#i want to be dissected and have my intestines removed so they can never hurt again.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

hush hush.

[alj4890]

Choices October Challenge

Day 2 Teaching

(Bryce Lahela x MC*Chris) in a Choices Open Heart Drabble

A/N A bit of Halloween Fluff for this pair.

@choicesoctoberchallenge2020 @lucy-268​ @krsnlove @anotherbeingsworld

Masterlist

Surgical Precision

"This year," Naveen explained, "we will have teams of two." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "Each team must consist of one surgeon."

He shook his head at Dr. Tanaka’s denial. "No cheating like last year."

Groans and laughter filled the cafeteria of Edenbrook.

"As usual, our panel of judges will have the final say in the winner." He held up the sign up sheet. "You have one week to plan and present your contribution." His smile glowed as he walked away. "Good luck!"

"How about it, Valentine?" Bryce sidled up beside Chris. "Want to team up with the best?"

"You asked me, which means that you want to team up with the best." She teased.

"I'm feeling magnanimous today." He bumped her shoulder with his.

"Don't hurt yourself." She rolled her eyes playfully. "We can't have you being the most talented and the most giving doctor here."

"True." He glanced around before leaning close to whisper. "No need to let everyone know that I'm also the luckiest."

"Oh?" She lowered her lashes. "And how are you the luckiest?"

He snagged a pen from her pocket and wrote their names down on the paper. With a wink, he tossed it back to her. "Because I have you as my partner."

With a confident strut, he spoke over his shoulder on the way out. "Eight o'clock, my apartment. I'll even provide dinner."

"I'll be there." She said, trying not to smile too much.

**************

Later that night...

Bryce rubbed his hands together. "Alright Chris. Tell me your experience."

"My experience?"

"Don't tell me this is your first time." He teased.

"It's not!" She exclaimed. "I've done this before."

"How many times?" He leaned over his kitchen counter, a slow smile lighting his face.

"I didn't keep count." She laughed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Was I supposed to?"

"I'm simply curious to know how knowledgeable you are." He pulled out a number of tools and surgical equipment. "If we are to work together, I need to know you know what I'm talking about."

"Bryce, it's a pumpkin." Her laughter spilled out again. "I'm pretty sure everyone knows how to cut into one."

"This isn't simply cutting." He argued. "We are about to delve into creating a masterpiece that the likes of Edenbrook has never seen. This contest has never had your brilliant mind and my skillful hands joined as one in carving a pumpkin."

"That is true." She propped her chin on her hand, leaning closer to him. Her eyes met his. "Especially my brilliant mind part."

He snorted softly, shaking his head.

"Ready for a night of practice?" Bryce produced a large pumpkin. "Our first patient is ready to be prepped for surgery."

"One removal of innards coming up." She handed him a large carving knife.

"Excellent choice, Dr. Valentine." He twirled the knife before easing it into the top of the pumpkin. "While I begin the craniotomy, please prepare for the next phase of surgery.

Chris rolled her sleeves up and retrieved his garbage can. She dug around in his utensils drawer until she found a large metal spoon.

He glanced up after removing the top portion. "Perfect. I will make a surgical intern out of you yet."

"No thanks." She sat back down across from him. "I prefer letting you have that type of fun."

He scooped out the guts, letting them fall with a plop into the garbage. "While I do the tedious part, why don't we brainstorm some ideas that will blow the judges away."

Bryce watched her as she pulled out a notebook and pen.

"I was thinking about that on the way over." Chris tapped the pen against her lips. "Should we focus on just carving a pumpkin or go big?"

"What's your definition of big?"

"Something like this." She pulled a photo up on her phone.

His smile grew. "I love the way you think Dr. Valentine."

"I know." She leaned over and kissed him. "I love you going along with my idea, Dr. Lahela."

***********

A week later...

"No, this goes here." Bryce took the scalpel from Chris's grasp. "Laparotomy incisions provide the best visualization and intra-abdominal access for exploratory procedures."

Chris stepped back, watching Bryce set up the pumpkin body for surgery. Her lips curved softly when she noticed how serious he was taking this.

Everything he was posing was true to life. Even the number of clamps he had added matched what she had observed whenever she had a free moment to watch him in action.

She pulled out a set of surgical scrubs and began to ready the other pumpkin that was to be performing the surgery. She couldn't help but be impressed with his dedication to their entry.

"And now the part the judges will love." He opened a plastic bowl and dumped the guts out on the gurney.

Chris laughed when he formed a small intestine out of part of it. "I bet you were that boy in school who really got into dissecting cow's eyeballs and such."

"That and making the pretty girls squeal." He waggled his eyebrows. "Like so." He reached out to cup her face with hands covered in slimy pumpkin innards.

"No!" She tried to duck, laughing when he chased her around the gurney. "Bryce! Don't you dare!"

"Still got it." He bragged, wiping his hands on a towel.

The two stepped back and studied their entry.

"Thoughts, Dr. Valentine?" He asked, draping his arm around her shoulders.

"It's perfect, Dr. Lahela." She checked to make sure no one was nearby and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'm glad you wanted me for your partner."

