The Blood You Owe

I wonder what her blood tastes like. This was the thought that changed my life and sealed my fate. I know what your immediate assumption is, but it’s incorrect. It was never about some kind of pop-culture, vampiric fetish. I wanted her blood on my face and in my mouth, I wanted her blood inside of me, it was the only way I could be closer to her. However, ironically, the only way to be closer to her was to extinguish her life. She had to become part of me. Human nature, as I know it, doesn’t include a happy ending. Humanity is: dark, sick, twisted, disturbing and evil. Once you are ready to admit that everything around you is a complete lie, you are capable of doing anything you want, with no regret or fear. You must let go of your hopes and dreams.

After the long, soft, sensual kiss, I realized that I was on borrowed time. April would leave me. The only way to keep her was to absorb her life-force. I inhaled deeply as I pressed against her neck. Vanilla scented perfume mixed with her sweat to create her own intoxicating, unique fragrance. I leaned in for one more embrace as I dug the blade into her beautiful, delicate neck. I pushed my weight against her body, sending both of us collapsing to the floor. My lips were forcefully wrapped around hers to prevent screams, or gasps for breath. I kept my eyes shut, I wasn’t prepared to witness her expression, the pure terror, I assumed. After a few short moments, it was over. I felt the strength leave her struggling body as she submitted to the inevitable.

Once the struggle was over, my vision revealed the sight of her wide-open, shock-filled eyes. I placed my fingers over her eyelids and pulled them shut. It wasn’t like in movies, in movies people always put the palm of their hand over the eyes, and they seem to just shut. That was a lie, it took a bit of force to get them most of the way shut, and they still didn’t stay all the way closed. After her dead eyes no longer appeared to stare at me, my attention was focused on the dark red, almost black, blood, steadily flowing from the gash I created in her sweet neck. Her blood flowed perfectly onto my hardwood floor, creating an intoxicating little pool. April never looked more beautiful than when she was lying dead on my floor.

“You were too young to die, my dear,” I said aloud to April’s corpse with a slight laugh, as I stared at her lifeless body. Life is so unfair, isn’t it? Explain what had just taken place, all of you ‘good,’ church going Christians. Would you call this ‘God’s plan?’ Was it April’s time to die? Was this her destiny? Was this her purpose in life? Did she live twenty-five years, all to be taken down as part of my sick fixation? Did she mature, struggle, and learn just to die by my blood-covered hands? Did she get what she deserved? Answer me you stupid fucks! Everything is pre-destined, isn’t it? God has a plan for everyone’s life, doesn’t he? Would you say a God created me this way? Created me in his image? You’re not going to concede that, are you? You are going to blame the ‘devil,’ aren’t you? Am I possessed? Was my soul penetrated by a demon? It’s all just a cop-out, a technicality; you won’t admit your life is a complete lie. It’s always been a lie, ever since you were a baby and the pedophile priest made the sign of the cross on your forehead.

I got on my hands and knees next to April. I brought my mouth to her neck and inhaled a large drink of her life-force. The first taste was bittersweet and kind of sour tasting. I lifted my head and swallowed all that was remaining in my mouth. After a few moments, I went in for another drink. It was much more satisfying the second time, like a fine, warm wine. I had no regrets at this time. I was living in the moment. Her death brought me more happiness then her life ever did.

As I looked down at her, suddenly gray-tinted skin, questions began to pop into my mind as I planned my next step. How am I going to get rid of her body? Does anyone know she was here tonight? How long before someone notices that she is missing? How much of her blood can I save for later? Do I have any containers to keep it fresh? Does it matter if it’s fresh? Are all the curtains shut? Did she make any sounds before dying that someone could have heard? Do I honestly expect to get away with this? Do I want to get away with this? What about an alibi for what I was doing tonight?

First things first, what am I going to do with her body? Should I go to my backyard and dig a hole? What time is it? After glancing at the clock, I saw that it was 11:30PM. If anyone witnessed me digging a giant hole in the ground at 11:30 it would be pretty obvious what I was doing. Then again, if I was seen digging a large hole in my backyard at anytime it would be obvious what I was doing, right? What other reasons would someone have to dig a deep hole? It probably doesn’t take much to plant a tree. That was the only other reason I could think of. I decided against burying her body. Not because it would look suspicious, just because digging a deep hole sounded terrible. I remember digging a small hole to bury a guinea pig, and that sucked. I could only imagine how long and hard it would be to bury a human body.

