• Prologue: Nostalgia

    His name's Josh.

    He and Katie started at the beginning of last year, when she was a sophomore and he was a senior. For a while they were the “Perfect Couple.” Attached at the waste. Sharing thoughts like they were god damned telepathically linked. I even heard them finish each other's sentence once or twice. They liked the same music, same TV shows, same books, everything. It was sickeningly sweet how similar they were.

    Hell, there were only 2 things that set them apart. One was their genders, and the second was that he used drugs, and even that was, and to this day is, an extremely common occurrence in my school. The teachers and parents like to turn a blind eye to it, but the fact is that the only things you're more likely to find on the ground besides cigarette butts are goose s**t and used condoms. Separate, of course.

    Anyway, Josh's drug use wasn't a big deal. He'd keep it out of her sight for the vast majority of the time, and if Katie were to find him with a bong she'd do when she caught him masturbating, turn out of the room and never, ever, bring it up. After all, it was “true love.” What was a little bit of pot when it came to “soul mates?”

    So their relationship was great. They were in love and nothing could break them apart. Everything was peachy keen for her entire sophomore year, my freshman year. The whole thing was sweet enough to give you juvenile diabetes.

    Then came last summer.

    As you could imagine from high school, there's a ******** of rumors of exactly why the broke up. Some say that he finally got sick of her not putting out, and broke up with her when it became apparent that he wouldn't be the one breaking her hymen. Others say he fell in with some new guys and the drug thing escalated. There are others claiming that one was cheating on the other, but there's no one with any proof to back up their claims. It's all just gossip, lies being told in a believable way, eventually passing for truth and only becoming transparent when they face conflicting stories.

    For whatever reason they broke up, one thing was certain. Katie was heartbroken. She was hurt by the break up. Bad. She retreated into herself, away from her friends, started staying out more and more, and when she did show up it was obvious she was still closed off. Introverted depression at its best.

    Chapter 9:
    Anger surges through my mind. I feel the rush of adrenaline as I move. I follow my first instinct and go for the throat, my fist hits him right in the wind pipe. He stumbles back.

    I move quick. I know I have to hit him hard and fast, while I've still got the element of surprise. Josh has about 20 pounds on me, as well as a good 8 inch height difference to his advantage. Fighting him fairly will just get me decked.

    I move as fast as I can, this time trying aiming for his nose. He's faster.

    He gets my arm, mid jab, and twists it. Hard. Before I know it, he's got my arm behind my back. His first instinct seems to tell him the same thing, “go for the throat.”

    He gets me in a choke hold and squeezes. Lights dance inside my head, things start getting shaky. I know well enough that if I don't get out quick I'll black out.

    Barely enough air to breath, I jerk my head forward, knowing it's not enough to break his grip. But that's not what I want to do. Instead, I open my mouth, slam my maw onto his arm, and bite down as hard as I can.

    I've always had weird teeth. Most of my baby teeth are still right where they started out. In fact, I've only lost about 10 of them in my 15 years of existence. As a result, some of my adult teeth have come in on top of the ones they were meant to replace. Most of them have settled into place, but one, on the left side of my mouth, still juts out from the others, and it's stayed there for 3 years. When I first got it I even called it my “fang.”

    It's this “fang” that does the trick. It's a canine and I can attest from personal experience that it's sharp as a ********. It sinks right down into the skin. I even draw blood. It's tangy, salty, with a tinge of metal to it.

    He screams, taken aback by the bite. I take full advantage of it. The can of mace my Mom gave me is in my hand in a second and before he can blink he's got a face full of red-hot, stinging pain. His hands immediately go to his eyes, trying to get the mace off, but just rubbing it in.

    I don't waste any time. Learning my lesson from the last attack, I don't ******** around with a punch. Instead, I unlatch my belt, and before he can do anything, it's wrapped around his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter.

    I also learn from his mistake. He tumbles to the ground, hands tugging at the belt, but too weak from the mace to get it unwrapped. I use his position to my advantage, stomping on his gut to knock out whatever fight was left in him.

    I pull, tighter and tighter, seeing the strength in his body fading with every second. Just a few more seconds...

    There. His arms fall to the ground, limp, lifeless. His blotchy face had been straining in pain and fear, but now it loosens up, as his life is snuffed out. I continue to pull for a few more second, weary of a possible trick.

    Once I'm certain he's dead, I unwrap the belt from his neck, and my mind starts racing. I look around, searching for any possible witnesses. Nobody's around, it's a big park, and was pretty much empty to begin with. My first though is to leave the body, but then I see his arm.

    It's got my bite mark, right on the side. All the police would have to do is check the marks against the dental records and I'd stick out like a sore thumb. That means I can't leave him here. I've got to remove at least part of his arm, and that means I need to move the body before anyone sees it. I can't guarantee I'll have enough time to mutilate the body before somebody happens along.