"As if I would choose anyone else." He stole a quick, heated kiss. "Now, let's go let the judges see this."

A few minutes later Edenbrook's children's ward was filled with excited murmurs and laughter.

"Eww!" One little boy being pushed in a wheelchair exclaimed when he saw Chris and Bryce's. "It's guts are out!" He smiled up at the doctors. "I love it!"

Parents of some of the patients also commented on each entry, touched that the doctors had done this for their children.

By the end, there was only one clear winner.

"It is such a burden to be right all the time." Bryce whispered, as pictures were taken of them next to their pumpkin surgery scene."

She elbowed him playfully.

He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "Did you have fun?"

"I always do with you." She whispered back, fighting a smile. "But the trophy is coming home with me."

"It is half mine." He countered.

"Then feel free to visit it as much as you want." Her cheeks colored at his suggestive smile. "I'm certain it will be happy each time you come over."

[cinful-stories]

Dissection Day (Nico x OC)

This was made as a short-story request for @tykira45 using her MC. The story is set in an AU where the MC Natalie and Nico attend school together. 

Warning: SLIGHTLY NAUGHTY THINGS AHEAD!! Rights to Natalie’s design belong to @tykira45.  

We were told to pick up the metal scalpel, but I didn't do it. We were also told to have the pins in hand. I didn’t do that either. My hands don’t move from my lap, nor do my eyes tear themselves away from the window. It’s raining outside--a torrential downpour. 

“Natalie, please follow directions.” The voice of Professor Daniels swims in my head. It’s muffled, as if I was submerged in water. I nod shyly, pretending to reach for the scalpel. 

Dissection day. It’s an annual event put on by the Academy’s biology department where a different animal is presented to us on a silver lab tray to have its flesh and organs picked apart by vultures wearing googles and gloves in the name of “science”. Each year, the animal of choice is larger and more difficult to dissect, and each year I have a different excuse to stay home. Last year, I abruptly contracted a rare strain of the flu that was so vicious that I had painful blisters all over my face. The year before that, a distant cousin from Albania had mysteriously died, leaving all of his possessions to me, and I had to attend the funeral or I wouldn’t inherit the dowry. This year, I couldn’t come up with anything convincing enough and walked to class with my head hung low and my eyes brimming with tears. 

I always had a profound love of animals. I volunteer at the local animal shelter and help stray dogs and cats find loving homes. A large sum of my weekly allowance is donated to the environmental center for conservation efforts for threatened ecosystems. I never dream of hurting another living thing, and in this moment, I am having an internal battle over dissecting the fetal pig sprawled out before me. 

“Natalie, what did I just tell you to do?” my professor gripes, crossing the room to loom over my lab bench. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, and he eyes me like a snake ready to swallow its mouse. 

My voice comes out as a whisper, afraid to draw more attention to myself. “You told me to follow directions.” 

“Very good, now do as I say,” he commands. “I’m only trying to help you.” His hand swipes his brow, coated in slimy perspiration. “I know how to fix this. Nico!” 

My head swivels to a lab bench in the back of the classroom. With his head craned over the pig’s open stomach, Nico Meier, the student with the highest marks in biology class, is focused intently on the task at hand. He had already advanced far beyond our professor’s verbal instructions and was halfway through the dissection. Tufts of strawberry hair flounce as his head pops up. A sweet smile adorns his lips. “Yes, Professor?” he asks, his tone chipper and obedient. 

My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I had spoken with Nico several times but only with formality. My grade is obscenely low in biology, and at the request of Professor Daniels, I meet Nico in the library for tutoring sessions twice a week. He’s always patient with me, guiding me through the lessons at a comfortable pace. When I begin to show an understanding of the concepts he covers, he praises my progress and offers rewards such as going out for ice cream or taking a leisurely stroll around campus. He’s encouraging and easy to converse with, but he only sees me as a peer when I wish he would see me as more. 

Nico steps over, hands behind his back. He grins warmly at me, and I blush, quickly turning my cheek to hide my affection. 

“Nico, you are doing exceptionally well so far, so I will go ahead and give you full marks for this exercise. Instead of finishing your work, I need you to assist Miss Natalie for the remainder of the period. It’s evident that she needs some coaxing,” Professor Daniels sneers, cutting his eyes toward me. 

The young man seats himself next to me. “Sure thing, Professor. I’d be happy to help!” Professor Daniels walks away, satisfied with Nico’s enthusiasm. 

I do not turn to face my new lab partner. I continue to stare down at my hands, twiddling my thumbs in anticipation. I secretly hope that Nico will acknowledge my discomfort and just do the dissection himself without making conversation. 

“Natalie, are you feeling alright?” 

Dammit.

“I-I’m fine, Nico,” I say hastily, averting my gaze. A crack of lightning strikes the courtyard outside, nearly splitting one of the older oak trees closest to the window. It’s much easier to accept that there’s a dead pig in front of me when worrying about getting struck by lightning.  

