Disclaimer:
I don't own. I wouldn't advise reading without watching the movie first, but
you can if you really want to...
The scissors.
They cut like a hot knife through butter... and there was no thought on her
part. Just, oh! Look! There they are! There they are and there you are, hurting
me... let's put two and two together, shall we? Oopse! Now they're in your
head. Goodbye! And sorry about your hands there...
The blood.
There was so much of it. Red, red, everywhere! It was like Alice In
Wonderland... painting everything red. It ran like a red river, the knife the
thing that broke the dam. It ran like oil down his face, down his chin, down
his neck, and pumped and oozed onto his palms before rolling down the side of
his hands.
The crying.
It stopped. It was almost instantaneous that it stopped. Replaced by quiet and
a mouth that curled innocently in a mindless O, eyes that grew a little wider
then they should be, empty hands with little drops of warm, sticky liquid on
them, absent of the mass of an object previously held. A grown woman replaced
with a little girl...
Him.
He looked so shocked he could have been in The Scream… and he was all colored
red. Painted red by the Queen of Wonderland. Painted red now off with his head.
No! Not his head! Off with his arms…
Her.
May.
She didn't say a word. She didn't move a muscle. She didn't even
breathe... she just watched. There he was, slumping down to the ground. There
she was, standing there, slightly hunched, watching him.
It was taking a long time to register in her mind, what had happened, and most
importantly that she had done it. Everything was coming in slow, thoughts
flowing in a snailish stream like maple syrup sliding out of the tree.
She tried to think of it, but she couldn't. She wasn't feeling anything... she
wanted to know what she was supposed to, she wanted to know the correct
response, she wanted to know how she was supposed to react...
Of course, that's not to say that she always knew exactly what to do and did
it. Often she knew exactly what she was supposed to do but couldn't do
it... she was always so shy, so hesitant, so small. She was terrified of doing
something wrong; utterly terrified! She wanted to be perfect... she wanted to
be perfect all the time but she never could be... so she often ended up the
exact opposite.
The only time she ever truly felt comfortable was with Susie... when it was
only she and Susie. Even when she was alone she didn't feel comfortable... she
was afraid when she was alone. She hated being alone... but when it was just
Susie and her, everything was perfect, everything was just fine... Susie loved
her and never judged her... and she loved Susie... even if they got in fights
sometimes. They were so much like sisters...
But what did it matter? Susie was gone now...
And there was no correct reaction to this situation. There was no easy,
understandable sensation that was supposed to be on your mind. It wasn't like
when you go to your first day of school, or you spend your first night away
from home, or you have your period for the first time, or you're asked on your
first date, it wasn't like any of these things... it wasn't like when a pet
dies, or when a favored relative comes to visit, either... it was...
... Murder...
A whimper threatened, but she swallowed it down. She was not afraid of what she
should be at this moment. She was not thinking like a normal person. She was
not worrying about police, or being caught, or hiding the body, or explaining
how it happened. These things never even entered her mind...
She was afraid of the feeling in her chest, that there was no feeling in
her chest.
She remained silent as she slipped down to the ground slowly, her hand trailing
along the cold plastic of the refrigerator, guiding her way to the floor. She
stopped when she felt the cold aluminum through the backside of her pants, and
allowed her hand to hesitantly twitch off the fridge. In that same nervous,
twitchy fashion -– as if she were thinking otherwise and changing her mind
every three seconds –- she wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her
chin on her knees, still starring at the body on her kitchen floor.
A small red puddle was gathering.
She wondered if it would stain...
That was a brief thought; she couldn't really care too much about that, right
now. Apathy was so strong inside her that it almost burned and she
didn't know how to handle it. It should have frightened her, but fear was only
a weak nub trying to push its way out of her subconscious.
But the numbness was spreading rapidly, the apathy was taking over, the tear
tracks were still so damp on her cheeks. He'd been mean to her... he'd hurt
her... so many people had hurt her... so many people... with... perfect... parts...
Perfect parts.
She raised her head and her light brown eyes widened to almost perfect circles.
That was it! That was it! Parts! Perfect parts! Other people... other people
had perfect parts... put the parts together... put the perfect parts together.
But first... first... first...
First she needed the parts.
She looked up, in that same fidgety manner, at her counter. There was a
blender, up there, a toaster, a microwave... and knives...
Knives.
