Page 2 of Tainted Reasoning

“Never!” Nicholas chuckles and goes over to a table in the corner of the room. “Get him out of the chair and lay him down.”

I look up at my brother and swipe my head, tap my foot, and bang my fingers.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve got no interest in what happens to this man. You can cut him up into little pieces if you want. Examine his heart, lungs, and whatever else you want to look at. He can be turned into dog food for all I care. Edgar’s in hell, now, and I’m not returning him to his family to bury. He doesn’t deserve our respect.” He hands me the knife. “You want to do it, or shall I?”

I look at the knife handle and then at the body. My stomach lurches a little before settling as my excitement builds at the thought of what goodies lie under the covering of skin and muscle.

“You can do it. I’ll put some gloves on and help lay out the intestines. Do we have anything to measure them with?”

“Over in that drawer, there’s a tape measure.” He nods his head toward a modern IKEA unit. It looks out of place in comparison with the abundance of antique furniture we have all over our house, but I guess it was specially purchased for this purpose and can be easily disposed of. Not worth risking a thirty-thousand-pound sideboard when you can use one costing less than twenty pounds. I pull the drawer open and rummage through the contents until I find what I’m looking for. When I turn back, Nicholas is already pulling the intestines out through the massive hole he’s cut into Edgar’s abdomen. I breathe deeply, my body fizzing with excitement. I’m sure I should be worried about the perverse pleasure I’m getting from seeing a man cut open with his guts spilling out, but I need to see it. I’ve been told I’ve been wrong all my life, so why should I try to act any differently now. I’ve been presented with this opportunity, and I’m not going to waste it.

Nicholas finishes pulling the intestines out and cuts them off. The human waste from the body spills out on to the floor, and he curses when it splatters on his shoes.

“Fuck.” He grabs a cloth and wipes the mess off before throwing the towel into a nearby sink. This basement is specifically designed for the work we’re undertaking, but it wasn’t Nicholas who set it up. It’s a remnant from my father’s time.

“Sorry,” I tell him.

“Not a problem, really. I’ll disinfect them later. Now, how do you want me to do this?”

“I think we need to lay it out flat around the floor.” I take hold of the end that’s attached to the small intestine. This is the large intestine or colon to give its proper title.” I tell Nicholas.

“Paradoxically that’s the shorter one, right?” He places some medical gloves on his hands and takes the other end, leading to the anus, and helps to stretch it out.

“Yes. It should only be around five feet.”

We place it down, and I get the tape measure, which confirms it is about the correct length. I put my fingers around the organ and squeeze. It feels squidgy to the touch.

“This has never been my favorite choice of meat.” Nicholas screws his nose up. “You remember when Nurse made us eat tripe because it would be good for us.”

“I remember you trying not to gag and throwing it out of the window at every available opportunity.”

We pick up the small intestine and start the more substantial task of laying that out.

“I don’t think even the dogs or foxes would’ve wanted it.” He laughs, and I join him. We finish laying out the small intestine, and I measure it.

“It’s twenty-five foot long. That’s about average. They can get up to thirty-four feet. I check the width of it and notice it’s bigger than the standard of an inch. “It’s dilated.”

“What?” Nicholas is at the sink, washing his hands.

“The intestine. Its width is greater than it should be.”

“You are going to have to speak in dumb people terms, little brother.” Nicholas dries his hands and picking up his phone, he quickly types out a message. I know it’s to call in the cleanup crew.

“When the small intestine is like this, it’s a sign something is wrong. I think he might have been sick, even dying. It’s not good like this. He would have been in pain.”

“Damn,” Nicholas exclaims. “I should have left him in pain. Mind you, I think we made sure he suffered enough. Amelia will be proud.”

“She will.” I smile as I think of the terrified girl I’d met. “It will give her peace.”

“It will.” Nicholas’ face falls. I know the guilt of his part in Amelia’s death weighs heavily on him. He suffers for it every day, and it’s the reason he’s trying to get rid of all the others who caused her torment.

“Come on,” I say to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders. “Let’s go shower and see that pretty wife of yours.”

“A perfect plan.”

As we leave the room, I turn back one final time and look at the intestines laid out neatly in a row, together. This is not normal. I know it. I can’t help worrying about the effects of being confined away for so many years and what damage it may have inflicted on my soul.

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