I would not let him die soon, so I injected a high enough amount stuff to keep him motionless but aware of what I was going to do to him... that's it, you got it. The stuff paralyzed him but it was not anesthetic, no sir. He would be fully conscious and his nervous system would feel it all.
Being a professional, I wanted to do a good job and I turned the recorder on, narrating: Male, fortyish, a hundred and ninety in height and a hundred and ten in weight; light blue eyes; possible cause of death: ingestion of barbiturates... As I started to dissect, blood started flooding the sheet and stretcher.
It was only normal for him, not being dead, to have a high heart rate and a high blood flow, which caused him to spasm and squirt litters and litters of blood through every incision. I couldn't help but notice that every time the scalpel cut, his body shook and his body hair rose, which made me feel like nothing I had experienced before. I was smiling with satisfaction. I slowly took Igor apart... alive. The image of the girl in the paper was always on my mind. Broken and deformed. And seeing the pain and suffering reflected on horrified Igor's eyes was so satisfying I eased up on the cuts. I didn't want him to die before it was time.
What Igor first saw and felt, was a bloody line opening from his neck and down into his groin. his eyes, opened like dishes, reflected deep fear and pain in the face of that savagery.
His open mouth made no sound. the muscle relaxant did its job well. He could feel it all but was unable to move a muscle, not even his vocal cords.
Seeing him this harmless and helpless made me feel sorry for him... So I moved to the next phase. I cut his right testicle, slowly, Watching his expression of horror and pain. while I did it, I imagined the sweet little Russian girl. Igor's eyes couldn't open up bigger than that and his body was entirely electrified. I was starting to grow bored with him, yes, I missed the screams and I regretted paralyzing him so thoroughly. I could do nothing about it so I had to get whatever enjoyment I could from the suffering in his eyes.
When I moved the scalpel to the other testicle, it was almost as if he was trying to sink it into his insides; I wouldn't give him the satisfaction, I did a quick cut. I imagined him trying to live his life as a eunuch and I started laughing. He wasn't going to have a life after this, of course. I did great work on the next parts of his anatomy: ears, nose... I had particular fun with his nipples! It even seemed to have hurt more than when I cut his balls; his body twitched as if I had giving him an electric shock.
When I had nothing left to cut, I left him for a while, waiting for the drugs to wear off and question him conveniently, I didn't think he would find any reason not to, I still had something else to cut.
Before he died I kindly convinced him to tell me why he had killed her. Things are never as they seem and I was about to find out big time:
Some big mouth (my brother) had the bad sense to tell him my mother was coming to live with me, with all her belongings too. The only valuable thing she owned was a stamp collection that was older than her. She didn't even know what their worth was, to her those were only stamps with drawings on them. I have to say my father got her into it, because he started giving her a new one every birth day. Yes, instead of flowers or any other silly thing, he brought her stamps. His reason was, apparently, that he wanted her to be taken care off when he was dead. Un-romantic? Fuck! Some guy said that the stamp collection my mother got together (thanks to my father) was worth around seven hundred and fifty thousand Euros! And how did they know? Simple, the Russian girl got my mother to show it to her so she could take some pictures, which this bag of shit soon started to research to find its true value. I could give you headaches telling you all the kinds of stamps my mother had in that collection, but suffice it to say she had a string of them from 1850. Not too shabby!
I haven't the shittiest clue as to how a construction worker like my father got to have those gems or if he bought them by working overtime; but as soon as I was done with the guy, I put those stamps in a safe place. I gave a present to the guy before I slit his throat: his balls and ears and nose stuffed in his mouth. He wouldn't keep quiet after the drugs wore off, the crybaby!
Am I making you sick? Suck it!
Or well, fuck it, which I guess is a lot more fun than reading my ramblings. Anyway, I was saying... almost done.
I was saying this guy Igor (all Russian men are called that) got that girl in my house thinking he could get his hands on the stamps, but he didn't count on the girl growing fond of my impossible mother and took the most absurd of decisions: To deny him the stamps.