“Hey,” he replies, his voice gentle next to my ear. I feel the warmth of his hand on my own, still folded in my lap. A fiery blaze of scarlet rises on my face, and I begin to sweat and squirm anxiously. He never made any moves to touch me during our tutoring sessions, but I had always wanted him to. “You can do this, okay? I’ll walk you through the steps and make sure the dissection is as clean and quick as possible. If you need to step out, just let me know.” 

His kindness causes a stirring in the pit of my stomach. I gain the courage to face him and melt at the tenderness in his smile. Small lines tug at the corners of his amber eyes as they squint at me, gleaming like precious rhinestones. I feel my lips moving involuntarily, agreeing to his proposition. 

Nico tells me to grab the scalpel and run it along the center of the pig’s stomach in a straight line. I swallow a lump in my throat. I watch in horror as my hands drive the tiny blade into the lifeless creature’s gullet. The scalpel is dragged downward toward the pig’s tail, and the sour stench of death sterilized by formaldehyde fills the air. I drop the scalpel. It clatters on the tabletop and I plug my nostrils. 

“Eugh--that smell is awful!” I cry, laughing nervously.

“That’s the worst part about dissection day,” Nico jests, unfazed by the stench. “The science wing reeks of chemicals for weeks.” It’s obvious that he’s trying to divert my attention from the disturbing scene. 

I follow the instructions written on the board. The next step was to peel back the flaps of epidermis on either side of the animal and pin them down to the lab tray using dissection pins. I stare down hopelessly at the rift in its stomach. The pinky-gray hue of intestines peeks through. It makes me nauseous. 

My fingers slowly dive into the crevasse. The sensation of the pig’s internal organs touching my glove was unbearably cold. I squeeze my eyes shut as I move the skin and skewer it to the pan. 

“Natalie, look! It’s so cool!” Nico exclaims. I feel his body shift next to mine as he leans over to inspect the pig. “You’ve gotta see this!” 

I open my eyes and peek at the animal and instantly let loose a squeal. Sitting deep within the pig’s abdomen is an unborn pig fetus the size of my fingernail. Nico’s eyes flash, realizing that the scene probably isn't as “cool” to me as it is to him. He quickly unpins the flaps of skin, removing the fetus from sight. 

“Nico, I-I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I stammer. I’m ashamed of myself for giving up so early, but I just couldn’t bare to look at the pig’s innards knowing that it had died while pregnant, knowing that two beautiful creatures had to die for “science”. 

There is a flicker of sympathy on his face. He watches me with concerned orbs, searching my soul. 

“What on earth is going on here?” Professor Daniels demands, hurrying over to our lab bench.

I look up at him with sorrow. “I-I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t. The pig--it’s pregnant--er, was pregnant. I think I need to leave the classroom.”

Our professor glances from Nico to me again. “Get out of your chair. You’re coming with me to the dean’s office. Nico, you may return to your seat. Thank you for trying to help, but I’m afraid she’s a lost cause.” 

I stand from my stool. Every eye in the class is on me but no mouths are moving. Nobody was going to object to sending the tree-hugger to the dean for a reprimand. My feet shuffle behind Professor Daniels, my eyes looking anywhere but the dissected pigs.

“Send me too.”

The pair of us halts abruptly at the sound of Nico’s enraged voice. 

“Pardon me?” Professor Daniels challenges.

Nico rises from the lab bench. “I defied you, Professor. I didn’t help her at all. Send me to the dean’s office too.” His usual sweet smile twists into a nasty scowl.

The professor is stunned. “Don’t be ridiculous, Nico. You’re my best student! There’s no reason to send you with--”

“Then I’ll go myself. I’m not going to stay here and finish your damn dissection when you’re punishing a sweet girl just for not wanting to harm animals. C’mon, Natalie!” 

Nico pushes his way through desks and appalled students. His shoulder gives Professor Daniels a rough shove as he passes by. He grabs my hand tightly, dragging me behind him. I stumble trying to keep up with his brisk pace, the hem of his Academy blazer flowing in his wake. He yanks me haphazardly through the halls, ignoring my complaints of his grip being too tight, until he reaches an unmarked door at the end of the foreign language wing. He pulls the door open and practically tosses me inside, shutting it behind us. 

“Nico, this isn’t the dean’s office. If the professor finds out we’ve--”

The quick movement of his lips cuts my words short. That charming smile, tinged with lust, collides aggressively with my mouth. Hands cup both sides of my face, his body pressing my spine against the wall of the dark closet. I try to push away for breath, but Nico’s lips reign down on me mercilessly. He is unforgiving, sliding a knee between my upper thighs beneath my skirt. He finally breaks away, amber orbs dilated and pulsing in the dark. 

“What was that?” I whisper. My hands are still trapped, smothered between his chest and my stomach. I feel his heart beating like the wild gallop of a stallion. 

He pants, chest heaving. Fingers comb through my dark locks tenderly. “Something I’ve wanted to do since we first started meeting in the library.” His eyes are focused on my lips as if examining them for dissection. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t mutual. I just couldn’t help myself. I’ll stop now if you want me to.”

My heart flutters. This isn’t quite how I imagined my first kiss with Nico would go, but I was immensely glad it was happening. “No, please don’t stop. I liked it.” 

