Her - Short Horror
Her
Before I tell you my story, I know some of you will think I'm twisted and sick, or evil. But that really isn't the case. Well, not much anyway. Also, at least one of you will totally understand.
They're the ones to watch.
I'd been thinking about it for weeks. How I'd do it, and what I'd do when it was done.
I wanted it to last for as long as possible. Not the killing, but...... the after.
At first I didn't think I'd be able to kill her, then I started giving myself reasons. Like, she was messy and noisy, or she was barren, or why should she sit around all day doing nothing, while I worked. We barely saw each other anymore anyway. You know, the usual excuses. Anything to justify your actions.
As I sat at my desk that day, listening to Janice ramble on about profit and loss and blah blah blah, I decided that tonight was the night. I hate to admit it, but I got a little aroused at the thought.
The house was dark when I got home. I opened the front door, stepped in and purposefully left then lights off. I poured myself a glass of whisky and opened the back door. I sat on the step, breathed in the cold night air and sipped the burning courage. I listened. All was quiet, and I knew she was asleep. Good.
I finished my drink and decided it was time. The second I thought it, my heart started pumping and adrenalin coursed through my body (or was it whisky). Either way I was both excited and scared (and once again slightly aroused).
I removed my shoes so as to make as little noise as possible, and quietly put my ear to the door.
I could hear her making those fucking annoying noises. The anger made me want to just run in and do it. But I took a long slow breath and told myself not to waste this chance. slowly I turned the handle.
It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then I saw her, eyes closed and fast asleep. Making that god awful noise she makes. Not quite a snore. More like a bubbly grunting noise.
She actually looked quite beautiful in this light.
For a split second I thought I shouldn't. Then she made another bubbling grunt and I was annoyed again.
I took a couple of steps towards her and my foot happened to knock something over.
In a flash her eyes were wide open and locked on me. She knew.
I took two quick steps and jumped at her with outstretched hands. She managed to just stay out of my reach. I stood up, super angry that i'd tripped on her messy shit. With her back against then wall, she was breathing fast. I saw her eye the door, then me, then the door.
In a flash, she made her play and just as she got level with me, I kicked her, hard. I heard all of the wind escape her chest in a forced scream. As she flew across the room
I was on her this time. My hands round her throat. Squeezing. She was screaming and kicking and scratching. But I held on tight and squeezed harder and harder. I could feel bones creaking and cracking in my hands, and still she kicked. I straddled her chest so she couldn't move her legs.
Something wasn't right. She wasn't dying.
I had to do something else. I grabbed her head and started twisting it while pushing up. I'd seen it done on some survival documentary, but never thought I'd need to use it.
Then it happened, quite quickly. A distinct snapping crunching noise. Her eyes glazed over and the kicking subsided to just little flicks, and then stopped.
I knew she'd gone, but I held on. I kept squeezing and twisting, knowing I'd probably never experience this again. I wanted to enjoy it, to savour it.
Then a thought went through my head. Should I fuck her? That would be a whole new experience. But reason took over me. If I did that it would spoil my real plans. I mean. I couldn't eat her after I'd fucked her. Could I?
No!
She would be tainted.
I mustn't.
I carefully lifted her and carried her out, then through the door and upstairs to the bathroom. I gently laid her in the bath and stared at her as I undressed.
The bath was definitely the place to do this.
I carefully positioned her so her feet were higher than her body, slowly sliced her neck all the way round and watched the blood flow a dark crimson river to the plug hole. I remember thinking the contrast between the white bath and the dark iron filled liquid was quite beautiful.
I must have spent a good hour or so carefully carving pieces from her and laying them in the sink. I only wanted the choice bits. Her breasts were large and I knew I'd eat them first, probably tonight.
When I'd done, I carefully put her unwanted remains into a black bag and showered. I dried myself and put on a soft white clean robe. It felt infinitely more luxurious on my skin, as I thought about the contrast of what I'd just done.
I picked up the "meat" and closed the bathroom door behind me. I'll deal with the rest tomorrow, I thought.
I put some of her flesh into the chest freezer and carried her breasts to the kitchen.
I sliced them thinly and cooked them in a garlic butter, served them with green beans, charlotte potatoes and chives.
It was done. I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay and sat at the breakfast bar. Looking down at my plate, I realised how beautiful she looked. A gently cut a piece off, pushed it into my fork with a green bean and a piece of potato and put it in my mouth.
I felt a tear slowly roll down my cheek.
This was the best tasting chicken I'd ever had in my life.
ATG
