They say you lose part of your soul when you kill, and I know this to be true. Standing over a body, more a pile of beautifully arranged organs now, I looked down and felt that all-too-familiar sense of joy in my life for ending another's. This particular one was a masterpiece. Completely silent and uninterrupted, I had slit the throat of the sleeping woman, I have no idea what her name was, I just found an unlocked house and took the opportunity, and set to work on my art.
I had done this countless times before, constantly leaving my message as the cherry on the top as a challenge for the cops to find me in each case. Some have been better than others, some have been rushed and unfinished. This one was perfect. Using the blood from her throat, I painted intricate curls on the carpet and up a small section of the wall. I then laid her down in the centre of the backdrop and slit the skin on her ankles all the way around, then proceeded to expertly peel the skin all the way up. This bit is always my favourite, the way the skin just falls off the muscle beneath. Lovely.
Blood pooled around the rudimentary mass, ruining my careful patterns but satisfyingly so, as I peeled off the last part, her face. I then shoved her pillow and blankets inside the skin suit and sewed together the torn parts to create quite the taxidermy if I dare toot my own horn. I stabbed a coat hanger through her 'face' and hung her on the light fitting above the body below.
Now some people say there is only so far you can go, but I'm not one. I cut the long, stringy muscles into strips and laid them out in a bloody spiral around the dismantled figure. In many locations the bone was showing through, stained pink by the blood. Then comes the really fun part. I pulled the ribs outwards and opened up the chest cavity.
Now everyone needs to keep a sense of humour doing something like this, so I decided to do something a little silly. For each organ I took out, I held it to the hanging piñata and impaled it with a rib to keep it there. I also opted to decorate her with a scarf of her own intestines. The rest of the skeleton I just left there on the ground except her spine which I shoved down her mouth hole. The most surprising part about this was that the coat hanger held.
To finish off, I took one of the wetter muscles and painted in red my mark.
Sanguine
This is what they know me by, and what they know my art by. Three hours after I started, I picked up the skull and left the house, cramming the cranium into the letterbox on my way out.
Now, at 4:32 in the morning I clean myself up in the bathroom of my apartment and think about losing a soul. I know for a fact I have killed enough to know I have lost all of mine. It's when people are disgusted just by looking at you and not knowing why, it's when everyone feels your unnatural presence and knows it to be the absolute scum of the earth. That's who I am.
Heh. You really know you've lost your soul when even your reflection turns its back on you.