He smirks at me, leaning in once more. “Good,” he murmurs against my mouth. My mouth is claimed by his own. He nibbles my lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. His hands greedily feel the curves of my figure. Those fingers--gentle yet hungry for more--trace across my bared breasts. I am certain that our moans and giggles could be heard all the way back in the biology classroom, but neither of us cared. 

The pair of us spend the remainder of the school day in that closet, exploring each other’s bodies with our hands, mouths, tongues. Nico thoroughly examined my insides, feeling every inch and eliciting sensations I had never experienced before and didn’t want to experience with anyone else. 

Perhaps this year’s dissection day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[sometimesbuzz]

Death be not strange.

So this is a thing I wrote for a media assignment on the horror genre.

Warnings: Horror, gore.

The human fear response fascinates me. The dilated pupils, the body shaking with anticipation, their brain trying to predict what I’ll do next and failing. Once a person is in my sights, they have no chance of survival.

First off, let me tell you the story of Jonathan Taylor, an average man, at best. I first met him when he ordered a flat white from the café I work at. Jonathan was tall, with a bit of fat round the middle, perfect for roasting. He paid more attention to his phone than his surroundings, making him an easy target. Jonathan, stupidly, decided to walk into the alleyway next to the café. And whilst he scrolled through Twitter, I beat him to death with a coffee pot. The one downside of killing people in broad daylight, is trying to get them back to my apartment without raising suspicion. But everybody has tricks up their sleeves, or just good biceps.

Once back at my apartment, Jonathan loses a lot more than just his clothes. Peeling the skin off a body is just as simple as peeling an orange. Except with blood instead of juice and more time consuming. Once skinned and useless appendages are given to my dog, it’s time for the cooking process. Most people like me prefer to eat humans raw, but I’m a sucker for a good long roast in a marinade. The thigh is, in my opinion, the tastiest part of the human body. Slow cooked for three hours and served with a glass of red, is the way to go. A full human body can last me about a week’s worth of meals, before more meat is needed. While I get my fix of human meat, my dog gets to chow down on bones. In all honesty, Jonathan was a disappointment. When I cut into him, I discovered that he had a shoulder replacement and no one wants to eat metal alloys. It’s like picking bones out of a fish dish. It makes the entire dining experience a bit of a hassle. It also increases the clean-up job, which is usually just disposing of clothes. So, Jonathan Taylor, an average man, at best, was an average meal too.

I haven’t been eating people for very long, but in my ten months of cannibalism, I have found that men are a significantly better feed than women. Breasts, although nice to look at, are just a big chunk of fat. No one wants their meals to arrive with a big lump of fat connected to the meat. Don’t even get me started on breasts implants. Large amounts of fat on food is awful, but trust me when I say, that a balloon of silicon turning up on your plate is worse.

I think it’s safe to say that I never intended to kill people and eat them to survive, but some lifestyles you just stumble into. When there is no food, and it looks like there won’t be food anytime soon, the insatiable hunger consumes you. And getting a meal is all a person can think about. The mere thought of food is enough to stop muscles aching. When you’re indescribably hungry, nothing will stop you getting your next meal. It’s an addiction, worse than any drug or adrenaline rush. I’ve gone a week without a meal and my body can’t handle it. You start to shake uncontrollably; my skin gets stretched tautly over my bones and starts to turn grey and ashy. Though the physical changes to my body are awful, the mental changes are worse. You lose all sense of reality, of humanity. You lose your moral codes. You will risk everything to get a single, fleeting bite of fresh warm flesh. Hannibal Lector got cannibalism wrong, there is nothing strangely beautiful about eating human flesh. You do it to survive. In life, everything comes down to an inherent desire to live. You do what you have to, even if it means killing people for food. Some may say that makes me a monster. They’d be right.  

Contrary to popular belief, it is rarely a dark stormy night when I stalk or kill my prey. I like to see the sunlight reflect off their bodies whilst I open them. I want to see every wrinkle, every indent, every stretchmark that my dinner has. Human flesh is beautiful, but what’s underneath is truly exquisite. I learnt more about the human body’s muscles, tendons and inner working by dissecting them, than going to biology class. Speaking of biology class, that is where I happened upon my next meal. Most people despise group assignments at university, and I don’t blame them, but I have found them to be a good source of food. Because, let’s be honest, who doesn’t want to kill someone after completing a group assignment? For the record, I try to kill the person who does the least amount of work. Geoff never turned up to meetings and my group was half convinced he didn’t actually exist. We were shocked when he walked into the classroom for the presentation, I decided that he was my next meal.

