Our Marriage in Pieces
Staring down at the plastic bags won’t make this process any faster.
My look fixates on the several plastic bags in front of me.
I took the day off to drive to the local hardware store.
There are more pressing matters here at home that are worse than a few clients trying to sue some landlord who won’t fix their mold problems. I grip the handle of my coffee mug tightly and continue sipping the sweet bliss of the liquid caffeine.
This won’t be my only cup for the day; I’m going to be up all night trying to figure out how to get out of this mess I put myself in.
The bags in front of me are more important than the lukewarm coffee I’ve been sipping on for the last half hour.
The sound of the plastic crinkling is louder than it should be.
I pick up the three bags and a pair of kitchen scissors, taking them to my ensuite bathroom.
Leaving my mug on the granite counter, I walk over to my wife’s lifeless body as she lies on the plush carpet.
It’s reminiscent of the way I have seen her lie on her side of the bed many times before.
Only this time, she isn’t asleep. She isn’t coming back.
The plastic bags are bulky and inconvenient, but for everything the clerk puts in them, it makes sense. The bags fall on the marble with a loud thump in my large bedroom. I begin to empty the flimsy bags and put them in order of how I will use them—planning out my actions, if you will.
A plastic raincoat is first in my line of items. Next, a clear plastic tarp will help in the disposal of Ashley’s body without leaving too much of a mess. The now tiny, confined, wrapped square will soon be large enough to cover the whole bathtub.
I grab the medium-sized box next. The red box with the black outlined picture of the minisaw stands out under the clear plastic box.
The tape on the box’s opening tears off easier than I anticipated.
I’m able to remove the saw from its box in one fluid motion.
The black cord attached to the battery charger is neatly wrapped with plastic and a zip tie.
I set the tool and rechargeable battery aside and examine the long list of directions and warnings.
Gently, I set the manual next to the minisaw.
I cut the zip tie that binds the plastic-wrapped cords with the kitchen scissors.
The long cord quickly falls out of the casing.
I plug the rechargeable port into the outlet next to the large mirror in front of the white bathroom counter.
That should charge while I continue my preparations for Ashley’s body.
The other bag contains a few normal household items you would use in home repairs.
There isn’t anything normal about what I’m about to do.
Just a necessity. A package of latex gloves, a roll of duct tape, paper towels, and a bottle of bleach.
I’m sure the employees think I was buying what I needed to finish a project I had started at home.
They may have been staring at the tarp and minisaw with uncertainty, but said nothing when I paid with cash.
My morning task begins as I walk to my living room and shut my white curtains before turning off the lights in the living room and kitchen.
Nothing to see here. I make my way back to the bathroom and focus on the items in front of me on the floor, stepping back from the bathroom counter. Remove my clothes: check.
My gray sweatpants fall to the marble, leaving me in my bright blue boxer briefs.
I take off my black T-shirt. It falls on top of the pile.
If I get that bitch’s blood all over my clothes, I’ll have to burn them.
My arms slip through the clear plastic coat, and I situate it on my sculpted form the best I can. This will have to do.
Next, I unwrap the clear tarp and lay it across the large bathtub, making sure to smooth over any creases or folded-over edges. The tarp covers the bottom and the sides of the tub perfectly.
As I walk into our room, I stare at her body. She is still lying in the same spot with her neck facing upward. Her leggings hang a little looser on her slim hips than I remembered, and the cropped sweatshirt she has on hangs a little lower at the middle of her ribcage.
“Baby, look at the mess you've gotten yourself into,” I say, walking towards her bare feet. My fingers move towards the waistband of her leggings and tuck them underneath. “We both knew this wasn’t going to work. From the time I saw you in high school in that tight little cheerleading uniform. As bad as I wanted to fuck you, I knew you would be just like everyone else.”
“We were supposed to be the picture of perfection.” The black fabric moves slowly down her legs, as I tug it down to her small ankles. “We were the couple everyone thought they wanted to be,” I add as I fold them in a pristine stack and set them on our bed.
