The Devil Made Me Do It – 4 – All Hallows Eve.
Wasn’t that something! So who was it? Who in the end claimed that I, the great Satan, made them do it! It was Dotty, of course, as you can see, she is standing with Colin and Jonathan on the stage. Oh, she blamed me for all her problems in the end. ‘Oh, why’d you make me do it! I only wanted to please you, Dark Lord.’ Yadda, yadda, fucking, yadda.
I do not need to be pleased. I do not need some human to do my bidding! I am lazy at times, but I am not that lazy! I am not my father, so I do not need or demand your worship. I am happy just the way that I am. Who would not be happy with perfection? Why would I need wiggly tiny humans to feed my ego? Ha! I have enough without your help.
Or, I could be lying.
The rubber suiting was pulled over their body and then wrenched the hood up and over their head. They tucked in the remaining hair and then put on the goggles covering their eyes and brows. It was not elegant, not particularly clever, but what it was, was safe. Aldi, four pints of milk, some ham, a loaf of bread, and a wet suit with goggles. Aldi never change, they thought, as they tied the bags around their shoes and then slipped on the leather gloves. Now they were ready.
They looked at the screen with the eyes of a hawk. The only light in the room was the glare from the monitor, and it fell flat on the black wetsuit and reflected back from the goggles. They stood in silence as the prey they had captured struggled on the display. They knew that the victim was secure, but they always liked to watch them struggle on the table first, like an appetiser before the main course.
There was nothing from the viewings, no satisfaction. Lord knows they wished that they had. The only thing that gave them anything was the final act. They had tried everything, but this was the only thing that worked. Was it because it was the ultimate taboo to take another’s life? Were they just wired differently? They only knew the emptiness that flowed throughout them when they went without. They needed to feel something. Without feeling, what was the point of life? It was an addiction.
They pulled the doors open to the kill room. The room was covered from floor to ceiling in thick black bags, and they were taped together and then hung from wall to wall to cover every spot. Not a glimpse of light-coloured paint could be seen, nor could it peek through and watch. A builder’s lamp was the only source of light. They walked to the far corner and disconnected the camera they had placed there. What happens in the blackened room stays in the blackened room. There would only be two witnesses, and only one would leave the room alive.
Their eyes looked over the selection of knives on the black bagged covered table. They then eenie-meenie-miney-mo’d between each blade. They knew where they would end up; this was theatrics playing to their audience of one. After all, young children figure out rigging eenie-meenie before their tenth birthday. They sang aloud as the finger jumped cheerfully from blade to blade. Bouncing their little pinky from silver to silver. The victim could see what they were doing and hear what they were singing, but they could not reply. With the knife selected, they grabbed it and swung round to face the victim. An upside-down crucifix was painted white on the top of the rubber hood that they wore. They leant forward and removed the rags from the prey’s mouth.
“Who are you!” the small-framed man asked without panic. “What do you want with me?” he said next as he watched the black goggled face. “Do you know who I am?” he asked. The face just nodded back without making a sound. “I am a man of God!” the man stressed, “did you know that?” The face nodded once again and did not say a word. The man, the man of God, was composed throughout. “Why me?” he asked. The rubber figure just stared back at him and still said nothing. They jumped the knife from hand to hand, throwing it like a juggler with a ball from left to right.
They drove the knife forward and into the man of God’s neck. The pin-sharp tip sank into the neck as easily as a needle through a thin fabric. They pulled the blade from the skin, and blood vomited from the wound. It was then, the moment that the blood splashed into the goggles, that they felt it. They looked at the room in the blood-red shade as energy, life, excitement, love, and desire flooded through them. The orgasm of emotions filled every millimetre of their whole, held against them by the wetsuit and tingling with excitement as they shuddered. They felt recharged, and they felt human once more. The action of taking life to feel alive.
