Thin silver slips between flesh, each centimeter becoming coated in the violently red blood that pours forth as sinews snap beneath that sharply hewn blade. Muffled groans paint the air like the melodies of love-making and they are just as intoxicating to my ears as I trace my designs within her supple tissues. My blood rushes through my veins, flooding my synapses with adrenaline--the most beautiful product of the endocrine system. I am sure her blood is drenched with it as well, as it swells forth from the slim slices and slips from the edge of the glaring metal table to pool toward the drain in the floor. With sure fingers, I make my final cut, connecting the perfect ‘V’ on her chest with one final line down the center of her abdomen. Creating a ‘Y’ that spans the length of her torso. For just a moment ecstasy floods me and I know that there is no feeling quite as wonderful.
NO! There! My eyes snap to the incision just beneath the lowest ridge of her ribcage and I drop the blade on the table near her head. It triggers a low groan as my fingers begin to trace the broken flesh. Just below that ridge the incision veers fifteen degrees to the left, rage bursts behind my eyes and my hand snaps against her left cheek, whipping her head sideways against the table.
“You mindless whore!” My voice reverberates off the metal drawers covering the entirety of the Southern walls. As she whimpers on the table I stand there in silence. My chest heaves and I work towards slowing the rushing pulse of my heart. Self-loathing and the need for destruction surge in the back of my mind.
My mind whirls and spins. Nausea lifts in my abdomen for a moment at the thought of anyone seeing my work. Panic needles at the underside of my skin, they couldn’t understand. No one would understand. The need burns like a fire at the center of my being and it spreads warmth through the muscles of my body. Worries and stress sizzle under the heat of that need, dissolving into the background once more. With each long, slow breath my mind returns to normal, the shaking of my hands subsides.
Next time, next time, next time… My mind runs on repetition as she squirms, bleeding before me. The tips of my strong fingers slide under the severed flesh and I pull back the muscles, adding slightly more effort in order to snap them free from the ribs. Quickly, deftly, my hands remove the other two sections and she releases a half-hearted scream as the upper section comes to rest against her chin. She can’t do much more with the drugs slogging through her body.
As her chest connects with her face, tears course down her cheeks. She screams and the nightmare disappears for a moment as her mind drifts off. Afternoon sunlight slips between her bathroom blinds as she swipes mascara across her lashes one last time. Giddily, she grins at her reflection; this will be her first actual date in months, and it’s with a doctor! Taking a deep breath she soothes her rushing heart. Even if she’s not ready for something serious, it will be nice to get out for a little while. Her eyes catch on the Smirnoff bottle on the bedside table and she shakes her head, turning back to the mirror. The next hour flits from her grasp and as the time draws near she fidgets with her long platinum ponytail nervously. Suddenly a shrill noise cuts the air...the doorbell! He’s here! Standing before the door for a moment she straightens her clothes with an anxious smile before flinging open the door with unintended exuberance.
A gasp nearly escapes at the sight of him, ‘God, a doctor and he’s hot? Where did this luck come from?’ Immediately a pink flush warms her face as she takes him in. Oh-so-long muscular legs encased in distressed denim come together in narrow hips which feed into a slim, light-blue-button-up covered torso that she just knows is well-defined. Her lips are suddenly dry and she can barely bring her eyes to his face but when she does, her mouth becomes a desert. A strong jaw holds itself high and the smallest of dimples reveal themselves within his cheeks as he smiles, flashing some of the whitest teeth she’s ever seen. His nose is strong, angular, Romanesque, and rests perfectly between his almond shaped ice blue eyes. Topping it all is dark brown, relatively short, hair which he’s styled just so. When her eyes finally reconnect with his own a sheepish smile tilts her lips just as he speaks with the tiniest bit of a Southern accent. Her heart threatens to stop dead.
“Heya gorgeous, I’m Daniel.”
