Wendigo Island (ONC2024)

ACT III: Revenantly Defiled

Marie/ Entry 15/ I've lost track of the months

I wouldn't let them touch her. She is a beautiful soul, and they have no right touching her with their filthy hands. Neither do I for that matter, but at least I know that. At least I can respect her as I defile her.

I wish we didn't have to do this, but Karla would have wanted us to keep going. I started with a cut down the middle and one under her chest, like an autopsy. I plunged my fingers deep into her and scooped up her guts in both hands. I was struggling to pull them free, though, until Blain wrapped his arms around me and lifted my wrists. Several things snapped and slumped between my fingers. I cradled her insides and set them on a piece of metal from the plane shaped like a jagged bowl.

Once all of her guts were removed, I reached up under her ribcage and broke her lungs free with a few twists. Blain didn't need to help this time, which is good because his fingers against my skin made everything under my surface crawl. I placed her lungs in the bowl.

Next, I removed her heart. Her precious and wonderful heart, full of passion and fire that no one could ever tame. It was still warm with her spirit when I placed it in the bowl.

Blain put the bowl over a fire and stirred in the last of Karla's performing liquor to make a sort of stew.

I kept working.

The skin came off slowly, but surely. The skin doesn't want to come off, but it is not difficult to peel either. It was tedious, but Karla deserved the utmost reverance. If I would do this, I would do this right. So I cut a single slit along her every limb and her smallest digit.

I lay the skin out on a large stretch of bark and cut it into pieces. Pieces that could be fried up like pork rinds.

The only skin left was on her face.

I couldn't bear the thought of mutilating her face, but it had to be done. She was smiling the whole time. The swelling had gone down on her face, making her beautiful once again, but the rest of her was devoid of skin, all sinewy and wet.

I was drooling at that point. The thought makes me want to hurl, but I have to keep her down, or I'll just end up eating more. I need to quit calling the meat 'her'. It's not her anymore, it's just meat now.

Meat that is so tasty it made me cry with every bite. Blain and Mute did not cry, but they had the decency to look ashamed and hesitant. Ron did not. He laughed as he told jokes and ate the fried skins. I don't remember his jokes. All I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

Yet, I did see Ron cry once as he was looking at his breifcase. I'm eating him next. When we run out of meat, I will slit his throat while he sleeps. Then I'll open his breifcase and piss on whatever is inside.