    I crouch down, grip the body by the forearms, and start to drag it. There's some woods not too far away, and they'll offer enough cover to leave the body.

    * * *
    A few hours later, back in the woods. I've brought a few things to help with the body. In the time since I left the body I've been able to think up a few things to do with the body.

    I crouch down and start to move him, but it's slow going. The body's stiff and rigid, none of the joints will bend easily. Damn, I hadn't counted on rigor mortis.

    It takes a while but I finally manage to get the body out form under the cover of leaves I'd used to hide it. The leaf cover hadn't really been necessary, I'd carried the body deeps enough into the forest that nobody was likely to find it, but I'd liked the extra layer of protection. Peace of mind and all the s**t.

    I sling the bag off my back, unzip it, and remove the first tool I'll need. My dad's battery powered jigsaw. Before taking off the protective casing, I put on my dad's padded working gloves. These aren't that necessary for the jigsaw, but I want to make sure I don't leave any fingerprints.

    Grabbing a hold of his right arm, aiming for right below the shoulder, I flip on the saw and start cutting. The saw whirs up, loud, but not too loud, and it starts to cut through. There's no longer any blood flow in the body, so no splatter. The skin and muscle doesn't offer much resistance, but when I reach the bone I have to to use some force.

    I change my position, in case the saw breaks through when I don't expect it. I have to admit that my dad has a good eye for tools. The blade slips through with only a marginal amount of pressure, cutting through the bone like it's nothing.

    It's almost surreal, to be honest. I've seen dozens, maybe even hundreds of horror and gore movies, witnessed countless gallons of fake blood splatter on every conceivable surface. Yet none of it compares to the real thing. It's almost indescribable. It just the feeling of...reality. That it's really happening, that it's actually there.

    It takes only a few seconds to get through the other arm, and with that the arms or done. To make sure it can't be traced back to me, I hack up the piece of arm with my bite marks, making sure to pay attention to every minute detail, making sure it not a single inch of the bitten area is left unscathed. Thinking it might look suspicious if only one arm's hacked up, I do the same to the other. Best not to give the police or investigators any hints that I can avoid giving.

    Once the arms are done, I move my focus back to the body proper. The torso's the next canvas for the saw. I slit it open, taking a lesson from the school dissections I've done in the past and being careful not to puncture or damage in the organs.

    Once I've cut open a square of flesh from navel to chest, I peel back the skin. I'm regretting the gloves now, since I actually wish I could feel the skin. I'm guessing it's clammy to the touch, since it's been dead for a few hours.

    The skin gone, I start to pick out the organs. It's fascinating to see the stuff up close. Like I said, I've seen tons of fake organs in horror movies, and they've ranged from eerily authentic to completely ******** fake, but none of them ever looked this way. Maybe it's the smell that adds to the effect, pungent, thick, and unlike anything I've ever whiffed.

    I'm really enjoying myself now. This is the first time I've ever really had a nice long time to get the body just the way I want it. I get to play closer attention to the body, more time to take in every little detail.

    I start to take out the organs, on at a time, laying them to the side of the body. Once everything's as far out as it'll come, I cut the ends of the intestines and esophagus, leaving as little tissue as I can inside the body. Now it's time to for the last little bit.

    I go back to the duffel bag, replace the jigsaw, and open a side pocket, from which I remove a length of barbed wire.

    Before I came for the body, I dropped by my school. The fence near the football field has barbed wire at the top, so with a pair of my dad's bolt cutters I was able to cut a length of it. Being careful with the wire, and thankful for the gloves, I begin twisting and shaping the wire. After a few minutes I've got into about the right shape.

    A barbwire noose my seem a little cartoonish, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for theatrics.

    Once the noose is around the body's neck, the difficult part begins. Still being careful not to get the barbs caught on any of my clothing, I take the other end and, using as much aim as I can, launch it over a tree branch. I lobs over.

    Taking care, I grab the hanging end and begin to pull. The body rises up, shaking a little as I yank the wire. Now the practical side of me congratulates my more bestial mind for removing the organs and arms. Though I hadn't been thinking about it when I first started, taking out the stuffing had made the body a lot easier to raise.

    Once it's up High enough, I tie my end to to an unearthed tree root, making sure that the wire stays tight.

    It's getting dark, and my parents wanted me to be back before sundown, to keep me out of danger. The irony's palpable, isn't it?

    I take on last look at my handiwork. An armless, disemboweled corpse hanging from a barbwire noose, while it's arms and organs fester on the ground. It sort of stretches the idea of reality when I think about it like that.

    Savoring the completed picture, I turn away, walking off towards the sunset on the horizon, my only regret being that I can't see the shadow. I'm sure it looks amazing.