Page 76 of Blinded By The Sun
Ciro
I walk in the hospital morgue and I go to the mortuary cabinet with the nameNicolai Petrovwritten on it and I pull the cabinet out. Nicolai looks like he’s passed out. I pull him all the way out and place him on the table and pull him back to the middle where all my little trinkets are.
I backhand Nicolai once and then I do it again and he wakes up shocked. He tries to get up, but he can’t because they’ve strapped his body to the table.
“Well, well…” I smile. I grab my smock, covering my clothes. I don’t feel like getting shit dirty today. “Welcome to Michelangelo’s painting,The last judgment.”
Nicolai glares at me. He looks like they’ve broken a few bones. Those dead gray eyes look like they have some emotions in them now. “You’re a coward!” He yells in his thick Russian accent.
“Yeah, eh?” I provoke him. “As cowardly as you were when you shot at my wife and my friend’s wives like they didn’t matter one bit? Or…”
Nicolai tries to get up off the table. “Let me go!” He screams out.
“Hmm… no, I don’t think so. I haven’t even given you the tour of the place. Maybe I’ll give your ghost the tour, I’m not in a pleasant mood.” I turn away from him and reach out for my phone. I press play on the new album that I’ve been listening to while I work out.Pop Smoke’s ‘Meet the Woo.’
I face Nicolai and remove some straps, leaving only his ankles and wrists tied up along with his neck. I put my gloves on. “Have you heard of what Michelangelo thought of the painting? No? Well, let me not just give you a minor renaissance piece of information, but let me also show you all about it.” I pick up one of my flaying knives. I place a mask over my mouth and nose as I get to work.
I flay, or in modern terms, skin Nicolai from the meat near his ankles. Very precise and thin layers. What most don’t know about the skin, is that there are strong layers that protect us. It may not seem like it, but the skin does its job as it should. I concentrate and move my head to the music as I peel back the skin and continue what I’m doing. Nicolai’s screams oddly go with the music. It’s like the perfect masterpiece. I can see myself writing a symphony to this. My mind conjures about the notes as I continue on skinning the rest of his leg. I am not called a butcher because that’s not my talent, that will never be my motivation, but I give it up to those who are.
“So,” I start as I get back up, leaving the perfect layer of skin to collect all the dust and everything else that could make him cry some more. I get closer to his ear as I begin on his fingers. “When Michelangelo painted that specific painting; it was basically interpreted as St. Bartholomew holding the knife of his martyrdom and his flayed skin; It is said that Michelangelo put a self-portrait showing himself as St Bartholomew flayed alive in the piece. What do you think it means? For me, I feel like…” I pause because Nicolai is crying at this point. The fuck, I just started. “I’ll be back. I’ll give you some pain reliever for all this. Okay? You were once my father-in-law.”
I stand, dropping the knife in a sanitizer. I grab the rubbing alcohol and remove the cap. I move over to his pulled back skin and I pour it on him. Nicolai screams and I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out. I shrug and turn away, grabbing my needle and thread. I sit on a rolling stool and pull myself closer. I place his pulled back skin down perfectly, making it fit like a puzzle. I stitch it all back together, slowly and efficiently. These kinds of things take time and precision.
I don’t know how long I take because I have time for this today and therefore my entire schedule is open plus, King is at an all-day spa with the girls. I crack my neck and stand up, moving to the other side where I remove my gloves and replace them. I’m a sucker for proper PPE, sue me. I flay his skin back from the next leg and then move over to remove the skin from his fingers too. This time on that side, I skip the wrist and pull back the skin on his arm all the way to his shoulder. Nicolai has passed out. I grab the next bottle of rubbing alcohol and pour it all on him. He screams, waking up, and then passes out again. I place my hands on my hips. “Hmm…”
I look around to see if Alex really gave me all that I needed, and I spot my baby in the corner. I smile as I move towards my blow torch. I bring it back and go to the flayed arm skin. “Ever wonder what a roasted pig smells like?” I taunt even though he can’t hear me.
I put it against the tip of his skin, and this shocks him awake to where he pees in the only clothing he has on, his tighty-whiteys. A grown ass man can’t even take a little torched skin. I roll my eyes, turning it off. I grab my needle and thread and stitch over the torched skin which I’m sure Nicolai wanted to shit himself but I gave him a little something to cause him not to have bowel movements. I’m not really in the mood to smell shit right now.
“Heard you had a kidney problem too?” I ask him as he blinks, trying to will himself to speak. I wink at him as I stitch the rest of his body together.
He must think the torture is over. I go back to the first leg that I stitched together, and I take out the sanitized knife that I used for that specific leg and I don’t dry it. Instead, I begin again, skinning him as it should be done. This is art and how it should always be. I don’t stitch the skin this time; I move to the toes and grab a set of sharp pliers. I know they’re sharp because Boston sharpened them. I smirk even though he can’t see it. I go to stand where I know he can look me in the eye even from across from him. I grab his big toenail with the pliers and tug hard. Nicolai finds his voice and screams. I don’t wait as I place the pliers around his toe and I clip it right off. He screams again and now I’m fucking irritated because I’ve missed the entire album. I place the pliers in another set of sanitizer. There is a way I like my setup with little tables around that I can drop all my little trinkets in. I walk over to him, picking up the sharpest hunting knife I have. I punch Nicolai in the face once but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough and I do it again until I hear his jaw crack. I open his mouth and grab his tongue. He bites down on my fingers hard and I plunge the knife in his gut, a spot where I know didn’t hit a vital organ. I grit my teeth as he screams and lets go of my fingers. I snatch the same knife out of his body and I swipe his tongue off.
If I don’t lift him up, he’ll choke on his own blood. I roll my eyes as I grab the suction and empty the blood. I grab a medical stapler and I staple his tongue. Now, back to what I was doing.
I lose myself in my work and when I’m done tugging toenails and then clipping off the toes, I can go back to the kidney surgery I need to perform. I cut him open and remove a kidney like I promised I would. By now, Nicolai is on his ultimate death moment. The final crescendo is what I like to call it. I smile as I do what I know I’ve had practice with all these years. I grab the same kidney from the mini cooler, and I give him what others would call a kidney transplant, except this belongs to him. After I’m done with the surgery, I suction out the blood. I stitch him back together. I stitch the toes back together. By the time I’m done, Nicolai is dead, but I don’t stop what I’m doing. I stitch all his skin back on… I move to his dead gray eyes. I shake my head at the irony. I stitch his eyelids, his mouth and nose shut.
Boston turns the music off, prompting me out of whatever dreary place I was in. “You done… you sick fuck?”
I look up at Boston, and I blink for a moment. I need to get out of there. He’s dead. I shake my head once and then do it again. When I feel like I’m finally myself, I speak. “Yeah, you like my stuffedcochon?” I chuckle.
Boston smirks and shakes his head. “You need to go under, don’t you?” I can tell he’s worried by the crease in his forehead.
I nod. “Yeah. Tell Alex. 48 hours minimum. I need to find my center again.”
“Fuck.
