Page 36 of Hello, Listener
A plastic raincoat is first in my line of items. Next, a clear plastic tarp will help in the disposal of Ashley’s body without leaving too much of a mess. The now tiny, confined, wrapped square will soon be large enough to cover the whole bathtub.
I grab the medium-sized box next. The red box with the black outlined picture of the minisaw stands out under the clear plastic box. The tape on the box’s opening tears off easier than I anticipated. I’m able to remove the saw from its box in one fluid motion. The black cord attached to the battery charger is neatly wrapped with plastic and a zip tie. I set the tool and rechargeable battery aside and examine the long list of directions and warnings. Gently, I set the manual next to the minisaw. I cut the zip tie that binds the plastic-wrapped cords with the kitchen scissors. The long cord quickly falls out of the casing. I plug the rechargeable port into the outlet next to the large mirror in front of the white bathroom counter.That should charge while I continue my preparations for Ashley’s body.
The other bag contains a few normal household items you would use in home repairs.There isn’t anything normal about what I’m about to do. Just a necessity.A package of latex gloves, a roll of duct tape, paper towels, and a bottle of bleach. I’m sure the employees think I was buying what I needed to finish a project I had started at home. They may have been staring at the tarp and minisaw with uncertainty, but said nothing when I paid with cash.
My morning task begins as I walk to my living room and shut my white curtains before turning off the lights in the living room andkitchen.Nothing to see here.I make my way back to the bathroom and focus on the items in front of me on the floor, stepping back from the bathroom counter.Remove my clothes: check.
My gray sweatpants fall to the marble, leaving me in my bright blue boxer briefs. I take off my black T-shirt. It falls on top of the pile.If I get that bitch’s blood all over my clothes, I’ll have to burn them.My arms slip through the clear plastic coat, and I situate it on my sculpted form the best I can.This will have to do.
Next, I unwrap the clear tarp and lay it across the large bathtub, making sure to smooth over any creases or folded-over edges. The tarp covers the bottom and the sides of the tub perfectly.
As I walk into our room, I stare at her body. She is still lying in the same spot with her neck facing upward. Her leggings hang a little looser on her slim hips than I remembered, and the cropped sweatshirt she has on hangs a little lower at the middle of her ribcage.
“Baby, look at the mess you've gotten yourself into,” I say, walking towards her bare feet. My fingers move towards the waistband of her leggings and tuck them underneath. “We both knew this wasn’t going to work. From the time I saw you in high school in that tight little cheerleading uniform. As bad as I wanted to fuck you, I knew you would be just like everyone else.”
“We were supposed to be the picture of perfection.” The black fabric moves slowly down her legs, as I tug it down to her small ankles. “We were the couple everyone thought they wanted to be,” I add as I fold them in a pristine stack and set them on our bed.
My blood begins to boil when I turn to face our wedding picture in a silver frame on her nightstand. “What a waste of money that night was.”
Next, I move up to the waistband of her pale pink thong, carefully grabbing the delicate lace in my fingers. “As much as I loved these, Ashley, I knew they were never really for me.” I fold and place them on top of the leggings.Two pieces down, two more to go.
Her sweatshirt is the most difficult.
“Arms up, baby,” I quietly suggest before I gently fold her toned, tan arms through the sleeves. It’s astonishing how the body bends and folds when it’s no longer in use. Folding her arms through the sleeves is the easy part, but moving her abnormally broken neck through the headspace is like trying to play the game Operation. Instead of a buzzing sound, it would be replaced with dislocation.
Her blonde hair passes through the opening with ease. Another successful removal. All that’s left is her pale pink, lacy bra. The second half of the last matching set that I will ever see her wear.
Unhooking the metal clasps holding her breasts is an easy task. I had undone them several times before. “I guess I’m not the only one who took this off of you, am I, baby?”
I pick up her lifeless body and sit her back up against my chest. Slowly sliding the pink, silk straps down her slender arms, I watch her bra drop to the floor.
“There you go, baby. All ready for our next step.” Sitting her gently back down on the carpet, I add the bra to her stack of clothes.
You never truly know the concept of deadweight until you’re holding your wife’s lifeless body in your arms. Her body falls limp over my shoulder, and I carry her over to our bathroom. I lay her down softly on the clear tarp in our porcelain bathtub, making sure to cradle her upturned head in my arm.
Aside from her contorted neck, she looks peaceful.
My eyes trace over her naked body at the same time I put on a pair of light blue latex gloves, snapping the band along my exposed wrist. It’s almost pathetic how eager I am to use my electric mini saw.
“Oh good, it’s charged.” I grab the appliance and unplug the retractable cord from the white electric outlet. The battery makes a satisfying snapping sound when it slides under the saw’s handle.
With my feet tucked under my thighs, my eyes scan over my masterpiece. It’s a shame it will all be destroyed in a matter of hours.
“Where would you like me to start, Ashley?” I graze her body with the blade, starting at her shaved pussy and moving down to her ankles. “How about we go in order?” I move towards the end of the tarp where her toes barely touch the edge, flipping the power switch forward to the on position. The sound of the mini saw isn’t as loud as I expected it to be. The many years of watching 1980s slasher movies had trained me to believe differently. Of course, those were gas-powered.
The chain moves so fluidly around the blade. I stare with my mouth agape as it slides smoothly into her golden skin. “You know, baby, it’s been too long since we’ve had time to ourselves like this. You know how the saying goes, saving the best for last.”
Pools of blood pour from her left ankle. The red liquid sprays against her adjacent leg and splashes against the white surface of the tub. I push the saw through to her bone, listening as her ankle separates from her calf against the tarp.
“Sorry, I’ll try to be more careful next time.” I move to the other side of her body and line up the blade with the exact stroke of the last cut I made. “It’s the fine details that matter,” I inform thebody lying in front of me, watching closely as more blood pours out from under the other ankle. Ashley’s once tanned skin tone is now that of a sick child. The new hue of her flesh stands out in contrast to the crimson puddles collecting beneath her.
My fingers run up to her thighs. The feeling of skin against latex is not what I’m used to, but it’s what I have to limit myself to tonight. I squeeze her flesh and place the blade of the mini chainsaw in the skin right above her knee. The blade slicing into the flesh is so fascinating, unlike anything I have ever seen before.
When you cut anything, it’s such a simple concept. It’s just as easy to put something between two sharp blades. The smooth slice is so simple and mundane. Cutting through skin, however, is complex. Watching the blade cut through the layers of tissue and muscle is so fascinating to me. The way the different tissues ooze out vastly different colors of reds, the varying yellows among the different layers of her skin. I could examine the precise cuts all night.
Hearing the blade hit the hard bone and listening to it crack sends a whole new sensation throughout my body. It’s like ASMR that I could listen to for hours, lingering on the line of a discovery and release.
After gently setting Ashley’s femur on the hard surface of the bathtub, I lean over to reach the other side of her body. I repeat the process and slide the blade into the velvet texture of her skin, listening closely to the crack of splitting bones. The sound that radiates through the bathroom is a new melody that I cannot get enough of. I watch her blood paint the tarp and the white surface next to me. The sound of her blood splashing against my clear coat echoes in the acoustics of the bathroom, reminiscent of raindrops hitting an umbrella. I watch as the red drops slide down theplastic covering on my chest and my arms. Hitting me in the face and across my lips. The strong smell of copper overpowers the fumes of her expensive perfume. More of my money is going down the drain along with Ashley’s blood.