He couldn't allow some trash fly to rebel and tried to convince her by all means possible , even threatening her with hundreds of ways of dying. HE was about to break her and get her to steal the stamps. It was then that her conscience got the best of her and decided she could no longer care for my mother and said goobye to me saying she was fed up with the woman. It was her death sentence, but these motherfuckers had a few days of horrible suffering prepared for her.
The bastard was almost proud when he told me this. I say almost because his constant wailing made it hard to know for sure. First they beat the shit out of her and then he delivered her to some clients. She was still a virgin, so her meat was worth a lot in the market.
She was handed to some rich sadistic fucks, an impotent bunch of worms that get off by hurting people, in a group, which is the way they like it. I felt like an angel, in the shadow of those fucking predators.
So this bunch got to work on the poor Russian girl. What they did to her, I keep it to myself. I swear I will find these men and, one by one, I'll make them suffer like they did to her.
I got their names and addresses. Igor even had some telling videos that he could use for blackmailing and he told me where he kept them. Don't even think a killer like me can harbor those thoughts! You'd be right.
I hated and I killed, yes, but for other reasons, never out of pleasure or spite. I'm... something else.
Chapter 9
Can a psychopathic killer have a heart and feelings inside of him? Tough question, right? Have you ever been inside the mind of one? No, right?
So... do not ask me why I did it! I would say... what the fuck do I know?!
Fucking Igor might be asking himself that question. That is, if there is life in hell.
Well, I had my fun killing and I disposed of the body and cleaned and disinfected it all. Didn't I tell you? We had a crematory. I went to have a beer and get some air. I felt like partying after so much excitement, I wanted to get my freak on, so I had three beers in the bar right across the lab. they knew me for a freak, I spoke to nobody or allowed nobody to speak to me, I didn't even have to ask for a drink, whenever my glass was empty the waiter knew he had to bring another one and then again, until I signaled for the tab. It was different this time. When I had my third beer I left a ten euro bill on the counter and left without saying good bye. You know, the usual.
I'm getting crazier by the hour and therefore I'm doing more crazy stuff and making less sense. I had good old Mathias at my heels and I go and play the avenger. Good going! I'm such an imbecile! Getting to this point all I can do is smile. In a way, I love the feeling of being persecuted. I was tired of not having a rival, a match. Someone to play head games and outsmart.
Given the chance, I could always just finish him off and, holy shit! find me another one.
When I got to the street I took a cab, I didn't feel like driving and I was heading far away. I had a friend I hadn't seen in a long while. She might be able to unwind this knot of excitement I carry in me.
Friend
When I got to her house (a splendid house in the middle of Montseny's natural landscape) that day at about five in the evening, the wind was blowing eighty miles an hour strong. Mallorca was two hundred and twenty kilometer away and looked amazing through my friend's telescope on the huge terrace. When she saw the cab pull in, she ran to the door in the garden smiling from ear to ear.
We had known each other or twenty years
. No, we weren't always a thing. It was only after se parted ways with her asshole of a husband and I had sent my own to hell. A classic story, I call on you for comfort and you do it too so.. we fuck like dogs! (In a good way). We made a promise to do whatever ballsy thing came to mind (In her case, whatever her pussy demanded) and it had been so to this day. She called me whenever she needed it badly and me, well, I had my days. It was my turn. I felt obligated. I paid the cab driver and told him not to wait for me.
She jumped on me as soon as I got down from the cab and noticed she wasn't any better than I was. She didn't wait for the cab to pull away. We had barely gone in and her hands flew at my pants while my own reached for her breasts, obviously. Clothing fell and flew everywhere and our naked bodies were tight around each other, excited like rabid dogs. she bit me, I think I bit her too, I don't know, we lost our foot on reality. All I know is we rolled on the grass and maybe even over stones (we had scratches everywhere).
