I retrieved a carving knife and a bread cutting knife. There was also a miniature hacksaw stashed right by the pipes in the drawer underneath the sink. I needed the bigger one that you saw trees with but I took it just incase. Damsile's body was noticeably lighter when I removed it from the bath. Flushing the blood proved difficult as it had thickened considerably. I tried stirring it as much as my strength and endurance would allow. The results were better than nothing. Thank god there was a toilet plunger. Lord knows how long it would have taken otherwise.
It took at least an hour and a half to drain the bath completely. There was still a long way to go before I was done. I decided to decapitate the body before cleaning up the dining room. That way, the most heartbreaking part would be over and I could cry my tears and move on. I could not afford emotions right now because time was of the essence. The head was relatively easy to remove as half the job was done already.
Blood was still dripping from the body. This meant I had to drain it manually. I removed the bed sheets from the duvets and whatever i could find in the wardrobe. Made a makeshift rope. The burglar bars on the windows would act as a pulley system. This was achieved by the same methods you would apply when tying luggage onto a car. You pull the rope, in this case sheets tied together, through the first two bars from the inside. The next two bars would have the rope running through from the outside. Then a half slip knot at the end that you would keep tying the further up you pulled the rope. This to ensure the grip did not fail. After setting this all up.
I tied Damsile's headless body. Wiping tears throughout the entire process. I then placed her body back in the tub after filling it with boiling hot water to ensure the blood stayed porous. Inch by inch I pulled the sheets through the bars. Slip-knotting each time i reached the length of two hands. The body rose up as mine kept ducking down. I pulled and pulled until only the beginning of the shoulder line was touching the bath. I tied the final slipknot. My hands hurt and my back stung. The sun was sitting on the horizon so there was no opportunity open for rest.
I drank some water and made a peanut butter sandwich. I didn't care about the blood anymore. Eating as is with stains on the bread. As long as I could banish the hunger pangs of my hangover. Feeling reasonably energised, i got down to cleaning up the mess in the dining room. Scooping up the bloody paste. Gathering the broken shards and candle wax. Scraping off with a butter knife what couldn't be removed by hand. Mopping the floor and wiping off the walls. Returning the furniture to its original positions. I finished after what seemed like forever before being able to return to the bathroom. Taking a moment of contemplation and preparation before I did.
The blood in the bath was still watery as I had made it a point to check up on the waters heat every now and then. Draining whatever build up was present and repeating the process thereafter. There was very little blood left at this stage. Only pin prick amounts.
I got to cutting off the shoulders. Learning that to get through each side with the knives, I had to break the joints multiple times. I used this method for the arms and hands as well. This was all like cutting up cows and sheep for ceremonies and what have you. Things we had done our whole lives in the village. Whether you accepted the practices or not, as a man you were not permitted to sit on the sidelines and watch others toil. Having been living in the city for at least four years give or take, it had been a while since I was involved in those activities. But auto memory was currently on display. Memory told me the part I hated was coming up. Opening the guts.
Earlier I had tied a scarf around my face that I had found in the main bedroom. It did a reasonable job. But it was no match for what hit me when I sliced open the abdomen. The insides fell out in a liquid covered mess. Splashing all over the bath, the walls and on me. The odour was unbearable. Much worse than those of an animal. I spent so much time removing the scarf. By the time it came off my head was still turning to locate the toilet. I sprayed the hot and cold water pipes running across the wall with vomit. The side of the toilet too. 'More stink and more to clean,' I lamented in my mind. Staggering to the toilet bowl for the second round.
Rinsing my mouth and splashing my face in the sink, I then rushed to the kitchen to retrieve all the salt and vinegar I could find. A whole bag of salt as well as two bottles of the regular and apple cider versions of vinegar. This was the first time I noticed the traffic outside. And the sun that was in full shine over the horizon when I peeped through the curtains.
Damsile's phone was ringing. I thought of ignoring it but I knew there had to be communication from her one way or another. Otherwise someone might decide to investigate. That was the last thing I needed. I left the salt and vinegar in the bathroom. Washed my hands thoroughly. Then began to go through her messages and phone calls.
After watching her finger movements on numerous occasions, I was able to crack her phone pattern on the second try. I responded to the calls with text messages. Did the same with text messages received as well. She was not part of too many groups. Only a select number of friends, family members and work colleagues. One of the messages from her colleague read, <I have your book. Stop by me first. XO.> After scrolling through previous responses to gauge their speech patterns I responded with, <Thanks choma. I don't think I'm coming in today. Hangover mzala. I think I'll see doctor bae for sick-note. Bring it tomorrow choma. XO.>
There was a group chat from the residents of the community with numerous messages pouring through. My heart pounded thinking someone might have posted seeing or hearing something weird going on in the house. That was not the case yet but I made a mental note to check on this group regularly. One mistake on my part and I could be going to jail. That horrendous smell was going to have to be tolerated a lot longer for my own safety. A couple of toy-boys had sent messages too. Damsile and I were only a couple of weeks into our relationship so she had not cancelled most of these phonies from her life yet. I responded to them with generic <I'm not in the mood> styled answers. I knew she was still in contact with some of them. It didn't bother me in the least. As long as I was her number one. The one who satisfied her and gave her all the love she deserved. Then all the men in the world meant nothing.
