#second murder

She shakes her head, clearly surprised that he would ask. The woman expects him to claim the table for his friends, but he does not, instead complimenting her on her looks and how nicely she is dressed. She has a hard time accepting his nice words, instead asking him if he is one of ‘Duane’s friends’ and thinks this is all just some practical joke. He assures her that he does not know any ‘Duane’ and buys her a drink, asking her about her interests as they sit together.

Ever so slowly he charms her as he gets to know the woman and her insecurities. They talk for a long while and he ends up taking her back to her apartment. Very shyly she invites him up for coffee, seemingly hardly believing what is happening to her, and he smiles brightly, accepting her invitation readily. The apartment’s interior is warm, comfortable and filled with well-worn furniture. The young woman apologizes for it, but he waves the apology away and tells her it fits her personality. He tells her that he likes it and she blushes rather prettily.

Before the woman can move away to the kitchen to fetch them a drink he stops her by taking her wrist and tugging her back gently. He takes her face between his hands, leans in, and very softly kisses her, telling her how beautiful she is as he pulls back. She stammers out an answer but he does not let her finish the sentence. He kisses her again, more firmly this time, and she responds hesitantly. Tonight he will take away her doubts and fears. He will worship her, make his world revolve around her and show her just how precious she is, like she deserves.

He had left her sated, feeling content and loved, with traces of that night’s ministrations clear on her skin. This had been three weeks ago and tonight he will elevate her level of beauty to a whole new level that is beyond the physical. She is expecting him and she opens her door quite eagerly. He steps inside and he gives her a slow, soft kiss, though he does not deepen it, as he greets her. She leads him to the sitting room then and he takes out a bottle of wine. He opens it, pouring them both a glass, speaking with her for a little while until she becomes drowsy, and he tells her it is alright. He tells her he loves her and makes her place her head in his lap as they sit together. The young woman does not wake up again.

He cannot move her as he had with his last work of art, and so he settles for placing a clear plastic sheet underneath her body, on the sofa which she is lying on. Again he is wearing latex gloves, and this time he is wearing plastic coveralls. He sedates her so that she will not feel pain as he works before he fully takes her life, and gets a scalpel from his bag. He cuts through her skin, peeling it from her flesh as carefully as possible, not wanting to damage it. Some parts – like her hands and fingers – are harder to skin, but eventually the entirety of her skin has come loose.

Taking a suturing thread and a needle, he sews the skin back together where it has been cut. It is a process that takes far too long for his liking, but he is a perfectionist and she needs to become even more beautiful; she deserves it. When the skin has been sewn together again he drapes it over a nearby chair, as though it is a suit that the woman has taken off after a long day at work.

She is still alive then, and he kills her by injecting air into a vein. He watches her die and then moves to the kitchen to take the biggest pot he can find, bringing it back to where the body is lying. A sharp knife is removed from his bag, and he presses the tip of it into the yellow fat of her belly, cutting it off as though he is cleaning the carcass of a pig. When most of it is gone, he starts scraping until there is absolutely nothing left in that spot, and when the pot is full he returns to the kitchen to melt down the fat.

He has glass jars, a few large ones, many smaller ones, and he cuts string, leaving each of them about four inches longer than the jar it is meant for. He ties the string to small metal discs and places one in every jar, using kebab sticks to keep the string from falling into the jar. He pours the molten fat into the jars then until the pot is empty and returns to the body. He repeats the process of cutting and scraping away fat until there is no fat left on the body, and all the jars are filled.

The next thing he does is remove the plastic sheet from underneath the body. Then he takes her bathrobe, a flower patterned silky affair, and dresses the skinned, now slim, body in it. The body is posed, her feet propped up on the sofa next to her, a glass of wine from her own kitchen in her hand, her arm resting on the armrest of the sofa, her robe opened a little in a suggestive manner.

She looks relaxed as she sits there. This pleases him and he hums softly to himself as he cleans up around the body and in the kitchen. After that he cuts the strings of all the jars, leaving them to stick out about two inches above the fat, taking the extra pieces with him so they may not be found. He arranges the jars around the body then, setting them on the table, the floor, the side table, the windowsills, and lights the fat candles. He checks everything one last time and takes off his coveralls and gloves, placing them in his bag, before looking at the scene before him for a moment.