Page 57 of That Time I Accidentally Became A Serial Killer

It only takes me a minute to pull my piece-of-shit car up and open the trunk for my supplies, starting with boot covers and gloves.

My girl turned this place into a blood-soaked cathedral.

And now I get to be the priest who wipes it clean.

First things first: the body.

No sense cleaning the place up when I’m about to make it exponentially worse.

Besides, Gannon’s already leaked all over the concrete like a gut-shot deer.

It’s about to get messier before it gets cleaner.

Knife. Bone saw. Plastic sheeting. Gloves. Labels. Zip ties.

I came prepared.

The body’s too big to move clean. Too awkward, too many limp limbs. So I roll out a tarp and work him onto it.

My playlist kicks in as I work. You’d think the emotional climax would lose its edge by now, but no. It hits every time.

Tortured devotion. Loyalty with a body count. That’s the kind of love that lasts.

Gannon’s arm detaches with a sickening snap. I label it: left forearm.

Bag. Seal. Repeat.

One part at a time. Efficient. Necessary. Cathartic.

It’s not even personal. Not for me.

Poppy already gave him the emotion.

I’m just handling the logistics.

I take a break when my timer pings.

Right on cue, my sunshine pulls up to her home. Still streaked with blood. Still dazed. Still beautiful.

She hurries inside with the walking cotton ball of chaos bouncing in her arms.

I stay until I see the light flicker on upstairs. She made it. Safe. Whole.

“I’ll be there soon, baby,” I whisper, like she can hear my promise. Then I finish bagging the torso.

By the time I’m done, the trunk of my car looks like a glorified trash compactor.

Trash bags. Industrial-grade cleaners. Three-day-old Chinese takeout stacked like camouflage.

The trick is balance. Smell is everything. Wrap a leg in rotting sesame chicken and no one looks twice.

I’ve got several restaurant dumpsters in mind.

They get picked up by different trucks, headed to different landfills, on staggered days.

The odds of all the pieces ending up in the same place? Astronomical.

The odds of them being found at all?

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