The Blood Makes It Real

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Summary

Take a journey through the mind of a madman. Was he born this way? Or was he created by something unlike anything he had ever known? I just lay there stunned now. I had only wanted to kill Lucas… that much was planned for but this second death; that was like a bonus two-for-one special on murder. I started shaking uncontrollably. It was similar to the feeling some get when they first kill a deer, like a sort of adrenalin. I felt good, I felt above reproach, I felt above the law and I felt… panicked. This book is not for the feint of heart, or for those with a sensitive disposition. As one reader put it, "It does the job of getting the reader to clench their stomach muscles a la the Red Dragon himself, Hannibal the Cannibal Lecter. Something of which I am very proud of! ​Enjoy as you get lost inside the twisted world of a serial killer, just make sure you come back the same person that started reading this book. Dedicated to the darkness inside of all of us.

Genre:
Horror / Thriller
Author:
Mark Lopez
Status:
Complete
Chapters:
26
Rating:
4.0 1 review
Age Rating:
18+

The strangling

I squeezed his neck a little bit harder now, turning the whites of his eyes bloodshot as they ran into the back of his head. A yellow hue was slowly edging in from the outsides of his eyeballs towards the brown surrounding his wide dark pupils. I could feel his muscles involuntarily spasm as his body seized and shook while he slowly ran out of oxygen. The sad truth for him now though, was there was no amount of twitching… that would allow his lungs to ever again take in so much as one more breath. His body convulsed for a full minute, the shades of his face changing in odd patterns looking a bit like a slow moving kaleidoscope. I looked down at him, taking in what was in front of me. His once dark and healthy looking skin had taken on a much paler hue which was now bordering the color purple, almost black in the dim light of this desolate hotel room.

I had picked this place because it was in the middle of nowhere. You could go out to the road and look in any direction and wouldn’t see another sort of establishment for miles. It really wasn’t much to look at, just a cheap $35 a night hellhole for traveling tourists and people who probably wouldn’t stop unless they were desperate. The carpeting was straight out of the 70’s. It was a hideous shade of red that had probably covered up its fair share of messy nights long before I came along. The table that held the television was topped with the same material they try to pass off in cheap trailer homes as fire retardant countertop. Rather than painting the walls white, they opted to put up wallpaper that seemed straight out of a Tim Burton movie. It probably started out white, but no doubt the amount of cigarettes over the years that had been smoked in the room had changed it into more of a mustard brown. Even that though hadn’t held up well over the years and was peeling back randomly throughout the room.

His feet were the last parts of him to stop twitching. His tongue hanging out of his mouth just the slightest bit looked almost rubbery and seemed to have stiffened up already. The last thing he heard was my low, excited breathing as I stared into his white eyes as his life slowly slipped away. I like to stare into the eyes of my victims as they die if I get a chance to. I’m not really sure what it is that I expect to see exactly but it intrigues me. I guess I’m looking for some proof of life beyond death where I have no doubt many enemies waiting for me. Sometimes I think I see something fade out, some kind of light or energy, some might even say it was the soul leaving the body. I would rather face a militia of my victims in the afterlife, than just fade out when my body dies. That in itself keeps me looking. The last few times I had killed I have felt more than saw something actually leaving their bodies. It usually happened just a few moments after my victims actually lost consciousness. Their eyes will glaze over and then as if someone flipped a switch, they seem to go out completely.

I looked down at my new freshly squeezed middle aged Mexican, laying there with shock and bewilderment on his face relaxing into the last look he would ever make. I could see the darkening in his pants where his bowels let loose as his body lost control. I wasn’t happy about having to clean that mess up but it was well worth it. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I wasn’t after all at a place where I could be connected to anything other than possibly witnesses seeing me leave. I had kept this all as quiet as I could and would be just another nameless face leaving one of the rooms like any other day. As long as I didn’t leave any obvious signs of struggle or mess nobody would ever know any different. Besides, the room was paid for until tomorrow around noon and nobody seemed to notice the noise the Mexican had made coming into the room.

I looked over the length of his body and didn’t doubt that he had exercised this morning. He had one of those physiques most men would appreciate having themselves. He was lean, muscular and well-proportioned. The thick mass of muscle on his neck alone wouldn’t have been natural without a decent workout schedule. There were also lots of prominent veins bulging in all the right places adding to the athletic fit image he obviously liked to portray. It was almost a shame I had to cut him up. Time was wasting though so I had better get to it. It would be about 3:30 am by the time I was done, the sun would be coming up shortly after that so I wanted to be done and gone before then.

