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Leslie Clandien
A bitch’s name for the king bitch himself.
Finding no cash inside, I deposit his things away and close up the box, spinning the lock. A soft groan behind me draws my attention. I turn around and see Leslie blinking, cringing from the sting of dried blood flaking into his eyes.
“Hello Leslie.” He cringes again and glares in my direction but doesn’t say anything. “What, cat got your tongue? Usually people’s reaction to waking up in my playroom,” I gesture around the space. “Is always so predictable. ‘Where am I?’ ‘Who are you?’ ‘What’s happening?’” I mime out with fake horror and a bat of my eyelashes, chuckling at the look of disgust on his face. “Oh come now, you didn’t think you were my first, did you?” I wait for a response and grow irritated when he still just stares at me.
Stomping my way over, I jerk back Adam’s head, exposing his throat, and watch Leslie’s disgusted face morph to horror. I tsk and drop Adam’s head before turning and heading to my table in the corner and hum as I look over the options lined out, picking up items to inspect before placing them back down. I had a long time to think on the drive over and already know what I’m going to do, but I also enjoy the added fear when my victims aren’t sure what to expect.
Growing a little tired of the game, I reach over and snatch up a hammer and screws, pocketing a few bolt ends as well, and turn back around. Seeing Adam is still passed out, I pick up the smelling salts before sauntering back to him. I shoot a wink in Leslie's direction as I swipe the smelling salts under Adam’s nose. His head jerks up and he flinches back against the binds. “What the fuck? Where am I?” His voice grows louder with each question. Looking at me, recognition flares in his eyes. “What’s going on?” He demands.
I laugh and call out to his friend, “See! Nowthatis the reaction I was looking for.” I give Adam an approving nod as I set down the salts and pick up the hammer and screws. “Welcome back to the living Adam boy. Although, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, you won’t be joining us for long.” Adam starts to curse at me, pulling harder against the restraints. “Now now, that’s no way to act. I suppose I’m going to have toput you in your place.” His eyes widen as my tone fills with venom on the reminder of his words.
He starts to plead with me as I rest a screw against the back of his hand and raise the hammer. “Please man, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.” His pleading is silenced as a scream is ripped from his chest. I hammer in the screw forcefully until the end sticks out through the hole I have drilled into the arm of the chair.
This was an addition I was quite proud of when I came up with the idea. Once the screw has been pushed through the body and is on the other side of the hole, I attach one of the bolt heads to the end and it renders the person completely immobile while providing an extra level of agony with each movement. It’s quite brilliant if I do say so myself.
I methodically work my way up both Adam’s arms and legs until there are five screws lodged into each limb. Clapping my hands, I stand and return my now bloodied hammer to the table and grab the meat cleaver next. I’m not planning on prolonging Adam’s torture past my sweet poetic display. I do, however, want to inflict more pain to Leslie via his friend’s. Working my way back over to Adam, I tip his head back and force his face toward the man dangling from the ceiling. “Any last words to your friend? Final parting thoughts? I advise you make it good, as you won’t be getting a second chance.”
Leslie blinks slowly and whispers, “I’m so sorry Adam. I’m so fucking sorry.”
As the last word leaves his lips, I swing down the cleaver into Adam’s right wrist and sever his hand. His wail turns to gags as he looks down at his detached hand, still fastened to the chair, blood pouring from both sides of the separated wrist. I swiftly repeat the motion on his other side, slicing through his left wrist in another quick movement. The smell of piss and vomit fill the air and I look up in disgust.
I hate it when they can’t control their bodily fluids.
I briefly debate whether I want to just end his life to avoid further unpleasant messes but the sounds of gagging behind me and choked sobs remind me of my audience.
Purpose bolstered again, I work over Adam’s body. Chopping apart, piece by piece, between each screw until only his knees and elbows up are still attached to his body. Adam passes out somewhere between the fifth and sixth cut and I’d put good money on him not waking up again. Satisfied with my masterpiece, I face Leslie and take in his tear streaked face. He’s as pale as a sheet and his eyes show he knows he’s next and there’s nothing he can do to get out of this. Swallowing, he blinks before whispering, “I didn’t know. How-how could I have known?”
Soothingly, I shush him. “I know you aren’t entirely to blame Leslie. I will deal with Paige as well.” His eyes widen in horror. I shake my head, laughing softly. “Don’t be silly, her punishment will be much more enjoyable. For both of us.” I discard the cleaver and snatch up an old steel potato peeler. “You know, it’s been years since I’ve peeled off someone’s fingerprints.” I reminisce, fiddling with the peeler as I walk toward him. “I’ve gotten quite lazy in just burning them off in recent years. I’m looking forward to returning to my roots.”
