Playing With The Dead
Empathy was not a word Quinten associated with his persona. He didn’t feel the slightest emotion as he slid the cold blade into Rebecca’s chest and moved it down to her abdomen with calculating precision. The stench of human entrails had no effect on him as he splayed open her skin, exposing her intestines.
His face remained cold and passive.
Quinten had often wondered if he was a monster. Surly normal people would have reservations about butchering people the way he did with such a graceful measure. But the beauty of how well a human being was put together let him know there was surly a god. Every piece of fat that glued organs together, every fiber of muscle and well placed protective bone was a wonder to him.
But the wounds to the body were always the undignified blight to the canvas on which he worked. But a necessary part to acquiring the bodies. Bullet holes, ruptured blood vessels from strangulation – they all served to ruin an otherwise perfect form. The body was exposed in a most intimate way; a way nobody had ever seen, except Quinten.
Now the ritual could begin.
Quintin cut pieces of hair from the dead girl’s head. He placed the token in a glass vile and placed it in a pan that lay next to the corpse. Beside the pan was a bag of the dead girl’s clothes, which he had carefully removed, folded and tucked away.
Although his hands were covered with a latex glove, he could feel the coolness of the dead flesh as he worked. He cut away part of the girl’s finger nails, one from each finger; each piece placed into its own separately marked vile. No one could ever accuse of Quinten of not being meticulous.
Quintin removed each organ from the body one by one. Taking little bits of each and giving them new homes of glass. Little pieces that would be forever accessible to Quintin, even after the body was gone. Even after the body had been burned to ash, removing any proof that it had ever been there.
After hours of careful work, the ritual was complete. Quintin removed his latex gloves that were covered in coagulated blood and placed them carefully away for disposal. He removed his protective garments, which were designed to prevent any body fluids from coming into contact with him and placed them aside.
Before he left the scene he glanced out into the dark hallway and quietly walked towards the building’s exit. A young girl sat at the entrance of the building. She was slightly overweight, but always polite. Her police uniform was wrapped tightly around her body.
“Working late again, Dr. Young?” she asked.
“Yes, Patty,” Quintin replied, his voice calm. “Forensic work is done and now it’s time to go home. Can you let the morning staff know that the body is ready to be shipped to the funeral home for cremation tomorrow?”
“Sure thing, Doc,” she said. “It’s just sad though that young girl died so young. Drinking and driving is always a horrible combination.”
“You’re right about that,” said Quintin as he left. “You are right about that, indeed.”
Last edited by mlp; 09-20-2017 at 06:51 AM..