Nina’s POV 3 Years Ago
Light Sleepers make for watchful eyes
As I am sure you probably guessed, the business was booming. The more cookies we made, the faster they would sell out.
Our biggest consumers were pregnant women and their spouses. It seems that we had a rather large influx of pregnant women as of recent, and their biggest craving is Chewie’s Chunky Cookies. People were bombarding us with orders left and right; we couldn’t keep up with the demand, so as per usual, Anabelle waved her little magic wand and made it so that we could.
Once we started getting noticed, Anabelle took it upon herself to buy us a little shop next to Izzie’s salon. Since I was our little cash cow’s creator, I was given the honor of naming us; how generous of her – note the sarcasm.
Every morning at the ass-crack of dawn, I would wake up and prepare the tempered chocolate for the cookies; for obvious reasons, this needed to be done solely by yours truly before being transported to the shop where we would make the cookie dough.
We actually had a small crew, which was helpful for me so that I wouldn’t have to spend all my time at the store. Since Anabelle would stop by periodically checking on our sales and going over the books and orders, the place pretty much ran smoothly without me.
I spent a lot of my days with Dean and helped out with the funeral home. My nights, however, were another story.
Now, please don’t misunderstand me; the fact that we didn’t have a lot of business wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. People not dropping dead is always great; but, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing for me.
I had started to take things into my own hands. Since the dead weren’t knocking down my door trying to get in, I realized I needed to search them out on my own.
Once a week, after my Dean would fall into his deep slumber, thank God the man was a hard sleeper, I would leave our home and head out.
The places I frequented were, as you would have guessed, less than safe. I would drive to the seediest parts of town when searching for my unique ingredients. Drug Dealers, Pimps, and kind of degenerate I could find I’d take. That’s not to say I didn’t have a few close run-ins, but lucky for me, nothing too serious. I had my sweet, innocent facade and a special ring that I wore, one scratch on my intended, and they would be knocked out with Ketamine within a couple of minutes, long enough for me to maintain a safe distance. I would always lure my future donors near my car, which would be parked off in a more secluded area less visible by others. Once they were knocked out, I would quickly inject them with a second dose of the Ketamine just to keep them incapacitated for longer. I then promptly take them home. Lucky for me, at my suggestion, I requested that we build a second entrance to the funeral home, one that can be accessed from outside near the garage. My justification, of course, was so that our home wouldn’t be riddled with the smell of death more than it already was. After I would remove them from my trunk, I would swiftly place them on the lowered gurney, and once they were securely fastened in, I would roll the raised gurney to the prep room, where I would immediately attach them to the Centrifugal Pump and drain them of their blood.
Once that was completed, I would place the dead body inside one of the other unused freezers and go about eliminating any trace of them from my vehicle and myself. The clothes and wig I wore would all be tossed into the incinerator, along with the tarp that lined the trunk of my car. Once that was done, the same fate would await the body.
Easy as pie, at least that was until the night my Dean didn’t sleep so lightly and was waiting for me when I arrived home from one of my little late-night ventures.
3rd Person POV
Dean hid in the shadows as he watched the horrid scene that unfolded in front of him. His wife, Nina, was removing a lifeless body from her trunk. He silently watched as she trudged the body over to the funeral home’s back entrance to the basement and placed it onto the awaiting lowered gurney. The way she handled herself was a clear indication that this was definitely not Nina’s first time executing whatever, in fact, she was doing.
Dean’s stomach wretched as he carefully followed her, watching her every step of the way; it took all his strength to hold back the bile threatening to spew from his mouth. He did not want to alert Nina of his presence just yet; he needed to see this through till the end.
For quite some time as of late, Dean had sensed something was off with his wife, and he kept a silent watch. At first, he assumed that her slight change in character was due to her being so busy handling both her business and assisting him with the funeral home. He thought that perhaps it was becoming too stressful for her with so much on her plate. But then one night, Dean noticed she left their bed and did not return for several hours, almost sunrise to be more precise. The first time this occurred, he chalked it up to her possibly having an issue at her shop and dismissed his concern, and believed she would inform him in the morning of her reasoning. Unfortunately, such was not the case. Nina never said a word.
As time went on, Dean realized that Nina would slip out into the night once a week, almost like clockwork.
He tried to follow her a couple of times, but to no avail, she would somehow manage to give him the slip so he would return home in wait. Each time she would not return to their bed until almost sunrise and would say nothing. As much as he wanted to confront her, Dean was scared. He didn’t want his wife to feel as if she was mistrusted, but the more this occurred, the deeper the root of jealousy would dig. His thoughts that she was seeing someone else manifested disturbing images of her naked body writhing in ecstasy as some unknown man claimed her over and over again. Dean hoped and prayed this was not the case, but her secretive actions made it appear otherwise.
Of course, what he was currently witnessing at the moment was no better. As he peered stealthily around the corner, he saw Nina draining the blood from her victim into a large black container while humming a happy little tune like her routine when baking. As soon as she was done, she shut off the machine and turned around to see a perplexed and hurt Dean standing in the doorway.
“What the Fuck is going on here, Nina?!”