Page 62 of Savage Keepsakes

“Yes?” I ask, tilting my head and holding the blade in place.

“If I tell you, will you quit hurting her?”

I glance up at Samantha’s eyes and nod.

“Her father’s name is Todd. They live at 55 Howard Court.”

I pull the knife away from Samantha’s torso. The skin flops forward but doesn’t slip off her body.

“Do you have information for me?” I ask Samantha, running the scalpel over Amber’s stomach.

“No,” she bites out.

With a smirk, I slide the knife across the obliques, carving flesh off her like a ham. When I place it in the bin, their voices escalate into a heated argument.

“The fuck is wrong with you? Give him the information so he can stop flaying me like a fish,” Amberchokes out.

“No, he’s gonna kill us, anyway. I’m protecting you, unlike what you did. My father is going to be devastated.” The tone in her voice has dropped.

Slipping back into the stall, I spin Amber in a circle. Blood flies off her body and splatters her friend.

When she stops spinning, I glance over at Samantha, who isn’t looking this way.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m sorry you have such a shitty friend, but know that you have glorious skin.”

“SAMMY!” she shouts.

With each incision, the metallic scent of blood fills the air, mixing with the sound of my knife slicing through the flesh.

The ambiance is thick with silence, broken only by her piercing screams. I place everything in the bin, and when I turn back, blood drips steadily from both.

Glancing at my watch, I realize a couple of hours have passed since I last checked. I start the blowtorch, its intense heat searing the open wounds, a sharp sizzle echoing through the room.

Amber passes out from pain or shock. I slice off additional sections of skin from her body. Samantha doesn’t give me the screams I’m looking for as she bites her lip so hard blood drips down what’s left of the front of her.

“Smells like barbeque in here. Good thing I don’t eat meat.”

“You’re such a sick fuck. We’ve been warned about you. They’re onto you. It won’t last forever and then you’ll rot in prison.” A smug smile crosses her face, crimson fluid coating her chin.

I make a swift, piercing motion towards Amber, cutting through the delicate flesh on her thighs and draping it over my arm. The splat of blood dripping on the floor fills the air as I use the spoon to remove every trace of leftover fat.

“That noise is fucking gross. Why’re you collecting it?” It’s odd how quickly Samantha has accepted her fate.

The bucket is filled to the brim, ready to make a batch of soap. I walk away to put Amber’s skin on the salt, the sight of the remaining bodies for the experiment lingering in my mind.

I can’t escape Samantha’s relentless barrage of questions, her voice piercing through the air. Despite her missing flesh and the burns that mark her body, she remains resilient and seems to have dissociated from the current slaughter.

“I’ll never rot in prison. They won’t find me, so I’m not worried. Most times they need a witness or evidence, and since I have neither, I’d say I’m doing alright.”

I pick up the scraps of her skin and toss them in the wheelbarrow with her friend.

I glance at her as I burn Amber’s wounds closed. Her breathing is much shallower than anyone I’veever killed. Turning back to Samantha, I carve more skin away from her body, burning as I go.

So far, I’ll be able to tell Lucy that skinning will work for some people, but not for others. At least it’s plausible.

“Fuck. Why do you take fat?”

I scoop the rest from the body before igniting everything that’s oozing blood. With each passing moment, her sentences grow fainter, her voice morphing into a strained whisper. Death is coming.

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