Can You Hear Me Now?

Chapter 10

   I stood there watching, waiting, for something, for anything to happen. Minutes passed and then an hour. Yet I still was unable to take my eyes away from the boy's carcass. Enchanted by the way his lightless eyes stared up at the ceiling fan, that was slowly rotating overhead - barely cooling down the sweltering room. Soon the world around me became nothing more than a tingle. It felt like I was dreaming, but I was wide awake. My heart was racing and I was sweating like a hog, though I was not afraid. I felt almost rejuvenated, it was like I was a kid again. It actually excited me.

     However I couldn't shake the feeling that I had made a mistake. Perhaps I killed him too soon? I should have been more patient. Asked more questions. Or maybe, just maybe, it was regret that loomed over my head? It was the writer inside of me, I couldn't help it. I hated to see stories go to waste... even if they were garbage. Though I suppose my feelings didn't matter in the big picture. Marshall Underwood was dead, and I was the one who killed him. Now it was time to hide the body. I had already picked out a nice resting place for him not to far out of town.

     Acquiring the small metal pliers from their tray, I begin the tedious process of removing Mr. Underwood's remaining teeth and fingertips. I had read in the news the other day that they had identified some guy using only his teeth. Though I knew it wasn't going to take them long to find the body, I had to buy myself some time. A week at the least. But since I had pummeled his face, it now resembled that of a beehive, I was sure that it would give them some trouble.

"Not such a pretty boy now are we?" I snickered pulling a black trash bag over his body. I had to fold him up a bit. But in the end he still fit. Grunting,I lift him from the chair.

"God kid, ever consider going on a diet?"

         Mr. Underwood doesn't respond as I load him into the  trunk of the car. The moon bears down on us, passing it's judgement as I get into the car.

   There was not a single peep as we drove through the city. All of the bars had made their final call. Shops had closed for the night hours ago. Even the crickets who normally filled the air with joyful hums had gone silent. I had the whole city to myself, and it was blissful. With no one but the stars to bear witness to my crime, I felt at peace. Besides it wasn't really a crime anyway, that boy was a menace.

I catch a glimpse of Sage's bookstore as we drive by. A pang of guilt fills my chest for all of the hurtful things that I had said to her. I should have never yelled at her, but I was too blinded by my anger to see the damage I was doing. The fault belonged to the boy in my trunk not to her.  As soon as I was done here I had to make things up to her.

I couldn't help but wonder how many people he had tortured before my arrival. How many parties did he throw that lasted well into the night in hope of getting unwelcomed neighbors to move away? Disturbed the peace of the good people in this city? Annoyed his professors? I was sure the list was endless after all he acted more like a roach than a person.

The car rattled as I pulled onto the old dirt road that led to the river.

Now.

Sure the boy was handsome, popular, and came from the loins of a rich business owner. He had a lot going for him, but I doubted anyone was actually going to miss him very much. Not truly. Well maybe the bartender at Schaller's or Simon's (bars just about 25 minutes from here). I wouldn't be too jazzed if my best paying customers up and died without paying off the rest of his tab.

  I chuckled as I put the car in park not far from the river's edge. My shoes sink into the soft mud as I escorted Mr. Underwood old of the trunk. He's kind enough not to leave any stains. I thank him by covering him with large rocks once he's laid down in the river.

"Wouldn't want you floating away now would we?''  The sound of the rushing current swallowing the trash bag was his only reply. People rarely ever come to that section of the river so as long as he stayed put I would be fine.

   With the deed finished I get back in the car. I had to hurry back home and begin cleaning. Day break would be in a few hours and I had an apology to make.

The basement is absolutely hideous! It looks as if a murder has taken place. There's blood on the floor, walls, even the ceiling... maybe I had been too messy... well it's just a possibility!

There will always be new experiments and trials that I can do to correct my method.

I'm almost astounded by my own thoughts. Is this the writer in me or am I just this sadistic? I imagine Mr. Meowgi standing next to me, letting his giant eyes roam the room in fascination. He's the reason this needs to be done. We had been together through everything for him to just have lost his life to these monsters!

But by doing what I did, does that not make me a monster as well?

I shake the thoughts from my head before slapping a mask on my face and twisting the nozzle on the hose I carried from the back door, letting streams of water begin to wash the dark blood off the walls. The smell of bleach filled the room releasing a god awful smell as it combined with the smell of Mr. Underwood's now old urine. All liquid swished down the drain in the middle of the room.

This is it. I have begun.