Seven Minutes Early

How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so stupid, why didn’t I remember? It doesn’t matter now, though. I’m here and I have to move forward. At the top of the stairs, John stood in a dark hallway dimly lit by a cracked door at the end of the hallway. John was drawn to the light almost instinctually. The warmth of it seemed so kind, his whole body relaxed, goose bumps lowered and his brain calmed. That one beam of light turned into John's whole world as if his future lay behind it. Before he knew, he was at the door pushing it open and it swung in soundlessly. It took John’s eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the blinding light that filled the room, and what greeted him was far from comforting, it was hell.

Blood stained every wall of the white room even the ceiling. Chunks of what looked like flesh clung to the bed, lamp, and the floor. In the center of the room stood Mark. He was covered in blood from head to toe as if he had bathed in it. The only things that peered through the red were his eyes and mouth piercing white, bright as the sun against a red sky. Mark stood in between two naked bodies, one man, and one woman, both covered in blood. The woman’s chest had been ripped open, snapped ribs stuck out at odd angles and blood poured out like a lake draining into rivers. The man looked like he had been sawed in half starting from between his legs, which were torn apart from one another. The splayed flesh went up to the man's sternum, and intestines and other organs spilled out. The only thing in common with the two bodies was that they were headless. Both looked to be decapitated crudely, the state of the flesh remaining around the necks was loos and jagged. It was not until Mark moved closer to him, that he could see the two missing heads. They were simply chunks of flesh covered in blood-clotted hair in the middle of the bed. One face was instantly recognizable; it was Monica. Her face was twisted in a lasting image of the terror and in her mouth, a human heart. The other skull appeared to be that of an older man, at least fifty based on gray hair circling a bald head like a halo decorated with splattered blood. In his mouth looked to be the man's genitals. The scene was so graphic John's mind couldn’t comprehend it, his eyes darted from one thing to the next in fascination and disgust.

Mark spoke up and broke the silence, “You should have waited for John. You would have lived longer. You could have taken credit for this beautiful crime, as the police wouldn’t have any other suspect. Your fingerprints and DNA are everywhere.” Mark spoke deliberately and with great control walking slowly towards John who was still transfixed by his surroundings. Mark spoke his last words directly into John's ear as he plunged his knife deep into John's stomach.

“I will make you beautiful too.”

 

End

 





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