Page 87 of The Blue Rose
“Beg all you want.” I turn around, holding up the knife and looking at her reflection in it. “But I’m still cashing in my gift early.” I pin her arm down with one hand so she can’t wiggle while I cut. When they wiggle, my slices aren't as clean as Iwant them to be. “You see-” the blade rests just above her skin, her eyes bugged out as whimpers fill the air. “Every year, on my birthday, I do something a little different with my victims.”
“Victims?” She trembles, sweat starting to trickle down her face, her eyes never leaving the blade resting on her arm.
“Oh, how rude of me. I never introduced myself. You heard my name at Graves, but you don’t know who I am.” I bring the knife up, and I can see a little breath of relief escape her lips. Bringing it to my chest, I take a little bow. “I’m the Morbid Monet. Salem's most notorious serial killer.” The panic in her eyes returns, and she starts sobbing. I pin her arm in place and bring the blade down as I start slicing. Her screams get louder. I groan, thinking of my vixen as I bathe in my victim’s blood.
Music to my ears.
Her skin cuts like butter, hypnotized by how easily her skin opens for me, I trace her blood with my finger, painting a rose, leaving my mark, in a different way. Just for me. I make sure all my knives are sharp as my birthday nears. It’s the only time I carve. I think of it as carving a pumpkin, but instead of seeds falling out, it’s blood and guts.
As I slice and carve through her skin, walking over to the other side to slice more, her screams become louder.I wonder what my vixen is up to.Now she knows who I am, I can’t help but wonder if she is going to accept it, and join me, or try to make me change. I swipe my forehead with the back of my hand, wiping the sweat away and leaving a splatter of blood. Cutting up a living human is strenuous work. You’re hunched over, having to pin them down, enjoying them begging for mercy. It’s hard, but the reward is worth it.
My vixen shares the same darkness as me. She has taken a life as well. She may not know how to cope with her truth, but one way or the other, I’m going to get her to accept who she is. Amonster just like me, darkness consuming us, wrapped up in one another forever.
The screaming starts to die down, and I smell something foul. I stop cutting, looking up to see Sherry passed out, looking down, I see she shit herself.Disgusting.Don’t get me wrong, it has happened before, but not as much as you’d think, and only with my little lambs.
How dare she pass out when I was enjoying myself?I grip the knife, my molars feeling like they could crack, the anger rolling off me in waves. My favorite part is the screams. I grip her leg, leaving bruises behind, and start carving her leg. Still, she doesn’t wake. I throw my knife into the sink, stalking over to pick a new one.Usually, my birthday presents stay awake while I cut.She’s the first to ever faintandshit herself. Grabbing the meat cleaver, I walk back to my ruined gift. Raising the blade above my head, I bring it down.Still asleep. I bring it back up, then down once more, and her leg completely separates, blood squirting out. She jolts awake.Finally,her body trying to come to as she lets out a banshee wail. I smile.That is what I was looking for.
Bringing the cleaver up, I do the same to her arm, watching the lower half of her arm separate. Blood squirts onto my face, and I bask in the feeling of her life force covering me. Her eyelids start to flutter, and before she can pass, I lift the cleaver one more time and bring it down across her stomach. She splits open easily, her organs falling out slowly like hot ramen spilling out of the bowl.
Dead. She is dead. It didn’t last as long as I wanted, but I still enjoyed it. I cut up the rest of her body, her eyes still open and lifeless. I don’t bother closing them, leaving them open makes me feel like she's watching me cut her to pieces. After ruining the night I had planned, she deserves to watch me dismember her from the afterlife.
Once all the pieces are small enough to fit in the incinerator, I take them one by one and throw them in. Shutting the door, I turn it on, singing happy birthday and watch the fire destroy her. My anger from a quick celebration dissipates as the flames lick her skin. Watching the fire burn, her body turning to ash, I feel she is truly gone from this plane, even her spirit. Nothing is left of the pathetic excuse of oxygen.
I have a feeling no one will miss her.
THIRTY
SERENA
After waking up the next morning and seeing what I saw in my dream, I now know what it means. I hugged and kissed my dad and Sharon goodbye, with promises of seeing them soon and got on the road. I threw on a concert hoodie over my pajamas to keep warm. I was heading straight to Aster's house for answers, why did he kill again? Who did he kill, they never have faces, his victims in my dreams, but this time his face is as clear as day.