Once composed and the fever gone, we took a shower. We did it again. Half an hour later we went to the deck to dine and look at Mallorca.
It was a frugal diner, of course, bread and fruit. We weren't in the mood for cooking and I knew better than to ask. It was all on such short notice and she, being an economist working in an international company, was rarely ever home. We weren't that hungry either.
After a few hours of small talk, the usual:
- What's going on with your life?
- com si, com sa. How are you doing?- I asked.
- Well, you see, blah, blah, blah.- she answered.
That went on for a few hours. Come on, like regular people, right?
When we were relaxed and calm, we got hot again (from that enticing conversation, I guess) so we did what was necessary to put out the fire. On the bed this time, where it all tastes better.
Coming back after drowning my sorrows I had a nice surprise waiting for me in my good friend Mathias's office. I hadn't punched in yet when agent Blowtorch, the lieutenants hairy dog (a pun, since the guy was known for drinking constantly and had never risen in ranking due to his affliction and his affection for whoring without paying a cent, instead threatening the women with fucking up their lives if they weren't grateful for his protection. Mathias had a use for him since the guy could move through pimps and harlots with ease. So he made him his cock-sucking lap dog.
- The lieutenant is waiting for you in his office, Gabriel.- Said the cocksucker.
I gave him the evil eye, they were both getting on the worst side of my balls.
- Tell him I'll go when I'm ready.- I spat at him.
- But... he wants... he says...- Mumbled Blowtorch, slurring the last words.
- Go to your boss and get fucked by him, get it?!.- I shouted, getting in his face.
I stormed off, but into the aforementioned boss's office. I didn't want him angry. When I entered, oh surprise! My new assistant was right there. What a horrifying face he had! Like a character from a gory movie, I mean, he was so fucking ugly! He had a head the size of a plane carrier! Even the Titanic could have made port on his head (if it hadn't sunk) and still have space for another ship. On top of that, he wore specs the kind Jerry Lewis would use. His eyes didn't see straight, I don't know if he knew he was ugly or it was just shame that he felt... And I don't want to tell you about the pimples and acne covering his face, spots red as a monkey's ass (the red assed kind). I shouldn't tell you this and have you call me a xenophobe or worse. (Yes, he was Russian.)
- Come in, Gabriel.- Said Mathias.- this is your new assistant, come Bogdan.- He called as if to a dog.
Shit, I thought, even his name is ugly! I later learned what it meant in some-fucking-language: "God Given". God given? More like given up, but by his mother when she saw his ugly face! I didn't say that, of course - come on- things are bad enough in Spain. It's scary.
- Stop your fucking pondering!- The lieutenant shouted at me.
I wasn't impressed, I've seen him on worse days. Like the time when a petty thief, not knowing he was a cop, (and a violent one at that) tried to take his wallet. Poor bastard! When we got him away from the lieutenant's kicking he was well on his way to a testicle surgery. To make it worse, when the man heard he was a cop, and a lieutenant, he dared say he was going to press charges for police brutality. I believe they call him The eunuch nowadays in the lower parts of Barcelona.
Anyway, this bug here, was my new assistant. Why make a fuss?
And to prove I was a good boy, when we left the lieutenants office I sent him for coffee, because looking at his face was wreaking havoc on my nerves. I thought about causing an accident in the crematorium and put him in there, but I kept my thoughts to myself when I remembered Mathias's look when he shook Bogdan's hand: Better take care of him; he will be my eyes, glued to your ass.
Fucking faggot! Don't listen to me, it is poison to think of Mathias, I don't care about sexual preference when it's time to slice through neck and bone. Gay meat has to have good taste, right? And cleaner, I imagine, I have not killed one yet.
Unless my neighbor was one, I don't know... (his meat was disgusting).
Thinking and musing, I promised myself that my next victim would be gay.
