7. Santa
Chapter 7
Santa
T he shadows hide my form as I disable all of the security measures for the morgue. I’d already digitally broken into the police mainframe, and made sure to erase any trace of the hit-and-run victim, not to mention I spent a miserable morning destroying evidence in the police lockup, and bribing officers with lots of dark secrets to hide. The prostitute who had the misfortune to suck my brother’s cock is now lying in pieces in the Quabbin Reservoir. To be perfectly safe, and ensure my idiot brother isn’t going to end up behind bars, and as someone’s cum rag, here I am, slipping into the morgue after dosing the medical examiner, and his morgue technician, with a sleeping agent in their shitty coffee. Honestly, they deserve it for just willingly consuming that crap, not that I’m one to talk, since I drank that coal-tasting shit from Chrissy’s diner.
My body is here, completing my tasks that’ll get my malignant father off my back, but my mind is with the auburn beauty who had the audacity to tell me and my brother off this morning. A small smile breaks across my face, as I remember her ‘fuck around and find out’ attitude. My cock stirs in my black pants, at the thought of forcing her to her knees before me. Would she still hiss venom out of that sweet mouth of hers? There is so much anger inside of her, and it calls to me, like a moth to a flame.
I can’t wait to see her again, to allow my eyes to feast on her features, and marvel at how soft her skin looks. I bet it’ll mark so prettily once I start using my favorite toys. Will she beg me for mercy? Somehow, after witnessing her once again in action today, I doubt it. If I can just get this shit done, and out of here, I might still be able to make it to the strip club before she’s done her shift, and watch her from the shadows for a bit before I dare to capture her.
A part of me doesn’t want this game of cat and mouse to end too soon, I’m enjoying playing with my food, and I just know she’s going to taste like the rarest delicacy, once I get my teeth into her.
I approach the temperature-controlled containers, and locate cabinet 2C, the one with my brother’s unfortunate victim. I pull out the drawer, and on its metal surface lies the still and cold body of a forty-three-year-old, naked white male, who was on his way home to his new wife, and crossed my brother’s drugged-out path. If I was able to feel any emotions, I would probably feel sorry for the sap right now. Fate is a fickle thing, and it looks like this guy just didn’t have any luck. Fortunately, none of this actually moves me. The only thing I feel is pressed for time, and the urgent need to get out of here, so I can move on to more enjoyable things. Specifically one Chrissy Cranbrook.
The problem is that my dark desires also beckon; they lure me to commit heinous and unspeakable acts. The sickness in my veins beats a deep tempo, one not unlike the human heart, as it forces blood to rush through my veins. That tempo is a delight to someone like me, and I’m finding it harder and harder to resist it, even though I know it will lead me down a perilous road, one I may not find a way out from.
I pull back the sheet and look down at the damage my brother’s Mercedes caused. There are visible bruises and lacerations over the torso, where the largest part of the impact took place. I’m lucky the medical examiner hadn’t commenced any type of autopsy yet, and the body is still intact. My eyes trace over the slack face before me, the skin already appearing gray and dull, lifeless, an empty vessel. My gloved finger skates over his bloodless lips, then across the bridge of his hooked nose, and over the closed eyelids that hide the windows to the souls, or so they say. I press my thumb firmly against the lid, and feel the squishy eyeball below. With a little more force, I rupture it, and it makes a popping noise that has my cock twitching in my pants. I repeat my actions to the other one, and dark brownish blood squishes out from below the caved-in lashes, and coats his upper cheeks.
I wipe the surface of my gloves against his hollowed-out cheekbone. Leaning forward, I pull down my mask, press my head against his, and take a deep breath of his decaying scent. I draw back, my head tilting as I look at him from all angles. My work isn’t inspiring me, at least not yet. He could be so beautifully tragic. A work of art, really, but my brother did an amateur job of sending him to his maker. I’ll have to remedy that. I reach into the pocket of my dark pants and pull out a scalpel, the sharp metal glinting in the muted light. How I wish I had more time with him, and, at the same time, I wish I was never here. It’s no fun when they’re already dead. You can’t make the dead scream, and I long for the sounds of misery.
A spark of uncontrollable rage rises within me, like a flicker from an electrical current. My arm slashes forward, the blade slicing through dead tissue, cells, and nerves, until a deep gash opens on his cheek. It doesn’t bleed like it should. There’s no spray of crimson to coat me, no rich metallic scent to soothe my lust. There are no tears and words for mercy, just silence.
GODDAMMIT! I slice again, this time cutting through one side of his mouth, and then repeating the action on the other side, until he looks like some grotesque silent version of the ‘Joker’. Still, it’s not enough; I could slice every part of him up one section at a time, and I know with certainty that it would bring me no joy. My cock deflates, not getting what it needs to push me over the edge of my depravity, and the feeling of numbness overtakes me. I resign myself to just getting this over with, so I can find some living prey to assuage my wrath.
I pull out the bottle of acid from the backpack over my shoulder, and tip his head back further on the little stand that cradles his neck, before forcing his jaw to lower and his mouth to open. I attach the angled nozzle to the bottle, and push past his teeth and down his throat, before squeezing. “There you go, buddy, deep-throating like an expensive whore. Bet you never thought this would be your end, huh? ”
I squeeze the bottle until the contents shoot inside and down his throat, burning its way through his tissue. When that part is done, I use my scalpel to puncture a hole in his chest cavity, and produce another bottle, repeating the process. When I’m convinced that the damage to his internal organs is complete, I pull back and stare down at him. “Sorry, fucker, but they’re going to want a closed casket for you once I’m done with my work.” I bring out a mixture of acid that has a thicker consistency and pour it across his face, abdomen, pelvic area, and thighs, essentially tarnishing any possible evidence. “Guess you were a grower, huh? Well, let’s hope your wife doesn’t miss that part of you too much. Maybe I’ll send her a dildo, just in case. Wouldn’t want her to get too lonely.”
When I’m done with the mess, the intoxicating scent of chemicals is making its way through the room, and my facemask itches on my jaw, I pull the sheet back up and close the drawer. The next person to open this is going to pass out from the smell and the goo. Damn, I should have set up a camera, so I could watch their horrified expression. Maybe I can still tap into the camera system here; that way, I can get at least a little enjoyment out of all this effort. “See you in hell, bud.” I tap the closed drawer once in a farewell and make my exit, using the same stealth as I made my entrance. No one will ever know I was here, just the way I like it.
When I reach my car, parked three blocks away in a dark alley with no camera angles, I strip out of my external clothing and throw it into a metal dumpster. I light a cigarette and, after a few tokes, throw it inside. I’ll be long gone before the contents start burning. It’s time to enjoy my night and go hunting for my pretty prey. I hope she’s ready to play with me, ’cause I know I have a lot of energy to burn off.