Deadly Secrets. Part 41

Part 1, Part 40

The blood was warm, but it was rapidly cooling, there was much more of it than expected. The pool around the pair of them had seemed to stop growing, the suddenly cool blood began to congeal around the edges. There wouldn’t be much time. People would be coming soon, any second someone could turn the corner and see them. It might only look a little odd at first, then they’d see the blood. The body was heavy and after a brief heave, it fell on its side with a slight thud, the skull cracking against the ground. He stood up, shaking slightly. Her blood was all over his hands, his clothes. The car was close by, he’d have to get her there. He grabbed her under her arms and began to drag her to the car as fast as possible. There wasn’t enough time, there was a trail of blood leading towards the car, he opened the back door and unceremoniously shoved her onto the back seat. He ran to the trunk and opened it, there. It wouldn’t be much but hopefully it’d be enough. He took out one of the bottles of water and started to pour it onto the blood pool. Once the bottle was emptied, it hadn’t made much of a difference, the blood began to move towards the gutter, he reached back and grabbed two more bottles. When he was done, it wasn’t perfect but it would do. There was still traces of blood but in the growing dark it would be hard to see properly, it was fainter now than before and perhaps, if it didn’t rain during the night, people might just think it was some kind of paint stain or something. His clothes were wet and cold from her blood, he didn’t have a spare pair with him. He’d need to dump the body somewhere, he couldn’t bring it back to the apartment, not while he was covered in blood. The back seat would be stained, he’d have to be extremely careful about where he left the car until it could be cleaned. Where could he take the body? Where could he get rid of it?

He drove aimlessly at first, spiralling outwards, trying to figure out what to do, he didn’t have the luxury of time, time to think or figure out a plan. How could he have been so stupid, so monumentally blind? He shouldn’t have let his guard down, he shouldn’t have begun to trust her. It was his fault. If he had of waited a little longer, he could see her changing, he knew it, but he had been too eager, he should have waited. He shouldn’t have pushed her so much. She must have seen how eager he was, used it against him. Of course she would, she was becoming ruthless. He had been right at least, she was developing her instincts. She tried to kill him, not in the heat of the moment, but after cold consideration. She could have left at any point, she could have run, but she chose to attack him. He had been right and though it was little use now, it was reassuring. The river. That was the best option. He’d dump her body there, she’d be carried off a good distance and the water would destroy a lot of evidence. They had fought and he couldn’t remember if she had scratched him in the struggle. He didn’t think so, there was no pain, but that meant little, not when he had such a rush of adrenaline. He’d have to check his arms when he finally stopped. At least it was fully night now, he would be less likely to be seen, now he just needed to make it to the river without being seen.

The river gurgled and splashed merrily as he dragged her body carefully towards the edge, the hands had been removed, as had her teeth. It had been a messy process but it had to be done. He pushed the body into the river and watched it bob along for a second before the darkness took it. The river only ran through the city briefly, afterwards there was a long stretch of land where it wouldn’t be found, if it washed up along the shore animals would consume a lot of the body, if not she might even wash up another city over, it might be a while before they pinpointed her origin. They might think that the abductor took her from her own city and carried her elsewhere. At least that was his hope. He picked up a tooth from his hand and dropped it into the river, doing it one by one. When that was done, he went back to the hands and started to cut. When he was finally finished, he had skinned her hands and cut the skin into small pieces, which were then scattered into the river, finally, he threw her skinned hands into the water. He bent down at the edge and rinsed his hands. The water was colder than he expected and by the time he had finished, his hands were almost numb. He returned to the car and looked in the backseat, the dark stain wasn’t visible against the fabric, not when it was so dark, he’d get away with it for a short while at least. The clothes she had been wearing were balled up in the back, no doubt the blood had already glued them all together. He’d burn the clothes later.

He drove back to the house, he didn’t want to return to the apartment just yet. He pulled into the driveway, parking the car as close to the house as he could. He wanted to change as soon as possible, the blood had kept sticking to his skin when it was wet, now it was dry, it was binding to his skin, pulling and tugging against him. He didn’t like it, it felt dirty. He didn’t like the feelings he was experiencing. He went into the kitchen and grabbed as many cleaning supplies as he could carry and brought them outside.

It took an hour of scrubbing before he decided to give up. The blood stain was still there, but it looked like wine or maybe some kind of red drink. No one would pay too much attention to it. He could always but some food colouring tomorrow and use that to dye the stain a weird colour, that would distract further from it. He entered the house again, taking his supplies with him and went to upstairs to the bathroom. He stripped from his clothes and got into the shower.

When he was done, he felt better. He changed into clean clothes and took the blood-stained clothes and brought them down to the fireplace. He started the fire and began to feed the clothes to the flames. It took a while, but he didn’t mind, he needed to think and the heat of the flames was soothing. It wasn’t his fault that this happened, no, it wasn’t. He needed to think. He stood and went to his study. Once there the lips whispered to him, over and over again. They knew who’s fault this was and now, so did he. It wasn’t his fault, not at all and now he would get his revenge. He smiled and started to plan.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 24 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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One Response to Deadly Secrets. Part 41

  1. Pingback: Deadly Secrets. Part 42 | Alan James Keogh

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