The Shape of You

"Coming to you live from Studio 5 News. I'm Andrew McEntire here with the Hernandez family whose daughter is the latest person to go missing, making her the 5th missing persons case this month. Juanita Hernandez disappeared five days ago on her way to work. No traces have been found of her disappearance. Mrs. Hernandez what would you like to say to her or her captor."
"Juanita, baby, come home. We miss you so much, please. Come home. And... And if someone has taken you, please give her back. Just return her to us. I beg you-"
I watch the television as I mute it, relishing in the sight of two parents pleading for their child's safety. I'm surprised the parents are getting news coverage, it has only been five days, plus she's a nineteen year old woman.
"Please," comes the sobbing behind me, "let me go. Please, I won't tell anyone."
I walk over to the sobbing woman, tears staining her dirty cheeks. Her hair's a mess and her naked body trembles with every sob. What a sight to behold. If only her parents could see her in this pitiful state.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, Juanita, don't you know a plea like that never works? Have you never watched a horror movie? I mean, do you really think I would be stupid enough to let you go? Anyway, aren't we having so much fun today," I question as I pull on my apron, the leather rubbing against my bare skin.
I grab the wood saw from the table behind me, walking towards her, listening as her sobs get more and more ridiculous. She sounds like a pig, so I might as well carve her up like one. Her hair is dry on my palms as I yank her head to the side; she lets out a yelp of pain.
"Shh, shh. You don't want to ruin my slices by moving around, do you? Because if a single slice I make doesn't turn out straight, I'll make sure you look like the rest."
It gives me such immense gratification as I watch her eyes turn to the four corpses in the corner of the room. Ah, the tingle I get down below to watch the fear take over someone's eyes. To imagine her body on top of the rest, her blood covering me as I go inside of her. Oh, but not yet. First I have to see how well she can do.
I keep her head tilted as I bring the saw up to her navel, and as I begin to pull the blade across her tan flesh, she sings. Oh, does she sing as she tries so hard to keep still. Ignoring every signal in her body that tells her to get away from the pain, away from the saw. The blood that trickles down her stomach and onto her legs until it pools on the ground below her. Satisfied with the length of the cut, I pull the saw away and drop her head.
"Hmm, hmm," I hum as I kneel down in front of her to examine my work. She trembles as I run my hand along the cut. It's wet with blood and covers my fingers, but nothing can mask the feeling of open skin.
"Oh, Juanita," I sigh. "I thought you were better than this. I thought you wanted to live for longer. But," I dig my fingers into the ridge on the cut, "I guess not."
"No," she sobs, "no, please. I-I want to live. Don't.. I can - I can do better."
As I stand up, I drag my saw up her body, listening to her screams, only stopping when I'm face to face with her.
"See, I don't think you can. But then again, I never did. You were always going to end up with the rest of them over there, this was just for fun."
I lower her in her chains until she's on her knees, so that her begging is more appropriate. I begin humming as I grab one of her feet and start sawing her ankle. I saw at her until her flesh is mangled and I can see her bone, then I move on to the next one. Her screams are getting quieter as she begins to lose more and more blood, so I leave her feet and instead go to her hands. But oh no, I don't cut those to ribbons, I need those. I drop the saw and grab a knife out of my apron, folding her fingers around it.
"Go ahead, Juanita, hold the knife."
"No. No, I won't."
I wrap my hands over hers until we're both holding the knife. Then I plunge it into her throat until her hands go limp beneath mine. I release the sigh I was holding in and pull the knife out, watching her head fall forward and the blood splat onto the floor. What a beautiful thing to connect everyone on this planet: the color of our blood. It's such a wonderful shade of red, so I always make sure to keep some.
I walk back over to the table and set down the knife, going for an empty jar that I cleaned out yesterday. After all, you don't want anything to contaminate the blood. So I place it under her neck and watch as it oozes into the jar, thick and hot. But I can't sit around all day, I have things to do.