Do you ever get the feeling that someone is watching you, following you? Geoff certainty did. There is something enjoyable about playing with your food before eating it. I relish making my meat paranoid, making them fear the unknown, making them scared of turning around, just in case I’m there. Geoff was already paranoid, possibly due to the large amounts of marijuana I later found in his house. I observed as he looked out into the street before going inside and locking the door. Such a shame that locks can’t keep me out. I scaled the side of his house, and sat on the roof. I could hear cartoons blaring from the TV, the smell of Cheetos wafted up to me, within the haze of marijuana stench. Despite the loud cartoons and awful stink, the sound of his heart beating and the smell of his skin draws me in. I shimmy off the roof and kick open a window on the top floor. Geoff is so high at this point that he doesn’t notice. I make my way down the stairs towards my next meal. He does not notice when I enter the room. Eventually he sees my reflection in the TV, after mumbling something about me not being real he runs out of his house. Geoff is surprisingly quick, for a guy high on drugs. But even the fast humans are no match for my speed and strength. Unlike in horror films, he doesn’t trip over. Instead he runs straight into a traffic light pole, in doing this, he was kind enough to knock himself unconscious. Allowing me to easily pick him up and run him to my own apartment, without being seen by the general public.

It’s strange how peaceful a person can look when they are knocked unconscious. All the muscles in the face relax and you instantly look younger. It looks like they don’t have a care in the world and in that moment, they don’t. When you wake up, that’s when you start to worry. It takes time for people to register the fact that they are in danger. Geoff, in his concussed and still slightly high state took even longer than most. I find that it is best to prolong death, to ensure that the meat is fresh, a process that I’m sure Geoff will not enjoy. I prefer to remove each limb, one at a time. Then, attempt to keep the human alive through a series of sedatives and IV drips. Large amounts of screaming can cause neighbours to call the cops and explaining a partially dead person on the couch is not easy. Next, I strip the skin off the meat, which is a surprisingly lengthy process. Then I cut any fat off the meat, unless it will help with the cooking. Then I’ll let the leg, usually, to sit in a marinade whilst I deal with other parts of the body. When it comes to a human body, every part can be used for something. Liver, intestines, brains anything can be cooked up and eaten, if you know a good recipe and have a good storage system. Storage of all this meat is extremely important. A big freezer, whilst expensive, is crucial to keeping things from going off. When I first starting eating humans I didn’t take enough care with keeping my meats frozen and let me tell you that food poisoning is not pleasant and can be particularly violent.

While Geoff’s leg is marinating, I start to shake, not a good sign. It has been too long since my last feed. I look in a mirror and see my skin turn translucent and grey. My hair is practically ejected from my scalp and my skin is pulled tight against my skull and bones. My vision blurs and adjusts making the lights in my house hurt my eyes. I shut them tightly and fumble to find the light switch. After failing to turn off the painfully bright lights, I throw a punch to where the light switch should be. The lights go out and I remove my hand from the hole I made. I hear a whimpering coming from the corner and turn to see my dog shaking about as much as I am. The scent of human flesh enters my nostrils and consumes my thoughts. I race over to the couch, pushing furniture out of my way, to get to where Geoff is lying unconscious. I rip open his ribcage with ease and stuff as much muscle, meat, lungs, whatever I can get my hands on in my mouth. I inhale as much of Geoff’s body as I can, eating every last bit of skin, bone, intestine. My only thought is about getting the human flesh inside me. When Geoff’s body has been devoured, I am still not satisfied. I bolt into the kitchen and tear the freezer door off its hinges. Luckily there are a few left-over pieces of someone, that I was going to feed to the dog. I scoff them down and exceedingly slowly the curse starts to back off. My skin grows plump and warm, my hair grows back and my eyes are now attempting to adjust to the darkness of my apartment. I get up off my kitchen floor and look for a torch. I eventually find my phone and use it to survey the damage. My couch is torn is half, there is the hole in the wall, my freezer door just lying on the ground and Geoff’s blood covering a decent proportion of the apartment.

It was foolish of me to go too long without a meal, I could have revealed the curse’s existence. As far as humans are concerned vampires and werewolves are fiction. I thought they were for a long time, but then I was trapped. Trapped in an elevator of all places, for six days. Humans can only survive three days without food and water. After the other people in the elevator died, I ate them to keep myself alive. In doing so, I was cursed and discovered that every nightmarish creature that you can read about is real. They live among us, silently to protect themselves. Quietly feeding off the humans that are forgotten, the homeless and the runaways.

When a human consumes another human’s flesh they become cursed, cursed by the Wendigo. If we don’t keep feeding on human flesh then we become uncontrollable monsters. But other than that, it’s a manageable condition.

[wellmeaningshutin]

Short Story #99: Roses in Her Eyes.

Written: 4/17/2017                                                       Romantic Intermission

When the detective was called to the scene, he expected to arrive to something gruesome, not only by the voice on the other end of the phone, which seemed to be rattled, which was unusual, but also because, when he was outside of the house, the rookie who had been throwing up in the front lawn, trembling, with a visible look of terror on his face that went from blue to red, blue to red. And, sure, when the detective stepped inside of the house, of the crime scene, after ducking under yellow tape, then seeing what was on the walls, what littered the floors, he felt, in a way, very uneasy, but when he would later try to look back on those feelings, they would all feel vague, like he was trying to remember the exact words somebody had told him in a memory from his early childhood, because after he stepped past the teeth, the intestines, the bone fragments, the dark liquid that was blood mixed with something else, something familiar that he couldn’t place, or didn’t want to place, and all of the hair that seemed to stick to everything, especially the viscera, all of that became an afterthought, after he laid eyes on her. When he saw her across from the room, it was like nothing else had existed, it was like the words of every sappy, romance novel had been pumped through his veins, it was as if he had never felt before until that very moment, as if he were in a dream about real life, then suddenly woke up, confused, because the dream had seemed so real, he had forgotten that there was a real world. So, he made his way over what he thought was a dissected dog, past the maggots, and almost lifted her up before somebody called out, their voice wavering, “Hey! Don’t touch that, damn it! We haven’t taken pictures yet!”