The sun is just rising; it’s early, but I was so anxious I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to wake Dad up. The only reason I didn’t leave in the middle of the night was because I didn’t need them asking questions I couldn’t give the answer to. They might be cool with me killing people, but I highly doubt they’d welcome my serial killer boyfriend with open arms.
Rolling down the window and turning up the radio, I rub my eyes and let out a big yawn. Although I need answers, and I know Aster is going to want the same, I need coffee. Our heavy conversation can wait untilafterI’m caffeinated.
The sky smells of rainwater since it rained last night. It’s fresh and comforting. When I watched the drops fall from the window last night, I looked at it as if all my sins were washingaway. Every awful thing I did, the lives I stole, gone, but not forgotten this time.I didn’t want to go back to believing the one person who made my life a living hell was the only one I could rely on. It’s much better to know she’s burning there eternally. I smile at that thought, a peaceful calm settling over me.
Honestly, the reason I think I didn't forget is because of Aster. Since meeting him, he has awakened things in me I never want to put to sleep again. I felt a darkness growing inside me since he entered my life, a part of me realizing the dreams I had were memories. The pain he inflicted was pure ecstasy, and now I know everything I’ve been dreaming about is all true.
The truth isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. At first, I was devastated, confused, and angry. For forgetting, mostly, but after I let those emotions process, I felt peace. A sense of serenity washed over me knowing the truth.
Once I get into Salem, I head straight to my favorite coffee shop, Sinister Beans. They are known for their horror themed coffees and milkshakes. They opened their location here a couple years ago and, being a town like Salem, the spooky Halloween place it is known to be, everyone flocked to them. I, too, was a part of the horde of people who waited outside the long line to try their themed drinks. The first, and my favorite, was their Pennywise drink for obvious reasons. It is made with two shots of espresso, white chocolate raspberry, topped with whipped cream, raspberry sauce drizzle, and a red balloon. The cup itself is a thirty two ounce glass, with Pennywise's face on it,andthey spin it in the raspberry sauce at the top so it looks like blood is dripping down the sides. It’s twenty-five dollars a drink, but you get to keep the cup and the balloon. I say that is a great deal, since their opening I have ordered every single theme iced coffee, and the best part is they always come up with more ideas and cup designs. My cupboard at home is full, and I still can’t get enough.
Walking in, I'm hit with the smell of coffee beans and sweetness. I stop in the doorway taking in all the sounds and smells. You can hear the can of whip cream being sprayed, and it is music to my ears. “Zombified” by Falling In Reverse is playing over the speakers, and I can’t help but smile at the irony of this song playing after everything I just found out.
There’s a new sign posted showing they have new drinks and horror characters I can’t wait to try. The line is longer than usual, especially this early. I take out my phone and see they posted on their Instagram about their new drinks.This is why it’s so busy; everyone wants to try it before they’re sold out.While they do sell out, and pretty quickly I might add, they always restock, it just takes longer than one would expect. Everything from the cups to the whip cream, and even the ice cream, are all made in house, which is another reason I love coming here. Can’t beat anything homemade, none of that processed shit.
“Serena! How are you?” Lena, one of the owners' daughters, greets me. I'm a regular here, and I’ve come to know the family pretty well.
“I’m good, Lena! How are you?” I ask, staring at the wall of the new drinks behind her.
She laughs, the crinkle in her brown eyes lighting them up. “I see you’re here for a new drink; what will it be today?”
“Actually, I didn’t even know about the new drinks. I was headed back home from my dad’s.” Her face falls, she knows all about my relationship with my father. While I don’t consider us friends, coming here can be like going to a bar where the baristas become your counselor while you drink if they're not busy. With how often I’ve come here, they got to know my story pretty well, and I theirs. Lena is happily married to her husband, Jessie, for four years, and they have two beautiful boys and one little girl.She runs the coffee shop and is the brains behind the operation, making the designs for the cups.
“Things are better. I went up, and we had a long talk. Everything that happened between us is forgiven, but not forgotten, and I even got closer to his fiancé.” Her face softens, but apprehension is still there. “I promise; I’ll tell you about it another day, but things are better, and I’m happy.”
She grabs my hands. “I believe you, but just be careful. From what you’ve told me, I worry.”