My blood begins to boil when I turn to face our wedding picture in a silver frame on her nightstand. “What a waste of money that night was. ”
Next, I move up to the waistband of her pale pink thong, carefully grabbing the delicate lace in my fingers. “As much as I loved these, Ashley, I knew they were never really for me.” I fold and place them on top of the leggings. Two pieces down, two more to go.
Her sweatshirt is the most difficult.
“Arms up, baby,” I quietly suggest before I gently fold her toned, tan arms through the sleeves.
It’s astonishing how the body bends and folds when it’s no longer in use.
Folding her arms through the sleeves is the easy part, but moving her abnormally broken neck through the headspace is like trying to play the game Operation.
Instead of a buzzing sound, it would be replaced with dislocation.
Her blonde hair passes through the opening with ease. Another successful removal. All that’s left is her pale pink, lacy bra. The second half of the last matching set that I will ever see her wear.
Unhooking the metal clasps holding her breasts is an easy task. I had undone them several times before. “I guess I’m not the only one who took this off of you, am I, baby?”
I pick up her lifeless body and sit her back up against my chest. Slowly sliding the pink, silk straps down her slender arms, I watch her bra drop to the floor.
“There you go, baby. All ready for our next step.” Sitting her gently back down on the carpet, I add the bra to her stack of clothes.
You never truly know the concept of deadweight until you’re holding your wife’s lifeless body in your arms. Her body falls limp over my shoulder, and I carry her over to our bathroom.
I lay her down softly on the clear tarp in our porcelain bathtub, making sure to cradle her upturned head in my arm.
Aside from her contorted neck, she looks peaceful .
My eyes trace over her naked body at the same time I put on a pair of light blue latex gloves, snapping the band along my exposed wrist. It’s almost pathetic how eager I am to use my electric mini saw.
“Oh good, it’s charged.” I grab the appliance and unplug the retractable cord from the white electric outlet. The battery makes a satisfying snapping sound when it slides under the saw’s handle.
With my feet tucked under my thighs, my eyes scan over my masterpiece. It’s a shame it will all be destroyed in a matter of hours.
“Where would you like me to start, Ashley?” I graze her body with the blade, starting at her shaved pussy and moving down to her ankles.
“How about we go in order?” I move towards the end of the tarp where her toes barely touch the edge, flipping the power switch forward to the on position.
The sound of the mini saw isn’t as loud as I expected it to be.
The many years of watching 1980s slasher movies had trained me to believe differently. Of course, those were gas-powered.
The chain moves so fluidly around the blade. I stare with my mouth agape as it slides smoothly into her golden skin. “You know, baby, it’s been too long since we’ve had time to ourselves like this. You know how the saying goes, saving the best for last.”
Pools of blood pour from her left ankle. The red liquid sprays against her adjacent leg and splashes against the white surface of the tub. I push the saw through to her bone, listening as her ankle separates from her calf against the tarp.
“Sorry, I’ll try to be more careful next time.
” I move to the other side of her body and line up the blade with the exact stroke of the last cut I made.
“It’s the fine details that matter,” I inform the body lying in front of me, watching closely as more blood pours out from under the other ankle.
Ashley’s once tanned skin tone is now that of a sick child.
The new hue of her flesh stands out in contrast to the crimson puddles collecting beneath her.
My fingers run up to her thighs. The feeling of skin against latex is not what I’m used to, but it’s what I have to limit myself to tonight.
I squeeze her flesh and place the blade of the mini chainsaw in the skin right above her knee.
The blade slicing into the flesh is so fascinating, unlike anything I have ever seen before.
When you cut anything, it’s such a simple concept.
It’s just as easy to put something between two sharp blades.
The smooth slice is so simple and mundane.
Cutting through skin, however, is complex.
Watching the blade cut through the layers of tissue and muscle is so fascinating to me.
The way the different tissues ooze out vastly different colors of reds, the varying yellows among the different layers of her skin.
I could examine the precise cuts all night.