“Well,” he asked, slowly, as if the words had little meaning to him, “when will they be in here?”

“They are here, but,” slipping in a puddle of dark liquid, falling to the ground, cursing themselves, “God fucking. Fuck! Its like, its like this god damn its.. Its like this fucker,” removing their soaked gloves to replace them with new ones, “decided to make this whole mess, just to fuck with us! I bet this asshole didn’t care about the family, I bet he didn’t even care about any of this, he just wanted to give us a hard time. Damn it! This is a new-”

“Yeah yeah,” staring into her eyes, waving away the person, “but when will they-”

“The first one that walked in walked right out, she just didn’t want to deal with it. She made some comment about going back to taking pictures of pets or something, and I have a feeling that she isn’t coming back. The replacements are out on the front lawn, they’re getting a rough example of all of this bullshit, just in the hopes that they wont crack under pressure. I heard something about giving them sunglasses or something, so that they’ll only have a faint idea of all of this.. all of this fucking.. but I have no idea how the pictures are going to turn out if-”

“I get it, whatever, but when will they be in here?”

“I don’t know, maybe in around ten minutes? I don’t want to be here any longer either, I-” and the rest was tuned out. Why should the detective have bothered to listen to that man, when there were only two important people in the world, him and that girl, that beautiful girl, the girl who made all other girls appear to be a different species. Yet, the detective had a hard time trying to figure out what had made her so appealing, what had set her above all of the rest. In some ways she could have fallen behind, been undesirable, mainly because of her lack of a body, the fact that she was dead, her straw colored hair, but her face was serene in a way that was infectious, her nose was natural, but was shaped in a way that other women would spend insane amounts of money to be sculpted in that way, a nose that was a fortune for any plastic surgeon that could sculpt it, and, what he realized was one of her biggest strengths, her lack of eyes, with two roses taking their place. When he was fixated on her, he could only hear his own breathing, he could only see her.

Then, after an unknown interval, he felt a tap on his shoulder and almost jumped out of his skin, forgetting that more than two people existed. “Hey, woah,” Said the man behind him, “sorry there pal. I know, this place is a nightmare, sorry for sneaking up on you. I need you to step aside so that I could,” the detective stepped aside before the guy could finish speaking, “Thanks.” Snapping a couple pictures of the girl, “Jesus fucking.. You know what? They could pay me enough to snap pictures, but I don’t know why they would even want pictures for this fucking mess.” Click, flash, “Like, I know you fellas have to get your evidence and everything, I know the law thinks that we should catch sick fucks like this, but..”, click, flash, “ I have no idea who would want to look over these pictures. I have no idea why anyone would want to focus on this case for any amount of time, you know? Why bother? If somebody is capable of this, well, yeah that’s terrible alright, but why have to subject yourself to it? Why not just burn this place down, forget about it, let the creep hide if he wants to. There’s no sense in,” click, flash, “hurting your own mental health just for some sense of justice that’s only going to give whoever did this a death sentence, while you guys have to get a life sentence, PTSD, nightmares and-”

“Look,” said the detective, looking the photographer over for the first time, “its fine for you to question it, but you’re not one to pass out judgment, you’re not somebody who understands how these things work. Just take your pictures so I can go on with my job. The reason you can’t understand how somebody could investigate this is the same reason you don’t have my job.”

“Well, that and I don’t want to be a detective.”

“If its so bad anyways, why are you inside of this supposed mess? Why are you ‘deep in the shit’, but can’t understand why people would look at a couple of photographs?” He was unable to hide the anger from his voice, mainly because he couldn’t understand what was supposed to be so terrible about all of this, especially since the photographer had started his asinine rant while staring at the lovely woman. Something very faint was trying to remind the detective what the man was talking about, trying to give some context, but the beat of his heart was too loud for his conscious to speak over. “You know, none of this is really bad anyways. You don’t fucking know bad if you think this is some.. Look, just because you’re some feint hearted pussy, doesn’t mean that the rest of us are. Now hurry up and get this finished so that I can do my job.” Wordless, insulted, the crime scene photographer hurried up so that he could move to a room where he wouldn’t have to deal with an asshole. When everything was ready to start touching, to be bagged and logged down, to be taken away to some forensics lab for further investigation, the detective made sure to bag the head first, before anyone else could, and then walked out of the house with it under his arm, abandoning his job, telling everyone something about ‘finger prints’, trying to say that he had to take it to the lab straight away, and then drove off before he could be stopped.

