I know that I want to finish up Crime Dragon - but I want to write it when I'm in a very happy mood, because... well... because Bob deserves that! LOL!
I have this Flash story running through my mind and I want to share it with you.
I've been sitting here, trying to die for hours.
It isn't my first time either.
Last time, I took some pills and washed them down with Jack Daniels. I can't stand Jack Daniels any more than I can stand my life so it seemed appropriate, some how. But I will be loved if I die. Somehow, I know this to the core of my very being.
The time before that, I tried to gas myself out of the house. The neighbors complained and beat on the walls, truly interrupting my plans. I mean, who wants to die with a ruckus going on of broomsticks hitting the ceiling? I think I can remember the sounds of those brooms, but it seems so distant now.
This time, I am a little more ingenious. I set my bath to nicely warm. Steamy curls of mist rolling off the claw foot tub surface. The water barely rippled by the slow flow of water. I immersed myself to chest level and sat there, letting my body relax after a nice glass of champagne.
I had bought Cristal, using the last of my savings. I deserved an expensive goodbye. It is my choice to feel elegant. To be glamorous in this one last picture frame of my life.
I take out the razor, careful not to cut my fingers. This must be clean, I think to myself.
This must look perfect.
I start at my left jugular vein and slice a gaping mouth into my throat. I do not feel the blood dripping down.
I feel nothing but a sigh of relief.
I am concerned as I see the hand holding the blade is hairy, and does not have my manicured nails.
How can this be? I have done this myself, have I not?
What is that trickle?
I hear it.
Along with the lub dub dub slowing of my heart.
And who is that laughing?
What is a man doing in my bathroom?
How did he get in here?
Why am I in my bathtub?
"But your honor, my client says that she wanted to die and he did nothing but assist her wishes." The Defense Attorney paced as he spoke.
"Your client is a serial killer who drugs women and uses hypnosis on them to make them kill themselves." The Prosecutor announced, causing a murmur amongst the jury.
"I object!" The Defending attorney yelled.
"Overruled. Gentlemen, please." The Judge ordered from the bench. "I don't want to be here all day - Prosecution go ahead and finish your questioning."
"Do you practice hypnosis?" The Prosecutor asked.
All eyes looked expectantly at the man sitting under the glare of television cameras.
"Yes, " the man lisped out through a half smile.
"Did you hypnotize this lady?" The Prosecutor pointed to picture of a smiling woman.
"Yes," Another smile.
"Did you tell her to kill herself?"
"Objection - that is heresay!"
"I'll answer," the man looked at his attorney who sat in openmouthed shock looking at him as if he were vermin, and instead of arguing, the Defense sat down.
"I gave her what her heart desired. I told her she could be free with me. That I would always love her."
"You'd always love her?" The Prosecutor echoed.
"Of course. I love them all." He nodded.
"And you told her to commit suicide?" The Prosecutor prompted.
"No. I told her she had tried it before. That she had not suceeded."
"And I told her if she wanted to be with me, she must succeed."
"She believed you? That she had tried before?"
"Of course, I'm no charlatan hypnotist. They all believe what I want them to." His chest puffed up with pride.
"And you make them go through with it?"
"No. I get them relaxed. I set them up and I tell them I will always love them as I slice their throats, using my own hand over theirs." He smiled up at the Prosecutor as if he were a child proud of his work.
"I see... " The Prosecutor took a few steps and turned. "Did you do this to the other women in those pictures?" He pointed at a row of beautiful women.
"I did. Everyone thought the women did it themselves." He said with a shy smile "They all wrote notes and let everyone know that they had planned this." He giggled, "I even had one call her boyfriend only moments before."
"That's why you never got caught?"
"What did you do with them?" The Prosecutor asked, amazed that he was getting the answers he already knew to be true.
"I tasted them. I loved them. I took them into my body. I truly loved them." His eyes took a dreamy far away look.
"Did you love them all?" The Prosecutor pointed at the pictures of the women again, trying to not show the disgust he felt.
"I did love them all. Down to the last trickle." He licked his lips as if tasting something satisfying.