogs would eat them. Careful in cutting it open, didn't want to mess up. Everything was about not messing up, even the clothes and shoes, nothing to be linked to this. No one would ever know. Which was fine, not being an attention seeker had its benefits. Everything was perfect, now all that needed to be done was wait. |
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