There's something to be said for killing someone you love. There's no other feeling quite like it. It's very therapeutic. It's all about closure. It's all about love. It's all about whatever you have to do to not feel like a shit bag when you wake up in the morning. You get up, then start the daily intake of caffeine then maybe choke down some food. Then it's off to work where you resume your life as the pathetic wage slave you are. Daydreaming of how unproductive you can be on your own time when you leave for the day, and most especially on your days off.
Previous to her demise Veronica was what got me through those days. She was the stability I required. She was the pleasant thought that made my day a little easier. She was my god, my Jesus Christ. She was also a two-faced back stabbing sluty bitch unfortunately, and in the ultimate tradition of all the gods of men I killed her. Now she is my martyr, which is so much more then she was. So much more then she could ever be, or ever hope to be. That was my gift to her, that and 113 stab wounds. But we'll get to that a little bit later.
I am so much different now it's hard to even comprehend how I was before. Weak, that's a good word for it. I accepted far too much with out question. But like the butterfly I have metamorphosed from my former ugly husk to something much different, much more whole, much more distinctly man. Freethinking, questioning, and most importantly doubting. That was her gift to me, that and screwing every guy that ever gave her a second glance behind my back.
I had suspected but refused to believe she was cheating on me for a long time. That thought was too unsettling to my reality when it first surfaced so I pushed it back down. I got off work an hour early one day, and on coming home I caught her in bed with some poor schmuck. I quietly left the house and went to a bar, to kill time until I was supposed to be home. She never knew I was even there. Honestly the cheating was really the straw that broke the camels back.
She was a bitch was what it all boils down too. I had known her a bout a year and a half and it had never really sunk in until that moment. I think that if she had been a better person I could have over looked the cheating. We all have our faults, I know that I certainly am not perfect. But it was over that beer, at that bar, at that moment that it finally came to me that in life she had no redeeming qualities. She was a complete waste of flesh. That was when I knew the course of action I had to take, and it was that second that seemed to defy time that I began to premeditate the murder of my girlfriend.
I knew that I had to be smart about it so I continued on about my usual daily grind, which went a little easier because I knew it wouldn't be long before I was done with this life. I began reading a lot more and discovered how easy it is to create a new identity. Over the next month I constructed a complete new identity. This also seemed appropriate because I no longer was the person that had lived in that apartment with her. I may have only buried one body but there were two people in it.
I decided to kill her in the shower. For the record while I have always liked the movie "Psycho" it did not influence me in this choice. Nor do I identify with Norman Bates, he's a crazy bastards far as I'm concerned. No, the shower decision was a purely practical one. It would be the easiest room to keep the mess down to a minimum in, also the easiest to clean up after. Another factor was the fact that I doubted there was any way she could get past me if something went wrong and she tried to escape.
The fact that I knew she would soon die was starting to affect my relationship with her. It actually improved it quite considerably. You could say I fell in love with her all over again. She just couldn't get to me any more. The last night we spent together was I would say the best time I ever had with her. I went out of my way to be extra nice, surprising her with flowers and making her dinner. We had steak and stuffed mushrooms, her favorite and my specialty. I must say she was very pleased with me. I also had a bottle of wine, which we drank, but I only had one glass, for appearances.
Next we retired to bedroom, where we had the best sex of my life. I brought her to orgasm several times before I myself came. I climaxed while looking in her eyes, and I whispered,
"I love you."
I think that was the most honest and perfect moment in my life, to date anyway. It was beautiful, that is the only way to describe it. Any other description would tarnish it, and memories are important. What other possessions do we really have?
It was her habit to take a long shower after sex, and she got up to do just that. I just laid there perfectly still enjoying the moment, and smoking a cigarette. The irony struck me as funny that I was having a peaceful and contemplative moment while slowing killing myself with the smoke seconds before I was to commit murder. I laughed out loud.
Next I got a black gym bag out of the closet, that was where I had everything I would need in it. I pulled the knife out of it. It was a large extremely sharp knife, and it felt good in my hand. I smiled and kissed the blade for luck. Then the hour was upon me, and it was time to act.
I stepped in the bathroom still naked with the smell of her sex on me. I reached in around the curtain and stabbed her in the throat with out a word. What else was there to say at this point. There are times for words and time for action. This was definitely a situation that called for the latter. My first stab was quite accurate and she never had a chance to scream. She did however make a strange gurgling sound as I continued to stab her time and time again. It was kind of funny in a pathetic and insignificant way. The sound of steel on flesh is a pleasure that I had never known and it made me grin.
She had fallen almost instantly to the bottom of the bathtub, and it was going much smoother then I had imagined. I had managed to contain all the gore inside the shower, which would make this much easier. It took me a while but I managed to cut her completely in half, which was small enough to fit her in the very large suitcase I had bought for precisely this purpose and had lined with garbage bags. She was a petite girl anyway, only standing 5'3" and probably weighing 105 lbs. She was a cute little brunette that now fit snugly in my oversized suitcase.
Next I thoroughly cleaned the shower and put the ruined shower curtain in the suitcase as well. It took me about two hours all together and I was ready to go. I had a great idea on getting rid of the body. Where do bodies go? They go to the cemetery of course.
I drove to this out of the way cemetery where there was no traffic at this time of the night. I had been checking it out this week. I noticed there were some graves already dug for upcoming burials, and that's how I got my idea. I got my shovel and left the suitcase in the car. I went out to a already dug grave and began digging. I dug an extra three feet down. Then I went back to get the suitcase. I put the trash bagged wrapped body and shower curtain in the hole and recovered it to correct level. I made sure I didn't leave any tracks and left.
I now sit in the bus station. All that reddish work is behind me. At my side is my gym bag containing my new identity and four thousand dollars. We had taken this money out of our account yesterday on the premise of buying a new car today. Clever of me if I don't say. I doubt her body will ever be found, and I suspect they will most likely try to pin the murder of her and myself one of here flings. Oh well shit happens.
I don't think I'm crazy, or a psychopath. I just did what I had to do, for me. I don't have any plans to kill anyone else, but the knife is in my bag. I won't back down if it is what needs to be done. I will over come all obstacles in my path. I am the maker of my own destiny. I control my future. But enough of that for now, there's a new city in my future, and I'm ready for love. It's a brave new world out there, and it's perfect for the new me.