I was getting pretty good at this butchery art now. First, I grabbed the front of his loose fitting fake silk shirt and I ripped the buttons open revealing his slowly cooling chest. I had to lift his body up a little bit in order to get his handcuffs off his wrists so I could take his arms out of his sleeves and his shirt all the way off. I threw the shirt over to the side of the room and did the same with his pants. He was sprawled out on the floor below me in his underwear which I had left on him. I couldn’t help but lick my lips looking down at his physique.

The anticipation was driving me crazy. I grabbed a length of rope from my bag and tied a piece to each foot about 9 inches apart and then reached down and scooped him up putting one arm under his upper back and the other under his knees and carried him into the bathroom. The hotel rooms shower head was solid enough to hold his weight luckily because I didn’t really think about that before I had decided that this would be a good place for tonight’s business. I also hadn’t counted on unexpected guests tonight, especially well built decent sized ones. For my own shower, I had gone to my local hardware store and bought some metal bracing so I could do things of this nature without breaking the shower head from the wall. I had to step over the body of Trina, a blonde prostitute who had gotten this room in her name after a little story about my having warrants, as an excuse not to put my name anywhere near the scene. Sure, I had paid the cash for the room, but it was in her name, so I could afford to be a bit… messy if need be.

I walked past the motels rock hard bed in this cheap ass room. It was that dirty lumpy rectangle of a mess nobody wanted to sleep on with the comforters nobody had seen in a store since the early 70’s. The bed smelled of stale cigarette smoke and random body odors as if they hadn’t changed them since the place opened. It was the kind of bed that you wouldn’t see in a room over 35 bucks a night and at the moment it was occupied by the recently deceased body of Violet, a hooker I had indirectly killed earlier tonight. I can’t truly claim that death if I’m being perfectly honest, that one was more like… fate.

I walked past her and the Mexican into the bathroom at the end of the short hallway. I looked down into the bathtub into the wide eyed but now dull look of my latest kill Trina before the Mexican pimp had showed up at the door. She was still so pretty, the look of terror she had died with had also relaxed on her face. She still had my large, 9 inch long serrated knife I had used earlier to impale her in her chest to help ease her pain. After all, I’m not a complete monster.

I decided to dismember the big guy first since he would be the most time consuming and take up the most space. I removed Trina and put his body into the shower stringing him up with the rope tying his feet together. I took the knife out of her gorgeous chest and turned and sawed into the side of the dead pimp’s neck. The process was similar to the slitting of a slaughtered cows neck so they can be drained of their blood making for a much less messy dismemberment. This time the “cow” was already dead and didn’t exactly have a beating heart to help ease the blood out of him so I took great care to not only sever the jugular and allow the maximum amount of blood to leave his still warm body, but I also slit him from ear to ear. His head was beginning to bloat up from the blood pooling in it. I filled up an old mason jar I brought with me with as much of the blood as I could catch running from his open neck to use for later.

I was surprised at the amount of blood that drained into the tub even after I thought there couldn’t possibly be any more. The lack of blood in his empty body was turning his now pale skin an almost albino hue. When I was satisfied with the amount of blood that had drained from him and expected no more, I picked up my knife and continued to saw on his neck, separating layer by layer of meat from meat, until I finally got to his spinal column at which the knife stopped sawing smoothly. I applied the dull side of the blade to the back of his neck carefully bracing it to prevent slipping and cutting myself when I hit the sturdy handle hard with my right hand. The blow broke the bones of his neck with a clean snap, assuring me that I wouldn’t dull my knife sawing off the rest of his head.

This I would put into a plastic bag by itself, so I could take it with me without blood getting on anything. This hotel room happened to have a few extra trash bags in the little garbage pails they put in every room, giving me more space to put his body parts in. I brought some bags with me but I didn’t count on the extra bodies today. Now with the head in the first bag, next came the rest of the body so I could begin on the next one. I took their clothes and personal things that they had on them and stuffed them into a separate trash bag and took a shower to rinse off the blood. When I was satisfied that I hadn’t left any fingerprints or other obvious evidence behind I threw the bags in my trunk and drove us all home.

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du:

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