As he drove from the suburbs to the highway, with the girl in the passengers seat, her eyes staring up at him, he tried to figure out what his plan was supposed to be. Where was he driving? What was he going to tell everyone when he had the head for a while, when he wouldn’t show up to his job? Where was he going? He felt as if he was being driven by some sort of motor inside of him, as if he was just along for the ride. The break lights that shone from the cars in front of him reminded him of her eyes, and it was tough for him to try not to become mesmerized, or at least to remember their meaning and tap his own breaks. Four hours later he had ended up in a small town, one of those towns that mainly served as a rest stop, somewhere most of the visitors only used to fill up gas, and to stretch their legs before they set off again for their next destination, the one that actually mattered. He checked into a motel there, keeping his new love wrapped inside of his jacket, figuring that this was the perfect place to stay, because he didn’t have a destination in mind, he had no clue where anything was heading. Before he went to sleep, he stared into her eyes for about an hour, and wished to learn everything about her past life, where she was born, what her childhood was like, what her interests were, but he knew that she couldn’t respond, he wasn’t crazy, and eventually he fell asleep, dreaming of her.

Only when he woke up in the morning, did he question if he had fucked up. Why did he take her out there, in the middle of nowhere? Why did he leave his job behind for her, especially since they would know, by now, that he never brought her to any lab. And why didn’t he bring her to a lab, he wondered, because wouldn’t he have wanted them to find evidence on her if they could? Wouldn’t he want to find whoever had done that to her, so that he could get revenge on… but did they really do something bad? Staring into her eyes, he wondered if he would care about this girl, if anyone would care about the girl, if she hadn’t received the treatment. What if she had been dull in her past live, had been somebody the detective would only glance over, somebody that he would have forgotten about almost immediately. She could have been a terrible person, she could have not deserved to become so beautiful, but he would never know this. Eventually, after an hour or two of deep thought, he decided that the past was done, it was dead. What happened to her happened, and who she was now was all that mattered, not who she used to be. What he had done was final, and there was no reason to worry about if he was wrong, because he had already made the decision, and the only direction he could move was forward. This was the direction their lives were moving in, and he figured it would be best to just enjoy it.

So, he took her out of her evidence bag and lied on his back, on the cheap, uncomfortable, twin bead, while he placed her on his stomach, so that she was looking at him, and he could look at her. Since they were in this situation, since everything had moved so fast, he decided that he would try to let her get to know him, and it didn’t matter if she couldn’t actually listen, he just wanted to tell her anyways. “Well, I have to let you know, first things first, that I am a heavy romantic. Now, I’m not one of those serial romantics that loves to up and leave the girl they’re with, right after a new love passes in front of them, my heart doesn’t have ADD, I love who I love and its hard for me to stop. I guess one of my problems is.. Well, I could tell you about my childhood and all that, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. It matters about as much as your past life. No point in talking about it. I guess I’ll just try to explain more recently. My job requires a certain emotional disconnect to everything we see, mainly because there is no shortage of evil in the world. It seems like no matter what, there is some sick fuck trying to out do the last sick fuck, as if they have secret competitions to see who could be a worse human being, who could be more depraved. I know that’s not true, but its just hard to believe that there could be so many fucked up people out there,” gently moving her bangs out of her face, away from her eyes, “its just hard to believe that there’s so many people like that.

“But I guess I don’t want to bore you with all of that, because its all behind me now. There’s no way that I can return to my job, so I shouldn’t have to worry about all of the stuff I was exposed to, all of the moral bankruptcy. No use in dwelling on it. Now, all of that shit I had to deal with, all of the long hours I had to work just to make sure we could get those monsters away from civilization, locked away in some concrete building filled with other monsters, like a human landfill. It took up so much of my life, it practically became my life. I hardly had time to make friends outside of the force, I hardly had time to meet anyone, to try to do anything except for unwinding. I’ve spent a lot of my free time either sleeping, or at home trying to get out of my own damned head by watching television, and I just can’t understand why there are so many crime based shows out there. Maybe I’m just so used to it all that its lost its interest, like there’s no reason to go home and watch what I do for a living. I usually watch shows that stay away from those subjects, but half the time it seems like I’m watching something in a foreign language, all of that happiness and sunshine and lack of real problems has just seemed alien to me.”

He continued to talk until the sun went down, until he was out of things to talk about, and he wasn’t exactly sure what he had gotten out of it, but he knew that it at least had felt good to talk. Normally, with a lot of these things, he would say as little as possible, only talking about what he had to, but with her something was different, something had made him want to tell her everything about him, the good and the bad, and he felt that if she could hear him, she wouldn’t have looked down on him for any of it, she would have understood. He still wasn’t sure where any of this was going, but he knew that he was fine with just talking, if that’s what his relationship with her was going to be. Relationship. It was strange for him that he used that word, and he wondered why it had been so strange. Before he had an answer, he knocked out cold, and woke up with her head on the pillow beside his, staring at him, and that’s when he noticed something was wrong.