It was impossible to know if she was gay (I couldn't know beforehand). I crossed paths with her that afternoon, after work. I don't even know why she caught my eye. - Maybe it was her noticeable nervousness.- She wasn't cute at all, she wasn't even attractive, if anything she was completely normal. Was that it? Her normalcy? - The thing is, after crossing paths, I followed her. It was strange, she seemed to be talking to someone invisible all the way, to my eyes at least. (I thought she could be crazy). And suddenly, -don't ask me how- she disappeared in front of my eyes. Maybe I imagined it but she was gone for a second and then was back in the next one.
I rubbed my eyes so hard I almost blinded myself. Finally, on Paseo de Gracia #5, in a very dark and creepy doorway, she stopped and looked for something in her pockets, she took out a key, got it in the keyhole, she opened the door and got in. I couldn't waste any time, so I ran to her and snuck in behind her while my hands gripped her neck. I didn't let her react and threatened to snap her neck right there if she didn't take me to her apartment or flat.
It was on the first floor, so no one saw us get in. As soon as we got in I noticed she kept trying for a weird bracelet in her left wrist. The material was foreign to me, so I took it off of her and put it in my pocket. Right until that moment she hadn't been scared, but just when I took her bracelet she started screaming and shouting like a crazy person, so I had to punched her mouth in. At the same time, I pushed her into a three seat sofa in the middle of the living room, right in front of a plasma TV of about 50 inches (or so it seemed, I'm no technician). There was a portrait on top of the TV, of a guy with the meanest look I had ever seen in my life. He was a general or some sort of military high command. I looked everywhere for something to use as a tool. The freak was calm again, after the punch to the face, and she was bleeding. I might have broken a tooth or a molar. I was strangely excited and nervous...
The freak spoke to me then:
- I don't think you know who you're messing with.- She said, arrogant, making me angry enough to punch her again. (I don't usually hit girls). Come on, I never do!- I just kill them and eat them- This time, I didn't know why but I was going over my limits and I didn't like it.
- You don't know what you're doing!- She shouted again.- You're risking more than your life here, son of a bitch. My brother will find you, kill you and kill a lot more people if you don't leave me alone and get the fuck out!.- And she sounded like she meant it.
I had been looking for a tool and I finally found it, so, without listening to her, I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the bathroom. I'd just had a great idea.
The bathroom looked as if had never been used before. It was too clean. I didn't care. I punched her into the room. (I WAS going too far). Once she was inside the bathtub I opened the faucet and started to
strip her. I guess the poor woman thought I was going to rape her, who knows what she was thinking right then? I searched for gauss and bandages in the covet (who doesn't have some?) and I gagged her with cotton inside her mouth. The freak fought back like a woman should and I felt bad about striking her again, almost making her lose consciousness, but she was only dizzy for the right amount of time I needed to tie her up like a sail. I didn't want her body to be marked so I didn't tighten too much, just enough to scare her into keeping quiet. Once she was still, I ran back to the living room, where I saw a fabulous tool to carry out my crime without anybody ever knowing it had been one. It was a strange device but, well, I'm not an expert either. It looked like a new DVD player, round and lined with colored lights, but it had an electrical cord so it would do well for my purposes. When I got back into the bathroom, the freak looked at me with a horrified expression and wide open eyes. I felt no shame. Ever since crossing paths with her I felt the almost diabolical need to kill her. I approached the bathtub and grabbed her face, pushing her in. I didn't want to drown her, just make her lose consciousness. She had to die, yes, but in another way. Once she quit fighting I lifted her head above the water and made her sit. I remove the gauss and bandages from her body. I plugged the strange device into the wall and, stepping away as far as possible, I threw it in the water.
There was a silent explosion of colors while her body twitched violently for a few seconds and the room filled with black smoke and the smell of burning flesh. I opened the window and stayed there, watching her, for about an hour. I felt a fascination I can't explain to this day.
After cleaning everything I had touched or move over, I left as quietly as I'd come in.
Chapter 10
Gabriel, I'm (not) a serial killer Page 5
