Home at last. I have a house over looking the raging waters below. I like to think that my house is the honest virgin that found out her one true love doesn’t love her and so she stands on the towering cliffs, threatening to jump. It’s a beautiful site. Oh, and did I mention the house is also white. Virgin, white, get it? Oh, fuck you.nextSitting in my living room, or at least it should be my living room but I don’t know. I have no furniture except for a large king sized mattress in the middle of the first room you come across. Drinking a beer in complete and total silence while playing with the arm of a girl I killed a few months ago. Surprisingly the house does not wreak of death. I got this idea off the movie “Seven” to hang thousands of car air fresheners from the ceiling, in every single room. Oh, the reminds me. I must check on my roommate.
Have you ever seen that movie? The killer, whom everyone said was insane only I think he was a genius, slowly plotted the death’s of people based upon their sins. Talk about greatness! I’ve always wanted to be like that but I have sinned one too many times in my life I would just be better off hacking off my own dick and eating it. Lovely thought. Should give Chris a call later. Maybe we can… hang.
The carpet leading up the stairs are blood stained. Some new, some old. I really don’t care. But I can’t tell what the original color of the carpeting was. Like it matters. The first door on my right is the storage. That’s where all the fast kills go. I just hack them into thousands of pieces and throw them into that room. Every now and then when the flesh starts to rot, that’s when I just throw them off the balcony into the waters below. But I’m not headed in there today. I, of course, have to check on my roommate. She is a really big sweetheart only she doesn’t say much. I don’t blame her. If I had no bottom jaw, I wouldn’t talk either.
Her name is Karen. She was a model with a blooming career.
I knock lightly on the master bedroom door before I turn the knob. The stale air inside is so strong that the air fresheners have no affect. I stand back to help air out the room before I take a deep breath and enter. There is my sleeping beauty. Tied up to the headboard of a full sized bed, legs shackled to the mattress and the stink of death everywhere.
“Karen, I’m home.” I stand at the foot of the bed as her head picks up and shakes back and forth vigorously. Her eyes are covered so she sees nothing but darkness. Like she could see without it. I pulled out her eyes the day I left to go on tour. Her wrists are no more, only blood stained bones holding her useless hands up in the air. Her hair… I wonder where it went. She was now bald. A bald model? Isn’t Hollywood funny? I promised her that if she lived after five years, I would let her go, no questions asked. She’s survived thirteen months.
Her breast implants are sitting on the night stand, nipple intact. See, I cut out the implants, cut off the nipples and super glued them on. I think she looks better without them. Large sections of flesh are missing from her legs and huge scabs have sealed in the blood. My stomach growls a bit, noting that I am hungry. I lick my lips and think of something to eat. Barbeque sounds really good right about now. Picking up a bloodied knife from the floor, I start to cut into the soft, tender flesh of Karen’s legs. Her legs started wreathing under my strong grasp as I slowly (cutting her fast would cause less pain) remove three slabs of skin, including some muscle. I kiss her forehead before picking up my dinner and heading back into the kitchen.
Dinner was exceptionally good tonight. I must make a mental note of thanking Karen for such a great dinner. So tasty. I look out the window and notice the moon is high in the sky. Humm, a midnight walk sounds excellent right now. Better find my keys.