Dragging Steven's lifeless corpse toward my car and opening the boot, I was being constantly put-on edge by even the slightest whisper irradiating from the wind. Hopefully, the blood would be washed away by the torrential downpour of rain that I was experiencing.
Hedging my bets, I know, but in times of such drastic design there is much else left to be done.
The clashing of the boot seemingly gave me a boost of adrenaline, and soon after the nerves settled.
It was now a dash to the finish line. Sooner rather than later id be back in the arms of my beloved and this could all be over.
A distant memory that only I would have the burden to bear. If I had done this, at least I could find some solace in the fact I had done this all for her, even if I cannot remember doing it at all. It was now left up to me to ensure I brought no un-needed attention upon myself.
To keep the car driving at a steady pace. I have seen cop shows and therefore know that the way people are caught is through the sheer stupidity of their own actions, rather than the crime itself.
As long as I kept myself average, inconspicuous, and most importantly unnerving then this would be over.
Driving for what effortlessly seemed like an eternity, appeared to be slowed down to an even lengthier perpetuity, this in itself was a life-long sentence that was utterly unneeded, and may I add unwarranted.
As we approached my garage, I formulated my plan of disposing the now rolled around, crushed up human that lay tumbling in the boot of my car.
Opening the boot, it became apparent to why people use rugs when resolving an incident much like the one I found myself deep within.
Blood now battled up the fabric that encompassed the boot, staining it. His body now twisted and contorted, in what I could only analogise as a pretzel devouring another.
His legs bent out of shape, curling in on themselves, to the similarity of the Ouroboros. Arms bruised and battered from being launched from one side to the adjacent.
His jaw now almost fully disconnected, still endlessly swaying from side to side despite the stopping of the car.
Picking up, this now ever more so distorted figurine, and placing him upon my shoulder, I made strides to enter the garage swiftly and as inaudibly as was perceivable.
I was now left with many options laying before me of how to get rid of this huge anchor, wrapped and coiled around my ankle.
The most foul but safest option (that would leave as little evidence possible) that I had available, would be to cut him into bits, remove his teeth and fingers; burn the rest.
So, I begun the work. I unfolded him from the perch of my shoulder to which he sat; and dropped his weighted corpse firmly onto the cold steel table that lay to the corner of my garage.
Usually, people would care about the cold steel touching the warm, full of life flesh, but in all honesty, I doubt Steven really cared all that much.
Frozen to the touch, his skin glued to the just as ice cold bench. Moving him would have surely resulted in the ripping apart of his skin, to which I definitely did not want. The less DNA evidence left behind the better.
Grasping the hacksaw, my trembling nerves vibrated through the handle of the blade, violently shaking it within the palm of my hand.
My sweat a lubricant substitute for the hacksaw. Wrapping my left hand around the ankle of the man, I was left stranded within my own thoughts, contemplating on how tonight's events could have even ensued.
Nevertheless, this was no time to become sentimental, if I ever wanted a true future with Sarah, I needed to bottle up all emotions and get to the ridding of this man.
The points of the blade broke his skin, as I readied myself for what I had to now do. I violently ripped my arm back and forth, with every movement, carving his flesh ever deeper until the inevitable grinding of metal and bone screamed through the locked garage.
Dark cardinal, chestnut blood sprayed from the wound, drenching myself and the surrounding area, marking us with its territorial scent and elixir.
After the first leg was successfully removed, I proceeded to bag it and move toward the next limb. Taking hours to get through the four limbs alone was tough, but the next step as even more challenging.
Holding Steven's grotesque hanging jaw sturdy, I clamped plyers onto his furthest left molar and hauled heavily backwards. The tooth was followed with a stream of blood and two thick strings that had originally held the tooth rigid in his mouth.
Removing all the teeth became a tedious and seemingly never-ending task, mercifully it ended, nevertheless.
Now with Steven's teeth jingling within a plastic bag; his four limbs, torso and ill-shapen skull held together in a garbage-sack sized goodie bag, it was ultimately time to burn the remains.
I found the perfect spot too, nice plus secluded only surrounded by the witnesses of trees and woodland-life.
The drenching of his body parts in gasoline, left a very distinctive aroma that very quickly crawled up my nostril's passageway and refused to leave, at least that was until the even more revolting stench of burning corpse replaced it.
His skin morphed from a pale bloodless white, to a blackened burnt crisp within seconds. His hair singed and receded to the scalp as the corneas of his eyes shrivelled. The clothing he was wearing melting into the now blackened skin, the two things becoming one. Blackened dirty grey smog threw itself from his corpse, propelling 10-20 feet above the body.
After the burial of the ashy remains, far away from where the incident took place, I circled back home to the comforting, loving arms of Sarah. I needed more than ever for her sweet embrace to allow me to forget everything from the past 4-6 hours.
The car was now cleaned, and any trace of Steven had vanished along with him. Pulling into the driveway I soon found myself falling back into her arms, tired and confused over everything that had taken place.
As we spoke for a little, she soon seemed to change. Her passionate caring voice changed pitch and tempo, to a more aggressive pacey tone.
"David, I needed to tell you something earlier, but you rushed away before I could get the chance."
Well, whatever it was she needed to tell me; it could not contend with the horrendous deeds I had to part-take in this evening.
"Yeah Hun, sure. What's up?" I said sounding pretty calm and collected.
"The bruises. The marks around my face and neck. They were from-."
"It's okay Hun. I know Steven had hurt you but trust me, I spoke to him and asked him to move away. You have nothing to worry about anymore. Trust me." I interrupted her saying.
"No. No David. It wasn't Steven. Can you honestly not remember?" she exclaimed clearly surprised and confused.
"What?! What do you mean it wasn't Steven?" as aggression and confusion built within me, I began to feel overwhelmingly sick.
"David. You did this to me. How can you not remember beating me?"
I sat there stunned. Complexed. Pure rage. Pure, untampered rage. The only way I could possibly convey how I was feeling.
Not toward anyone but myself, for no other reason than allowing myself to become this twisted mess of the person I once was.
Where my morals had become so shaded and my mental state so unstable; no decision was my own. I could now begin to feel the two occupants taking refuge within my head, me, and this other entity: the darker self.
Instantly I could feel the battle for control taking place. The once palace of my mind now contaminated with the stench of conflict and turmoil.
Two sides of the same coin in a constant flip; each side winning over a blissful moment of control. Losing control would be insufferable to say the least, not knowing what the other would do whilst in control.
Or is that exactly what happened with Steven? Did this other me take over?
Not knowing had become the most agonising part.
So, was he in control when I had hurt Sarah, or was that all me?
Was I than one that beat her and marked her?
I killed an innocent man for the abuse of my love. It was not Steven at all. It was my murderous hands that beat her.
The lines blurring, as I could feel us merging into one. One complete monster without morals or regret.
Grabbing the closest bottle of alcohol, I brushed passed Sarah, leaving her clueless and speechless – stranded in the sitting room – alone. I raced to the, newly cleaned of evidence, car and pushed myself into the driver's seat. Turning on the ignition, the sudden burst of vibrations and power unsettled me even more so.
However, the alcohol soon set in, and completed its task of calming my nerves and blocking out all of the noise that emptied itself into my head.