One time on a television show, someone dissolved a body with chemicals. What kind of chemicals were they? On the show, the chemicals also dissolved the bathtub and made a huge mess. I guess it didn’t matter, I didn’t know what chemicals they were using anyways. I could research it on the internet, but what would I search? I could search, “dissolving a human body,” but then if there was any suspicion, I’m sure the police would search my internet history, that’d probably be hard to explain. These thoughts didn’t panic me. I actually enjoyed thinking about it, sort of. This problem solving was more meaningful than the majority of my life had been. I decided to move her body to the bathtub, since the blood was making kind of a mess, I hate messes. I don’t even like when my cat throws up on the floor.

Her clothes were bloody, so I removed them and put them in a plastic grocery bag. I’d be lying if I said her dead, naked body didn’t arouse me. I’ve had sex with her living; I wonder how different it’d be dead. The origins of many sexual transmitted diseases were caused by monks having sex with dead bodies. That wouldn’t apply here, would it? She just died, that must have been from decomposed vaginas, right? She wasn’t decomposed; it hasn’t even been an hour. I resisted the temptation and moved on. Her neck still had a small amount of blood trickling from it. I walked to the kitchen to find a container to gather her nectar with. I couldn’t find any cups or drinkable dishes with freshness caps. I opened the refrigerator to witness a half-empty, or half-full, if you’re an optimist, bottle of wine. I retrieved it, opened the cap and took a large drink. It was cheap wine, bitter, not very good. I walked over to the sink and poured most of it down the drain. I drank the last swig remaining and rinsed it out in the faucet.

I shook the bottle frantically to quickly air-dry it, and then swiftly walked back to April’s body. I pressed the lip of the bottle to her neck to gather my reward. It was no longer flowing like I’d wished. I began to gather the blood in my mouth and spit it into the wine bottle. I was no longer able to collect enough from her neck wound. I grabbed the blade once more and made an incision above her left breast. I figured the closer it was to her heart, the more blood would flow. I didn’t get the results I desired, it didn’t flow much. I guess it had been too long since her heart’s last beat. Using my mouth to gather the blood, I was able to fill most of the bottle. I screwed the cap on the wine bottle and placed it in the sink. The outside was covered in blood, I’d have to rinse it out later, but first I had to deal with the body.

I hooked her arms with my arms and dragged her corpse to the bathtub. I’m glad I don’t have carpet, which would probably be almost impossible to clean. I used to have a carpet cleaner that worked pretty well. Would it have cleaned-up blood? I kind of doubt it. One time I spilled a glass of juice and it took months to get rid of the stain. Even though she was a skinny girl, it still took a great deal of energy to drag her to the bathroom. Maybe I need to work-out more and build-up some muscle mass. Once she was in the bathtub, I realized I was out of ideas.

How much time do I have? Who would know she was here? She seemed to be kind of a loner, maybe no one knew where she was tonight. I know she lives alone, so there wouldn’t be a roommate waiting for her to come home. That left friends and family. I remembered she has mentioned her mother, something about how they didn’t get along well. I can’t remember her mentioning her father, maybe he’s not in her life, maybe he is dead. Sisters, I know she said she had sisters. Her phone, where is her phone? I closed the shower curtain and headed back to the living room, avoiding stepping in the streaks of blood on the floor.

As I arrived in the living room, I saw her purse sitting on my end table. This should answer some questions. I grabbed the purse and sat down on the couch. I carefully took each item out one at a time and placed them in a neat row on the couch cushion next to me. The phone was the first item I removed, but I would examine that momentarily. Everything from the purse was now on the couch, the possessions that were with April on her night of eternal rest: keys, a hairbrush, a coin purse, her driver’s license, a Visa credit card, perfume, deodorant, two tampons, a pack of spearmint gum, a bottle of pills, a tiny bottle of mouthwash and twenty-two dollars in cash. I picked up the pill bottle and read the label. “April Lynn Sanders, Zoloft 50MG Tablets.” I didn’t know her middle name was Lynn, April Lynn, that sounds pretty, I like it.