A little showcase of knives... knives of several sizes... maybe not perfect
knives, but knives that would work… knives that would do the job… they didn't
have to be perfect; as long as they would do the job.
She unwrapped her legs and, with a few little whimpers of effort, used her arms
to pull herself up to her hands and knees. She crawled a crossed the room
slowly, too fucked up to walk, until she reached just below the counter where
the knives were.
She reared up on her knees so that she could see them. She stretched out an
arm, reaching, reaching up, patted the holder, until she found a nice, big
handle she though would do the job. She pulled it out, and slumped back on her
butt, sitting on her knees.
She looked at the knife, enchanted, she watched the light dance golden/white on
the silver blade, watched her reflection on the metal. Beautiful. It was
beautiful. She looked back at the corpse. Ugly. It was ugly... except those
arms. She put two and two together and began to crawl towards him, the handle
of the knife clenched in her hand, the blade pointing outward from her body.
Him.
He was an ugly person, a cruel creation of the modern world who couldn't accept
anything different, who couldn't accept anything outside his own little
organized scenario... and he didn't deserve the beauty that he had... not at
all.
The knife.
The knife was the beautiful savior, designed to retrieve these perfect items from
their horrible captor. It was the beginning stages of something so beautiful,
so perfect, you couldn't even comprehend…
Her.
She was the inbetween. She was like The Virgin Mary, designed there to bare and
create this perfection of everything God, himself, had screwed up, had been
unable to perfect. No, she was not playing God at all... she was fixing his
mistakes.
Amy.
The knife went in, just above the shoulder. Yes, careful not to harm
that lovely shoulder. Oh! Look! More blood! It's running down his chest, it's
running down his side, it's running all over her hands, it's running down her
wrists, it's staining her knife.
Look at how the knife shines... this truly must be justice! This could be a
sign... the knife shines red –- bright, bright red. A red never so bright
before –- instead of silver or whitish gold. It shines red, just like the blood
running out of his body...
Now that arm's free. Now the other one; now a chop, now a slice; but all is
done carefully. She's not so sure how it's supposed to be done but she
does it the best she can.
She'll look it up later.
A is for Amputation!
Chop, chop, slice, slice; there it is. There it is, there is the beauty, there
is the perfection, free of the ugly, free of the cruel, free of the beast...
and soon to be something so much better.
That deed was done, she'd taken what she wanted from him. She stood up,
bringing the arms with her, and set them down on the counter next to the sink.
She slipped out of the room, and grabbed a sheet –- a plain white sheet -– from
the linen closet. She came back, and laid that sheet over him. She didn't pay
much attention to him after that...
She went back to the arms, in the sink. She washed them, until all the blood
was off of them... then she dried them, and the splotch of blood they'd left on
the counter, with paper towels... then she wrapped them in thin white cloth,
and stuck them in the freezer with the dead cat.
The cat.
It had also been cruel to her... although she hadn't meant to kill it. She'd
just been so angry, so she threw the first thing she could find –- the ashtray
Petey gave to her –- and she hit it and, Oopse! It was dead.
Slowly, she slunk away from the kitchen, without another look at him, without
another look at the body. Blood was still on her hands, she hadn't bothered to
wash her hands, but it was mostly dry by now. She stumbled into the living
room, until she couldn't really stumble anymore, and then she dropped down on
the floor, sitting oddly.
It was time to think now. She needed to think now. She needed to think like the
smart May she had always been… like the smart May... not this... not the May
that had done that to the boy in the kitchen, the one that acted on impulse and
feverish ideas.
She didn't know the other May was gone... well, not gone, but fused with
the May she was in the kitchen. They were the same person... this new May, the
killer, and this old May, the smart one, were one and the same now.
She tried to think logically, but couldn't. All the parts, all the perfect
parts, and all the cruel, ugly people who possessed these perfect parts... all
those horrible, false, sluts and jerks... they were all flashing inside of her
head... Polly with her perfect neck, fucking that whore Ambrosia, with her
perfect legs... Adam with his perfect hands, who lied to her and betrayed
her... and more... more... They were taking over.
And then everything stopped... and everything was silent... and everything was
black... because that was the way it could be, if only she simply took
those parts... she knew it from the boy in the kitchen... all she had to do was
take... and then piece together... and Susie... Susie, too... everyone...
She lit a cigarette, took a puff, and came to a final decision.
"I need more parts."
~ Fin ~
