God, don’t you just love that first incision you make on somebody when they’re shaking and pleading for help and mercy? It’s very exhilarating. Like I’m in complete control of something in this world. I feel empowered knowing that I am feared and that someone is begging ME for mercy. It is a wonderful feeling that everyone has to feel at least once.

I’ve been cutting up people for years since I work in a morgue but never a live person. Always just cold and stiff bodies. I was always curious as I peeled open their stomachs and took a look at their intestines of how they would look had they been healthy and functioning. Just the thought of the warmness from the blood made my spine tingle in delight. Savory…

One day, my insatiable desire for a warm body to cut open devoured me whole and drove me into the streets, in desperation for a body. I happened to find a homeless man in an alley lying on a flattened box. I was sure that he’d be there tonight also and when I came later that night to the same spot, he indeed was there.

Granted he wasn’t in perfect shape or health, but a body was a body. Looking over my shoulder I pulled out my scalpel and placed it near his neck, nearing to his jugular. Clattering footsteps sounded nearby and I pulled back and held my breathe. Fearing getting caught made my blood pump in an erotic way that I cannot explain. I looked back towards the homeless fellow and he was sound asleep. But what’s the fun in a body that’s dead? Why kill him? I need a live, thriving, fresh body.

Formulating a plan and ditching the poor man, I figured it would seem more casual if I was not in a dark alley covered in blood. I needed someone to take home with me in the privacy of closed doors and walls. Now, this was full proof. All I needed to make it work was someone who would be willing to come to my house without any questions. That might seem a little improbable but in the city, drunk women litter the barstools at almost every corner.

I had to walk into three night clubs to find the one woman that was completely drunk, alone, and vulnerable. It took about two hours to get her to my house after trying to connect with her and insinuate that we’d have sex if she came to stay the night. I had to carry her with an arm so she wouldn’t stumble over until I got to my bed where I let her lay on for some time.

My anticipation was nearly at its limit and I could not stand it any longer. I pulled the scalpel from my pocket and mounted her in a heartbeat. She looked up at me with a blank stare like she had no idea what the fuck was going on. I smiled at her and told her how much fun she was in for, the perfect clique that I’ve always wanted to say. She growled at me like she was a lion and told me that I had no idea how much fun I was going to be having either.

In another heartbeat, my scalpel was taken from me and I was thrown to the floor. I tried to get up on my elbows but I was stabbed in the shoulder and I cried out. She mounted me and grinded her crotch onto mine and let out a long moan while she licked her lips. I looked up at her in disbelief and she grimaced and told me “I hope you like it rough because that’s how it’s going to be from now on.”

I pushed her off and got to my feet. This damn horny woman was insane and before I can try to calm her or stab her she pushed me into my dresser and pulled the scalpel out of my shoulder, holding it to my neck. “Did you really think I was drunk? Was I really that great of an actress? Haha” Her knee pushed up into my groin and I fell to my knees groaning. The cold steel of the scalpel was pressed to my neck and I could hear her talking a little over a whisper, “ Oh God, don’t you just love that first incision you make on somebody when they’re shaking and pleading for help and mercy? It’s very exhilarating. Like I’m in complete control of something in this world. I feel empowered knowing that I am feared and that someone is begging ME for mercy. It is a wonderful feeling that everyone has to feel at least once.”