Once in front of him, I reach up and grasp his wrist, surprised to find no resistance. I cock an eyebrow at him and he grits his teeth, looking away. Having none of that, I grasp his jaw and force his gaze back on me before releasing his face and lining up the peeler with his pointer finger. I slide the blade along his skin and watch the thin layers fall away with each swipe. The deeper I go, the more blood pools, causing some of the removed skin to stick in the wound. Leslie’s cries of pain are a beautiful soundtrack to my artwork as I peel off each of his finger pads, stepping back once complete and watching the blood drip onto the floor. His head falls forward as he whimpers.
“That was for touching what’s not yours.” His only response is another pained whimper. “Next, I am going to cut out your tongue for flirting with my girl.” He opens his mouth to beg, pleas falling on deaf ears. I grab a small serrated pocket knife and force his jaw apart. “I’m only going to warn you once, if you try to bite me, I will make this worse. Trust me when I tell you, you do not want that.” I wait until he gives a slight nod before reaching in and roughly pulling out his tongue. Holding it firmly in one hand, I saw through the muscle until the last bit detaches. I toss the severed tongue onto the floor and softly pat his cheek. “Good boy.”
He stares at me through tears and blood. It’s such a beautiful sight. “Because you listened so well and I’m feeling in a better mood after Adam over there.” I shrug toward the dismembered corpse beside us. “I’m going to remove your eyes for looking at her. But then I will end your life quickly. It’s a mercy and a reward.” I smile at him and spin on my heels, snatching up a metal serving spoon and my favorite blade. Shoving the spoon into his left eye, I exert enough pressure to pop it out without rupturing the thin membrane. I gently tug on it until I can see the connective tissue and sever the ball from his face, tossing it down next to his tongue. I repeat the process with his right eye then step back and admire my work.
Walking back up, I reach around and grab hold of his hair, pulling his head back to expose his throat. Softly, I say, “Goodbye Leslie.” And slice my blade across his throat.
It’s well after dark by the time I make it back to Paige’s work. Normally clean up wouldn’t take as long but I needed to take extra precautions because of the impulsivity of the murders. Each body had to have all identifying markers removed, be chopped into small pieces, and deposited in the few barrels of lye I have stored away. That shit is expensive and hard to come across discreetly so I use it as a last resort only. It was a long, arduous, and messy process which required a brief stop at home to shower and change.
Under the cover of night, I pull up to the shop and watch through the windows. Feeling another pang of jealousy and fury, I grip the wheel tightly. Paige is standing with her attention on the cell phone in her hand, worry lining her face. At one point she smirks and some of the concern eases from her features.
She really is such a gorgeous thing. A goddess tucked inside a mortal's flesh.
After a few minutes, she slips her phone away and begins working her way throughout the small building, gathering up trash bags. Another wave of anger flows through me as I realize she is, yet again, alone in the shop and will be venturing into the dark alley by herself. I hop out of my vehicle and shut the door more forcefully than I mean to. Stomping toward the entrance I stumble into a patio table, leaping back as it crashes to the ground with a loud bang. I curse as I attempt to quickly right the table. The sound of the door opening causes me to rush back into the shadows and run into another piece of metal furniture.
Fucking hell, where did all these things come from?
Cursing quietly again, I look up and watch in horror as I see Paige lose her balance and begin to fall backward. I reach out uselessly to catch her but I’m still several feet away and won’t make it in time even if I run. Helplessly, I’m forced to witness her slice open the palm of her hand before landing with a hard thud on her plump ass. Her eyes dart around with a look of embarrassment as she rushes back to her feet before flying inside and locking the door.
I wait a few heartbeats before sneaking over to the accident scene, looking around for the cause of her pain. I notice a small piece of metal sticking out from the bottom of the window with a few dots of blood. I kick the piece with all the pent up fury pulsing inside me and smugly watch it clatter off in the distance.
Nothing hurts my woman without answering to me, not even a building.
I peek through the window and don’t see Paige anywhere. Darting my eyes around the space, I notice the alley door propped open and curse again before making my way around the building. As I round the corner, I’m greeted with the sight of her stiffly walking toward the large garbage bins, clutching the bags in her hands like a smelly shield. I intend to keep my distance but then notice the bandage wrap around her left hand and find my feet moving forward without my permission.
She freezes.
