Page 11 of Savage Keepsakes

“Making art.” I chuckle as I continue peeling the skin from the muscles. Her piercing screams only worsen my headache, but I love the sound.

Pieces of flesh tear under my fingers as she jerks on the table. I move to the metal workbench and place what I’ve collected so far on top.

My fingertips dig through the fat until I reach the coarse texture of the muscle. Exploring someone who is alive brings the light into my mind.

Her screams blend with the music from the CD, creating a one-of-a-kind new track. It’s like a massage for my soul, the feel-good craving I’ve been missing.

As the blood drips over my fingers, a tinny scent fills the air. Humans give off a certain sweetness that animals can’t, and I’ve missed it.

I guide her onto her stomach, blood still splattering on the table—I’ll have to clean it later.

Sylvia's screams start to lose their musical charm and I hit her in the back of the head with my fist. She twitches, but doesn’t make another sound. I make cuts from the nape to the bottom of her spine. Deepwithin me, there’s a burning desire to explore her organs, but I restrain myself for now.

The incessant flopping like a fish out of water has stopped, and checking her pulse, I find that she’s gone. Her blood cascades off the edge of the table, running down its legs and seeping through the drains.

I wipe my hands off on her remaining skin, leaving streaks of red, before placing what I’ve harvested into the salt. Once that’s taken care of, I head to the storage closet.

Despite the many ways to dispose of bones, I can’t risk alerting the fire department and losing everything over a violation of a fire ban.

I pull out bottles of hydrochloric acid. I’ve used it before for the animals, but it’s not my preference.

Opening the door, I’m greeted by the cool touch of the spring night air on my skin.

Grabbing my bone cutter, I turn back to where I left off. I cut her upper body into the right size pieces to fit in the tub. It was sloppy work—I wasted a lot of skin with my negligence—but there will be enough for some great leather-bound journals.

I pull on long gloves and pour the acid into the tub and add the chopped-up pieces of Sylvia into it. It starts to burn right away, bubbling and hissing.

I slip out of the way and inhale a deep breath of the fresh air from the door. The acid always makes my nostrils burn.

While I wait for her to break down, I turn back to the table and start cleaning it. Pouring bleach and water, I squeegee the mixture to the drains and work on the corners of the metal.

Once she’s mostly dissolved, I add whatever is left to go, including her clothes. After several buckets of water and bleach, the workstation is clean. I flick off the lights and lock the door.

Heading upstairs, I run water for a shower. My clothes are a wreck, and as I undress, I put them with my other work clothes.

As the water washes away all the blood from my skin. The black sludge that slips through my mind curls back into its crevices. Breathing is easier, and I’m happy again for now.

After stepping out of the shower and getting dressed, I grab a cold bean burger from the fridge. Heating it up, I place it in a bun with lettuce and mayo.

The springs of the couch groan as I plop down and kick my feet up onto the coffee table. I load the camera feeds up on my phone. Taking a bite of my dinner, I scroll through the footage. Miles isn’t around, and the house seems quiet.

When I move on to the next camera, I want to throw my burger across the room. She’s asleep on the floor again. It fucking breaks my heart, because she deserves all the good things in life and not theshit she’s been dealt.

Knowing Lucy is resting, I switch the video feed to my workshop and watch the acid as it works away.

Finishing the burger, I carry my phone to the bedroom and lay down. Once comfortable, I bring up the security feed of Lou’s room, of the woman who sings to my soul.

Lucy is a symbol of all that is perfect in the world. She warms my heart and makes me think I could be valuable. The beautiful soul wrapped in trauma is the woman I want to stand beside me. She’s burrowed into my mind.

I’ll do whatever I can to soothe her scars and show her what happiness is.

Four

Lucy

Three long weeks have passed. No matter how I approach the subject of Miles leaving, he always ends up yelling and arguing with me.

He has no reason to stay here. He doesn’t help, and he’s starting to frighten me.

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