Next I picked up the phone. It was off, I turned it on. When it loaded, the phone immediately requested a password. Fuck! This was not going to be any help to me. One by one I slowly put all the items back in her purse. I walked into the kitchen to get another plastic grocery bag. I put the purse into the plastic bag and placed it next to the other bag, which contained the clothes she was wearing.

At this point, I was exhausted. I decided that I would go to bed and deal with everything else in the morning. While brushing my teeth, my eyes were transfixed on the bathtub. I could see the silhouette of her body, lying in the tub, through the shower curtain. Maybe I’ll be able to come up with a disposal scenario after a good night’s sleep. I had too much whiskey to think clearly tonight.

Once my head hit the back of my pillow, I was wide awake. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep until I did something with her body, but what should I do with it? I lay in bed, pondering. What about her possessions? I could probably burn them, which sounded like the best solution. As for the body, I didn’t want to remove it from the house, which would be too risky. Once I would bring it through the door, it would greatly increase the chance of someone witnessing it. What about my basement? Maybe I could break the concrete, bury her body and re-cement it. I could even put carpet over that, I always meant to carpet my basement, but never got around to it. Then I could put a couch and a television down there. Maybe I could purchase a few arcade machines online and put them down there as well. How about a pool table and a dartboard? This sounded like a great solution.

I sprung out of my bed and headed to the basement. I grabbed a hold of a hammer and started to pound at the floor with all my strength. I wondered if there were any pipes underneath the basement. What if I hit a pipe and had to call a plumber? That wouldn’t be good. Maybe it wouldn’t matter; I was only able to chip a few pieces of the concrete with the hammer. I wondered how thick the concrete was. I kept pounding, but it was starting to seem hopeless. All I was left with was a small hole in the floor, not even deep enough to bury a fish.

It was time to regroup and come up with a different strategy. People who throw a body into a lake or river are idiots. Eventually it’s going to wash ashore and be found, but how often are garbage cans looked through? Not even personal garbage cans, but great big dumpsters, like one in back of a restaurant or a grocery store. That made sense, either one of those choices would already have the smell of rotting meat, I bet body pieces would blend right in. The dumpster of a grocery store with a large meat department seemed perfect. I’d worked in a meat department, every day we’d throw out huge bags full of expired meat. That’s all that April was at this point, expired meat.

Now that I had a plan in mind, I had to get her body into garbage bags. That was not going to be pleasant, that was going to involve some cutting. It was time to make a mess. On my way back to the bathroom, I stopped in the kitchen to grab my three sharpest knives and a box of black garbage bags.

I arrived back in the bathroom and opened the curtain to reveal April’s naked, lifeless body. She was cute; I wish her mind would have been as beautiful as her body was. I knelt down and slowly caressed her body one more time, the last time it would be intact. I grabbed the biggest knife I had and sunk the blade into her thigh, directly below her pelvis. More blood seeped out of the incision. I moved the blade back and forth until I reached her femur. I used the knife like a saw, but it didn’t seem to be making much impact on the bone. The bone would have to be broken. Both of my hands were covered in blood as I arose to my feet. This was getting messy, I was going to have a lot of cleaning when this was all done, it’s a good thing I have the day off work tomorrow, I thought to myself.

I walked downstairs again to retrieve my hammer. I was getting tired again. I should at least try to remove one leg before going back to bed. That will at least give me optimism for tomorrow. I returned to April with a hammer in hand. I knelt down and lined up my shot. With one swift strike, I connected with the bone. Blood spattered onto my face. I licked it off my lips and struck again. Blood again spattered on my body and seemingly all over the bathroom, like a grotesque shower. I separated the wound to see the femur was now broken, success! Using the knife again, I cut the remaining flesh that was connecting April’s leg to her torso. It was off, I cut off her leg! The feeling was surreal. I was a bit proud of myself, it was quite an accomplishment.

Blood and sweat rolled down my face. At this point I was even more exhausted. I didn’t have enough energy to attempt the second leg, even if I wanted to tonight. It was really late too, probably about three. I closed the shower curtain and grabbed a towel from the hook. There was no way I could clean-up tonight and I didn’t want to track blood all around my house and into my bed. I rolled the towel up to use as a pillow and I laid my head down on the bathroom floor after shutting off the light.