It was as if she were sad, and he tried to remember a word that his own mother had used a lot. Melancholy. He decided that the way her roses had started to wilt, it had made her look melancholy. For a second he considered if he had said something wrong, had said something to upset her, but he waved that thought away, because he knew she couldn’t think, but it was still difficult to not feel as if something were wrong. And then he had a terrible thought: what will happens when the roses wilt, what will happen to my love? The thought was terrible, to him, because it made him wonder if his love was only attached to such a small aspect of her, was only dependent on the roses in her eyes and nothing else, as if that was the key to his beauty. And if that were true, it would mean that he had thrown his career, his life, away just for a pretty thing with fading looks, for a temporary passion, even if it was unbelievably strong, and it was difficult for him to accept, that he didn’t really love her in any true sense. So, he decided to simply not accept it, he decided that he was a passionate romantic, that his love could withstand any challenge, and that he would do anything for her, which happened to include saving her eyes, to make her serene again.

While he was trying to think of a way to help her out, he stroked her hair, and mumbled to himself. At some points, he worried about how crazy he would probably seem if somebody had walked into the room. Several plans had been mulled over, but none of them were satisfactory, or even realistic. One of them involved turning her into a partial vase, but that could ruin her, maybe even hurt her, then he wondered if he could just place her in water, but that would probably cause her to decompose quicker, which faced him with another issue. What was he to do if he saved her eyes, her passion, but the rest of her started to rot away? If he was left with a skull with the eyes intact, would he still lo-no! Of course he would still love her, his love would never die, but it would be reasonable to assume that if she rotted away, down to being just a skull, then wouldn’t that be as if she were dead? If the roses had wilted and died, couldn’t that be the same as death? He figured this was so, because he had to love her immensely to have done everything he had done, and if he loved her that much, it could never leave, only she could, and then he started to wonder what would happen at that point in time, and how was he supposed to go on living without her, if he loved her so much?

That night, he placed her on his chest and talked, again, while staring into her wilting eyes. Talking was difficult this time around, but he just made sure to act in the same way he did the previous night, he tried to keep her from noticing that something was wrong, not stopping to correct himself on the fact that she couldn’t notice a thing, and it was all a display for himself anyways. “You know, I’ve been wondering… Who the hell did that to you? What were they trying to say with it, what was the purpose? Like, I love you so much, and I don’t need any meaning to it as long as I can feel it, but it just makes me wonder how this happy accident came along, how you ended up being as amazing as you are now. How you will.. keep continuing to be this amazing.” After only twenty minutes, he became uncomfortable, feeling his love waning, and decided to turn on the television to watch it with her, just so that he could have an excuse to stay silent. What the hell was he going to do for her, to keep her alive?

At some point he had fallen asleep without knowing it, and when he woke up he had suddenly found his answer, an answer that he had to go through with before he could think too much about it. He told himself that he didn’t want to think too far into it, because love wasn’t something that you could understand through logic, it was something you felt, something you knew. Before he would go through with the plan, he looked once more into her wilting eyes, which had shed a petal or two, as if she were crying, then he began to write. ———————————————————————————————————

When she first started working as a maid, she thought that it would be interesting to see what people’s rooms would be like, as if she were able to get inside of everyone’s business, to see what their lives were like, but after two weeks on the job she had seen it all, and she had run out of reasons to enjoy her work, but at least it still paid her, at least it was better than working at the old folk’s home. However, on this day she would find her work to be interesting when she would open the door to room 217, after knocking and announcing house keeping, to which there was no reply, and she assumed nobody was in the room. Inside of the room, at first, was a little strange, there was a large feeling of something being off, but she hadn’t spotted it yet, so she fixed the first bed, out of the two twin beds, when she noticed the note on the nightstand, addressed to: Whoever finds this. The note read:

If you find this note, and find my body [this was enough to make her uneasy, and give her goosebumps], I will need you to do me a favor. If you believe in love, and want to keep love alive, then I need you to put my girlfriends head onto my body, so that she could continue to live, her eyes can shine with passion, and my love can pump into her through my heart. I know, it may sound a little crazy, but trust me on this, I learned this from a message I received in a dream. I learned that if I want to keep my love alive, I have to keep her alive, and to do so she will have to make better use of my body than I did. I never used it for anything good, all I ever did was work, and it was as if I had always been dead. Even though her love has seemed to bring me back from death, I know that I am more used to it than she is, and would willingly go back into that dark place, that void, if that means that she could continue to live in my place, to keep her eyes alive.

One of the maid’s first instincts was to leave the room, to not learn what the hell the note was talking about, to leave whatever mess may have been hidden from her view for one of the girls on the later shifts, but she realized that she couldn’t throw away the first opportunity for interest she’s encountered in over a year on the job, because even if it was terrible, it would be enough for her to think about when she would continue on with the job, and maybe she could use the sight to take a paid leave, if it was horrible enough. However, when she searched the room, and finally checked the bathroom, she saw a disembodied head, which was starting to rot, and had wilted flowers in its eye sockets, staring at the body of a man whose head was bent over the edge of the bathtub, with a large knife in the back of it, that was attached to some coat hanger set up that she didn’t have enough time to look at, because the head on the counter, the sight of the knife only halfway down into the neck, like a failed guillotine attempt, and the fact that the man was still somewhat alive, and even looked up at her, was enough for her to regret her decision, walk out of the room, get to her car, and drive away from that place, deciding that the retirement home wasn’t so bad after all.