Dead Valentine (St. Valentine’s)

My Dead Valentine

I always knew I was different. My fascination with death and the human body made me different. As a young teen, I was excited rather than sickened by the porn I found on the dark web. It started with unconscious girls getting fucked. It was hot, don’t get me wrong, but the dead ones… fuck, that shit really got me going. I didn’t lose my virginity until senior year. I pretended to get drunk with the girl as I force-fed her shots. People always say the first time isn’t that great. I call bullshit. I almost jizzed in my pants as I dropped her deadweight to the bed and watched her eyes roll back.

I originally planned on going to school to become a forensic psychiatrist. That way, I could surround myself with people who thought like me, who pretend to give a shit about justice, while feeding my fascination. Hell, maybe some of them could even give me some inspiration. The knowledge that a mortuary science degree would have me swimming in dead bodies was too good to pass up. I was going to make my dreams come true no matter how difficult. I was able to get my mortuary science degree while attending St. Valentines University, while I had to move on with my schooling to complete the forensic psych degree.

Slicing into cadavers has always felt erotic to me. I quickly learned in school to keep myself pressed against the table at all times. It even got so bad, I had to invest in wearing a cup over my cock.

I heard about the perfect job opening a year before my fellowship was done. St. John’s Damascus, a one-size-fits-all hospital in the tiny town of Damascus, Oregon. They were so desperate for someone with my credentials, they were willing to wait for me to finish my fellowship. For someone who’s nowhere near a saint, I found it strange that I kept ending up in places with saint in the name. I was thirty-three when I landed my dream job and I was in pure bliss. I went to locations where people succumbed to natural causes or someone snuffed the light out for them either around town or the hospital itself. Every last dead body came to me. My very own bloody gold mine.

When I finally got the position at St. John’s Damascus and had the space to myself, I got to really play. I’d make sure to lock the door and jerk off at the cadaver’s cracked open chest. I was a single man, and it worked for me, but co-workers started asking too many questions. Apparently it was strange to not only be single, but enjoy it – which is how I hunted down and found my wife, Denise.

There came a time when jerking off to the bodies wasn’t doing it for me anymore, and neither was a conscious Denise. It wasn’t enough, just like the porn of unconscious girls. I could get hard, but I couldn’t cum anymore. I found it increasingly frustrating that it no longer worked. The only time I could cum these days was after Denise was knocked out from her sleeping meds, and I’d fuck her from behind and imagine she was dead. We had a loveless marriage, one of convenience. She found support for her and her daughter Sloane, and I had the perceived normalcy of being a “loving” husband and stepfather. Win-win. Until it wasn’t.

My morgue is and always will be my sanctuary. Home was suffocating. Denise was suffocating. Things weren’t too bad with my stepdaughter. If anything, she kind of reminded me of myself, just without the mask. She was always herself, whereas I kept my mask on and had to act like the concerned family man.

Over time, Denise made it more and more difficult to pretend. I had to play the long game and convince her that she was losing her mind. I made a plan. Set her up to look like the woman had let her demons win, while I remained the grieving husband. I came in my pants when I ran the blade down her arms and the blood spilled around us. I had to force myself to walk away so I could prepare myself to scream, shout and cry on the phone with 911. It’s no surprise I became a killer. If anything, kudos to me for lasting so long. Really edged myself there.

My name is Corbin Thaddeus Moriarty, and I believe that everything begins and ends with the heart…