Bushy brows was awake at 11:08AM, but he kept still on his couch, blinking in the feeling of being alive probably. He laid there until 11:52AM, grumbling at the freezing morning temperature, or was it hot? I didn't know really, but I assumed that it was a bit colder judging by the way Arthur shivered. It had rained yesterday after all, which by the way, I was a bit fearful that my body washed away in the rain. The house was on a slope after all, and it had been raining pretty hard. I wondered if Arthur decided on what to do with my body, and was interested in finding out.
Until about 12:24PM, I was spacing out and watching Arthur scuttle around his house. He had a bunch of bags and a knife in his hand, ready to go out in what was now the sunny afternoon. I guessed that it wouldn't rain any time soon after that and wished that I had gone out and did more on my given opportunity. "What have you decided to do with my body? If it's still there I mean." They were the first words I had spoken all day, so it seemed strange. I hadn't said good morning, and neither had he. In fact, he hadn't spoken at all. Was something wrong?
"I'd rather you not know." He murmured, heading out of the back door. I didn't follow him out, but I stood before the screen door leading to his backyard. I saw him duck under the house with my body I assumed. I heard the bags rustle, and I figured that he was just going to stuff me in a bag and throw me into the river at that point...but I knew very well that my body wouldn't be able to fit inside one of those bags. That's when I realized what Arthur was going to do. I gasped and began to poke my head out of the door until I remembered the sunlight and stayed inside. Instead, I sunk under the house through the wood and crawled a bit to where Arthur and my corpse was.
I was a mess, a disgusting, shirtless mess crawling with ants and spiders and...Dieu, I was like a prune, swollen and almost distorted. My skin was so damn pale and seemed so wet, my hair was disheveled and falling out. I had fucking holes in me and- if I could feel queasy then I would have been. If I could have thrown up all over my face then I would have done so. And to make matters worse, there was Arthur with that knife. "I wouldn't stay down here if I were you, love." I shook my head and clenched the dirt beneath me.
"I'm down here either way. Um...What are you doing exactly?" My voice was really frantic, to the point where it even made me nervous, or maybe I was already nervous. Whether I was in my body or not, I had a knife at my skin, and I certainly didn't want it there.
Arthur pressed the knife harder onto my skin, but not enough to cut me. "You really want to know?" I didn't answer, staring at him, wide-eyed in fear. "Well you see, if I do it this way, no one will really identify the body even if they find it. Afterwards, I'm going to have to have to smash the bones and then possibly burn them depending on how the bones smash." He then cut through my skin, deeper and deeper.
"Oh mon Dieu! Arthur stop that! Don't touch my body! Don't destroy it anymore than it already is!" I screamed various other protests but he continued to cut through me with his knife. "Arthur please I'm begging you! Just stop it! Just throw me in the river or something!" I didn't want either, but I didn't want to be in pieces as Arthur planned. He continued on, and I almost began to tear my hair out. "Arthur please!"
He stopped and focused on me and my what he must have thought was an overreaction. "Francis, I don't want to get caught and this is a nice solution to my problems. Now you can stay there and watch or you can go back into the house." I had never imagined a situation like this, and never in my life had I ever wanted this to happen. I watched in horror as he sawed through me, and I, my dead corpse self, couldn't even raise a protest. Something in me reminded me that I would never be in the body again anyway, so it didn't matter. Another part of me, the part that I was siding with, was screaming for me to protect my body, to preserve my face, my limbs, my everything, no matter how horrid it looked at the time. With a quick movement, I wrestled Arthur's knife out of his hand.
My attempt was futile, because he knew the magic words, "You can't touch that knife, Francis!" The knife fell through my hand and fell to the ground. I tried to pick it up again, but I was unable to. I wanted so badly to cry, but all I could manage was pleads to Arthur, begging him to stop as he kept on with his slicing. I was ignored, and I watched as he pulled off my body's leg. With a loud swear, I passed through the wood and remained inside the house, cringing in a little ball. I couldn't stop him, and the only thing I could tell myself was, "He's doing it so he won't get caught. He's doing it so he'll be able to stay with me. He's a love-struck fool is all, and I'll forget about this." I never really forgot, and I never will forget.