Hearing the blade hit the hard bone and listening to it crack sends a whole new sensation throughout my body. It’s like ASMR that I could listen to for hours, lingering on the line of a discovery and release.
After gently setting Ashley’s femur on the hard surface of the bathtub, I lean over to reach the other side of her body.
I repeat the process and slide the blade into the velvet texture of her skin, listening closely to the crack of splitting bones.
The sound that radiates through the bathroom is a new melody that I cannot get enough of.
I watch her blood paint the tarp and the white surface next to me.
The sound of her blood splashing against my clear coat echoes in the acoustics of the bathroom, reminiscent of raindrops hitting an umbrella.
I watch as the red drops slide down the plastic covering on my chest and my arms. Hitting me in the face and across my lips.
The strong smell of copper overpowers the fumes of her expensive perfume.
More of my money is going down the drain along with Ashley’s blood.
I stroke my chin and examine the project at hand. Ashley’s body is almost completely dismembered.
All but one major piece.
My legs are wobbly as I walk on my knees right next to her, bent neck running my fingers through her now tangled golden highlights. With careful consideration, I grab my mini saw and plan out where the perfect cut would be.
“Don’t worry, Ashley. It will all be over soon.
” I press the power button near the bottom of the device and slide the moving blade through the tendons right below the flat surface of her chin.
Her decapitation is easier than I would have envisaged.
Her head gracefully separates from her slender neck.
Her wide, beautiful, blue eyes stare up at me as I turn off the mini saw in my hand.
The clear tarp that was once a blank canvas is now a beautiful picture.
Different colors litter across my canvas, each speaking to a layer of life.
Crimson for the blood that once flowed through her veins, and shards of bone glisten in the gore, their brightness undeniable.
Hues of amber colored tissue intertwine with the carnage, standing out against the white tub.
I continue my project by letting each limb separate from the bone. Each one of her sections is a beautiful puzzle piece I would happily put back together and break apart once again.
She is my masterpiece.
Her once tanned, large, round breasts are now bloodied.
What was previously attached to my living and breathing wife is now a part of a separated torso.
My light blue latex gloves are painted with the blood and other various fluids of my wife.
They’re a struggle to peel from both of my hands.
I bend down and rub my bare hands over her still chest, making sure to stop at her breasts.
Her tits feel like I remember, only this time, they are cold and covered with drops of her crimson. I rub both of my thumbs over her nipples slowly, and my cock stiffens in my boxer briefs.
Still on my knees, I lower myself to her hardened nipples.
I take them in my mouth one last time, sucking on them gently and adding pressure with my teeth.
My tongue slowly moves over her pools of blood, allowing myself to taste her one last time.
With one hand, I pull out my cock while the other is on Ashley’s breast. My hand moves up and down my shaft, using her blood and other vital fluids as a lubricant.
“Fuck, baby,” I moan. I move my hand faster until I start to feel my balls tighten.
I look down at the rest of her separated limbs.
The sight alone sends a fresh coat of white, giving my work of art just what it needs.
Looking down at what was once my wife, I notice what is now just a jigsaw puzzle of a woman.
Like my nanny used to say, we must put away our toys when we are done with them.
I strategically move her pieces in a way that I can wrap her up and store her somewhere else, usefully. In this case, it’s a few black trash bags I had under my kitchen sink. After I determine how much would fit in each bag, I pull out three large bags from the packaging.
One bag for her feet, calves, and thighs.
One bag for her torso.
The last bag is set aside for her arms, head, and delicate hands. I pull off the shiny band of her wedding ring and examine the diamond closely, wiping the few drops of blood from the clear cut between her forearm and her wrist.
“You know, it didn’t take much effort picking out your wedding ring.
White gold, thirty-five carat, white emerald-cut diamond.
It was the most expensive thing I could find.
Your eyes were always filled with dollar signs.
I knew instantly you would say yes to my proposal.
It’s too bad it couldn't keep you from riding some other man’s cock. ”
I tie up the plastic drawstrings of the final trash bag after staring at her blue eyes under long, blood-stained lashes for the last time.