I rest against the next table while she is passed out, she really looks lovely all opened up and a small smile twitches up the right side of my mouth. As she awakens I draw near again, checking her pulse first and slowly removing the gauze from her mouth. That whispering mass in the back of my mind creeps a little louder and I have to shake them from my attention before I can bring the words to my lips.
“Ya alright honey?” My voice is gentle near her ear but all I get in response is a whispered, ‘Why?’ Shaking my head I replace the gauze and sigh. My hand slides down her arm and captures her hand, I draw it to my lips.
“You are a beautiful woman, I just have to see if your insides are as well cared for as your face. I can’t have someone in my life who doesn’t care for themselves,” her muscles flinch away from me, in so much as they can anyways. I set her hand back on the table, it is covered in her blood, which I know is now on my lips, but I can’t help smiling at the beauty of it.
With measured motions I begin my inspection. Her heart thumps slowly, steadily, within the confines of her ribcage. My fingers softly press, following the twists and ridges of her intestines, as my fingers move slick interstitial fluids coat them. I feel the corners of my mouth slide just the tiniest bit upwards at the healthiness of her tissues; at least she has done well in this regard. Perhaps there is hope yet. The minute hand on the clock continues its eternal journey towards the finale of the human race as my body moves through the motions that it knows so well. It isn’t until my fingers gently grab the liver that my utter disappointment returns; it is one of the worst I’ve ever seen.
“Oh darling, you’re an alcoholic? I can’t with someone who taints their body so willfully, and so heavily,” I speak slowly, ensuring that she hears every note of my disappointment. Tsk-ing my tongue against my teeth I hear her whimper as I pick up my scalpel and press it against the most proximal edge of her aorta. Each thump of her dulled pulse lifts the blade higher.
“I think our time here is done.” I shake my head at her as she attempts screeching through the gauze.
“Come on now, the theatrics are a bit unnecessary…”
“Lenora,” She smiles, holding her hand out towards him, it is slender but his hands are nearly as delicate as they surround hers. It must come with being a doctor. Euuuuugh, the thought of those hands covered in blood causes her to cringe as she pulls back.
“So, uhm, where are we going again?” She asks softly, her voice rising slightly as she places her hand against his arm and closes the door quietly behind herself. Her body brushes against him. Men usually love it when she does that, but he inches away. She huffs to herself at this small rejection but turns a sugary smile toward him, waiting as her eyes make promises she would love to keep.
“Mini-golf, that alright?” His mouth quirks on one side and she licks her lips in response, finally forcing her eyes up to his. He holds an arm out to her, she nods and they’re one their way. The night floats by before her eyes in a haze and he doesn’t reject her advances even a single time more, her ego swells once again. She decides she’ll still take him home and so at any chance she brushes against him. Shoulders here, knees there, a hand drifts over his forearm just before he swings. Her smile is quick to come but her spine crawls a little when he talks about his job.
He seems so into it, but trying not to be by appearing falsely nonchalant, she responds as minimally as possible in the hopes that he’ll move on. Finally they finish, she wins, and he offers to buy her a soda as they leave. He’s driving her home when her headache starts. The streetlights wobble before her eyes and she closes them for just a moment to wash away anything that might be in them. When she opens them they are on a street she’s never seen before and she feels worse for wear than even on her worst nighttime bender.
“Where...where are we?” Her voice feels like molasses on her tongue, “What’s wrong with me?” He remains silent in response and her vision slowly faces until she’s trapped within the confines of her own fucked up head.
My lips are pursed as I watch the blood pour from her severed aorta and into the open areas of her chest cavity. It is so dis-heartening to have failed again. I’ve tried so many times to find the perfect woman. These women keep getting my hopes up only to completely destroy them on close investigation. How is a man supposed to find a woman in this world if they keep destroying their beautiful bodies? Grabbing a nearby tool to silence the voices I snap her ribs, opening them up so that I may inspect her lungs. Pink, slippery, no clear signs of abuse...At least she wasn’t a smoker.