The body twitched its final spasm as the last of the blood trickled from the wound and to the floor. The deed was over. The moment gone. The elation and feeling of life did not last as long these days. The fix quick, the high quicker. They were running on a full tank for now. They leant over and picked up the bone saw from under the table. They held the bone saw by the trigger handle in one hand and the knife in the other. They walked back to the table, wiped the knife clean on the man of God, and then restored it to the case. They then returned to the deceased body.
They slid the bone saw – also Aldi – along the skin on the lower calf. They placed a hand on the top side of the blade and applied pressure. The teeth of the saw zigzagged with each movement over the skin, and soon, it was down to the bone. The bone crunched like cracking ice as each tooth cut, and the blade was moved faster. The blade lifted and dropped with each tiny staircase step of fangs as it devoured the bone, skin, and flesh. They could feel every bump. With the one leg complete, they moved on to the next.
Finally the body was chopped into parts and lay on the table. They stacked the pieces, first the torso and then the arms and legs piled above and beside it. The head was placed on the top, and it was as compact as they could manage. They then put the bone saw next to the head and walked to the corner of the room. Grabbing and pulling from the corner, the black bags fell away in their hands. It was as designed, and they dragged the corner over the body parts and covered them. They then moved to the other three corners and completed the ritual.
They then stood on a small stool and plucked the bags from the roofing, pulling the plastic down in one go, folding it, and placing it with the body. Finally, they pulled the bags from the floor and let the blood flow onto the hard stone. They wrapped the bags and body up and then strapped duct tape around the package. In the corner of the room was a hosepipe veiled from the kill by the black bags. They walked to the hose and washed the blood down the small drainage hole in the middle of the stonework. It would be drained into the water system and forever forgotten. They grabbed the ajax and bleach from the side and covered the floor. With the room cleaned, they would return to scrub the floor; they left.
The body sat alone for a few minutes before they returned, pushing a small wheelbarrow. Wheeling it to the table and then pushing the packaged body into it. The body fell with a thump; it fit perfectly, just as they knew it would, as it always did. They placed the knife set on the body and pushed the barrow from the room. Once through the door, they closed it and then locked it. Slipping the locking padlock together with a satisfying click. They manoeuvred the barrow to the car, opened the boot, and tipped the body into the rear. They had bought a Citroën just for this purpose. With the body in the boot, they stripped from the wetsuit, removed the gloves and bags and then placed them all into a second black bag and dropped it into alongside the packed body.
Tomorrow’s business would be to dispose of the body, finish the cleaning, and wash the wetsuit, goggles, and gloves. For now, they had one more thing to do. The engine hummed as the car started; they checked every light before setting off. They drove at just under the legal limit. They used indicators at every needed point and watched every other car. Getting caught now would be unacceptable. They turned the final corner, still driving like a conservative Sunday driver, and pulled into the drive. They left the car and locked all the doors before heading toward the house.
They slipped the key they had cut into the lock and turned it slowly. The key turned, and they pushed the door open without making a noise. They slipped inside and closed the door and then slid the security chain over, looping it around the catch. With the door secured, they walked to the stairs and placed a foot on the bottom step. They stood still and recreated what had happened in their mind. They were checking the ins and outs of the whole night. Ticking mental boxes to make sure everything was done correctly. Once they were satisfied, they crept up the stairs.
On the landing, they strolled straight to one room. They knew exactly where to go. They opened the door and walked into the room that housed two children. They snuck between the beds positioned against opposite walls and looked down at both children as they slept. “Good night,” they whispered and left the room, pulling the door closed as they did so. They then headed to the room at the head of the landing and opened the door. They closed the door, walked into the blackness of the room and sat on the bed. They removed their clothes and slipped into the bed. They threw their arm over their partner in the bed. “You’re late,” the partner said with a sleepy voice. “Just busy at work, you know how it is,” they replied as they closed their eyes. Sleep well humans. You can never be sure who you are cuddling in with. Happy All Hallows’ Eve.