Tim The Killer

Red, sticky blood ran down my hands as I stared at my landlady, Beth, sprawled on my kitchen floor. She was dead. I killed her.

“Shit. Only two weeks and I already broke my promise.” Sighing, I grabbed the butcher knife from my knife rack and began to chop away at Beth’s body. I started with her feet – I always chop from the bottom up, a personal preference I suppose. 

Feeling the bones crack beneath the blade made me want to grind my teeth. I hated the sound of bones breaking. My thing was blood. That’s why I killed. To watch the blood ooze out of wounds. To feel the warm liquid on my hands, my arms, my face... My biggest fantasy was to bathe in a tub full of human blood. But I wasn’t supposed to have those fantasies anymore. I made a promise to someone very dear to me. I promised I wouldn’t kill anymore. I thought if I made it into a New Year’s resolution it would help me keep that promise. Obviously I was wrong.

It took me an hour to chop Beth up into pieces. After that I grabbed two large garbage bags and threw the pieces in. I saved her head for last.

“Well Beth, I guess this is goodbye. You used to be a decent landlady when I first moved in, but over the years, you just got older and crankier and honestly, I just lost my patience. On the bright side, you can stop dating all those old geezers.” I tossed Beth’s head in with the rest of her body and knotted the bag close, then put that bag inside the second bag and knotted that one as well. Setting the bag aside, I went to fetch my mop and bucket. This was too messy for my Swiffer. 

As I returned to the bloody floor I found myself mesmerized by the dark color contrasting my shiny white tiles. I couldn’t help myself; I crawled to the floor, and when I could feel Beth’s blood in between my fingers once more, I plopped down onto the bloody tiles. 

I laid there in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the smell and feel of blood until I could not be still any longer. Writhing on the floor, my entire body was covered in dark red liquid within minutes. 

This was heaven, this was the pleasure that I sought after my entire life. This moment, this feeling of euphoria. How could I think that I could give this up? This is what I live for.

Screw the promise.

(Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don’t kill anyone. Write this scene. 500 words or less.)