Pretending to be her was turning out to be quite the entertaining escape. It had distracted me from the depressing devolution of a previously joyful night out. I put down the phone and hastily got back to work. Grabbing chunks of salt, I distributed it onto the intestines. Popped the bottle of vinegar and dispersed it the same. I gathered it all into a black refuse bag. Then placed that inside another one. Then a third one just to be sure.
Wrapping up the intestines helped alleviate some of the smell. But the stench was so strong by now that it didn't matter. I vomited anyway. For the third time. All the vomiting had me feeling faint at this point. But I had distracted myself one too many times and I couldn't afford to take any more breaks.
I cracked open the ribs so I could remove the lungs and heart. Broke the spine in three places to allow the dividing of the torso. All of this was to make sure the refuse bags could be shut airtight without any room for error. I untied the slipknots until i could reach the nooses around her feet. Once loose, she flopped into my arms.
I separated the thighs into two halves. Cutting off the legs and feet before breathing a sigh of achievement. After packing all the parts as securely as the plastics would allow, I moved on to the next stage. Sterilising the house. I knew getting rid of every single piece of evidence was impossible. Including stains. The best I could do was run through the sequence of events. Remember every item of furniture, kitchen and bathroom utensil, every door and cupboard handle and miscellaneous item.
The first thing I did was find those yellow rubber cleaning gloves that they sell at the grocery store. They would stay on my hands for the rest of the operation. I also found bleach, abrasive agent and half a litre of bubble bath in the bathroom. I started with the bleach and abrasive agent. Making sure to scrub thoroughly regardless of whether it looked clean or not. Going through every room incase I stepped in there but forgot. I followed this up with a second mop and scrub using the bubble bath.
There was a marked difference after these efforts. For one I could breathe again. As overpowering as the flowery smell was. It was better than that other one. During the mopping and scrubbing I had taken all of my bloodied clothes along with Damsile's and put them in the washing machine. I ran the wash cycle twice. Then extracted the clothes so I could clean out the bottom of the machine. There was noticeable debris that needed extrapolating. I did the same with all the drains incase I missed a spot. Did I mention I was naked the whole time?
I was satisfied with my work at this stage. Or it could have just been the hunger pangs. I fixed another peanut butter sandwich. Making sure to avoid cooking at any cost. Drinking glasses of milk mixed with egg yolk. I only removed the gloves so I could chat on the phone some more. But I had to put some clothes on at this point incase I left a hair or bum impression on the sofa. If the police were smart enough they could find such things. So I needed to make their job as difficult as possible.
I found Ndololwane's clothes hung on one side of the main wardrobe. Shoes kind of packed one side as well. All of his shirts dangled past my limbs. Pants too because he had no shorts. I had to settle for a button up T-shirt and folded a pair of brand-wood pants at the heels. After stuffing three pairs of socks onto my feet, I managed to fit a pair of his shoes. He had that old timer style to his dress code which made me feel old. But I would have to go outside eventually so I didn't mind.
Damsile's mother had sent a <please call me> request. I responded with, <Mama I have the biggest headache. I can't talk now. Let me see how I feel later then we'll talk. Please mama. I'm going back to bed.> What looked like her boss had also messaged her after he had called. <Where are you. Were supposed to have a meeting in 30 minutes. Call me immediately.> It was sent 38 minutes ago. <I'm so sorry. I've had diarrhoea since early in the morning. My body doesn't feel okay. I'm gona see the doctor as soon as I'm able. I cant see myself coming in today. I'm so so sorry.> I re-read the message and laughed at my cunning. They had no idea a man was speaking to them. The rush was exhilarating.
I sat anticipating the next message. But I could hear people talking outside. I suddenly realised I was still in Damsile's house. Ndololwane could return any time. Or someone might knock at the gate after seeing the car parked outside. My mind left fantasy land as the paranoia took hold. Who were the people talking outside? What were they discussing so hard? I wanted to look with all my heart. But my sub-conscience was still telling me that everything was hidden and nobody knew there was anybody inside. But what if she's friendly with some of the neighbours and they come over for a visit? Or to ask for some sugar? What if someone wants to borrow something, or they borrowed something and now they want to return it? What if these people are talking about they saw last night? The thoughts wouldn't stop.
Over and over they kept playing in my mind. Scenarios. Sounds. Cars. Is that the police honking on the street? Are they honking for me to open the gate? I needed to occupy myself. Otherwise I wasn't going to make it. I began exercising. Jumping jacks and lunges across the passage way. Pushups. Pull-ups. Knee-ups. Running in place. Anything I could do without the assistance of weights. In no time I was out of breath and sweating. Sweating was no good. After all the cleaning I did, I couldn't afford to have my DNA just dropping to the floor. I stopped the exercises before they went too far. Before I got a real workout and messed everything up. Being careful was hard work. Then the thoughts came back.