Fantasie Le' Mort

I look over at her one last time. She is tied to the bed, naked, her body covered in blood. I take it all in with my eyes. Breathing grows shallow, the heart stops beating, and it is over.

It was a long day. I sat outside watching her house for the entire day. I watched her leave. I watched her come home. I waited for dark in the bushes. She was alone. Still I waited. I watched her finish the dishes through the window. I could see her enter the bathroom and leave it behind. The lights went out. She is alone. Still I wait. I watch the moon set. A perfect night, all is darkness. The porch light casts a lame globe of protection. It is not enough. I breath deeply. I crawl from beneath the bushes. I step boldly to the screen door and I open it. BOOM! One swift kick and the door jam breaks. You think you are safe in your house? It is bullshit! Two steps through the pantry, the second door collapses beneath my shoulder. Three steps through the kitchen, her bedroom door is closed. Two more steps and I am beside her bed. She is confused, she is tired, she is startled, she is scared. She is reaching for the cordless phone. I snatch it from her hands and it explodes against the wall.

She is alone. I see fear in her eyes.

She knows she is going to die tonight.

Yes I have a gun, I explain. I do not show it, but I display the knife. The one I bought many months ago, the throwing knife. The one I have been practicing with. I offer a demonstration, naturally she declines.

Hello Love. Did you miss me?

I take out the panty hose from my pocket. I cut them in two. I politely suggest that she tie them to her arms. Another pair for the legs. Of course she asks me questions. “Not yet, Love. Lets get comfortable first.” She ties the panty hose to her extremities. All four. I start with her left leg, I tie it to the bed. Then the right leg, right arm and finally the left arm. I remove more panty hose from my pocket. They are smooth they will not hurt you Love. I tie her up all over again, this time with my own knots. She screams. Well dear, you see now that the knife is cold and sharp. It does not feel good to have it pressed against your throat.

Good girl. Shut the fuck Up. Good girl. You will stay quiet while I take care of things. I step out to the other phone. I rip it off the wall, destroying the phone jack. The third phone in the other bedroom, Gone. I check on her, she is still quiet. Shut Up! I will talk to you when it is time. I go to the door to do what I can to make it whole. No one will notice unless they come to visit. Better for them if they don’t. I can hear her struggling. No matter, If I can hear her struggling, she is still bound. This whole matter takes less than a minute. I return to her bed. We are finally alone. I take out the scissors, you know the kind, the ones the ambulance people use. I remove her clothing. She is asking what I am doing, what my plans are, I tell her to be patient. God she hates me. I see that fear in her eyes, but much deeper I see the hatred. She is beautiful. She is naked beneath me. I get her a blanket, I do not want her to be cold. I remove a few items from the backpack I have brought. I have one liter of Ruby Red Squirt, a bottle of aspirin, an assortment of scalpels, and a kitchen timer. I offer her some soda. She declines. Other than that I ignore her. She will not scream. She knows what I know. She knows that I crossed a threshold. Not just the threshold of her house, her home, but a point of no return. She knows me. I don’t know if she has figured it out yet, but soon she will. There is no turning back. This is insanity. Once I came through those doors, I gave up my freedom forever. I will follow it through now because I must. If I do not they will lock me up. I will have, I will be, nothing. I swallow 6 or 8 aspirin. I remove candles, a small candle holder,and a bottle of wine from my pack. It is a bugeulais. I do not open it. I take a CD from the backpack. It is Bach. I put it on the stereo. The music is soothing. I place the candles in the holder and light them. I set the timer to 55 minutes.

55 minutes Love. We have 55 minutes to talk.

I think she knows........................................

We talk, for 55 minutes. For 55 minutes, we actually talk. I make sure she is warm and comfortable. I do not remove the blankets. I do not leer at her body. Amazingly she softens. Her voice becomes gentle, as it used to be. We laugh. We talk about couches and wine, stolen nights of Love. Mind to Mind we see each other Heart to Heart. She misses me. She was scared. Scared of me, scared of us, scared of her. Mostly she was scared I would do this. I thought she was crazy all this time, but she was right all along. It was just too much. She took away all my anger and left me bare. I quit. I will not hate anymore so I quit. My life is too hard without Hate.

I am sitting between her left arm and left leg on the bed. We are comfortable. We are smiling.


DING!
I had turned it away from us. We both jump. She begins to cry.

“Now it is time to say good-bye, Love.”

She has lost it.

I kiss her forehead gently. I kiss her lips, she kisses me back. I pull away and she says “No!” She tries to reach for me but she is tied to the bed. I pull the blankets from her. She is perfect, a thing of Raven beauty tied to the bed. Her nipples rise in the cool room air. I take off my shoes and socks, my jeans. I put on a pair of shorts I brought with me. I remove my shirt. My body is beautiful. I have worked hard. I am chiseled. I am ready. She sees the scars over my heart. “Dark Thursday.” I say. She nods with tear filled eyes. She knows that night. She sees the scars on my leg. “You were there, Love.” I say. She is confused. “You were on the phone. You were there. You knew.” She cries harder and says “Yes, I guess I did.” I point to my left ribcage to a perfect circle. “Freeze Brand.” She manages a weak smile between the tears. “Only you.” She tries to choke out. “Another one here.” I say pointing to my right armpit. “I am sorry, Love. I intentionally defaced the area of your fascination.”

She tells me she wants to touch me. She wants to touch my chest. I know this touch. She has touched me there before. It will heal me. I cut her right hand free with the knife. She rubs the scars over my heart and they go away. The ones outside will stay forever, but inside, they disappear. No Love, the knife is not within reach. You will be here for a while. I kiss her. She bites me hard. I taste blood. Just like old times. Her hand fills with my hair. I feel a pleasant sensation in my groin. I am hard. I take in breath sharply and deeply. I sit up and again she rubs my chest. I recite words she has never heard before.

“The blood flows down my chest fresh
From the cuts I have placed above my heart
As I look in the mirror I finally see the truth
The reflection does not lie
Scars without finally match the scars within
And the muse beckons me gently
I bleed and feel the sweet pain
The blood is finally real
I realize the despair of life
And the muse beckons me gently
To lie down in the tub
To bathe in warm warm blood
To watch it flow from me
To feel the sweet silence take me
To hasten the inevitable
I recognize the hoplessness of life
And the muse beckons me gently
I recognize her
And I turn away.”


She looks at me with hope.


“But alas Love. i will not turn away. The muse has won. i am going to her now.”

I pick up the scalpel and smile a crooked smile. It is in its sterile packaging. What irony.

“Kiss me goodbye Love.”

She is fading, she is out of her mind. She returns to reality to kiss me, and the tears stream hot down the sides of her face. I lick them all up. I sit on her pelvis. The scalpel dances along my left wrist. It glides through my skin effortlessy and bites me deeply. I feel nothing. The blood flows down my hand and across her naked chest. I watch, I smile as it pools on her and flows off of her. She will never admit it to herself ever for the rest of her life, but it feels good. It is warm and soothing.

She is out of reality again..........

I taste my life. I swish it in my mouth, I swallow it. It tastes salty-sweet. It runs down my face, over my chin, down my chest, over my heart. It drips onto her heart.

"My Life for You Love." I whisper.

I begin to get tired. My blood is thinned, it flows quickly.

“Amy?” I ask.

“Yes.” She says.

“Amy, am I beautiful?”

“Yes, Dearest, you are beautiful.”

“Amy…..”

“Yes, Love?”

“Play with my hair?”

Her fingers run through my soft hair as I curl up next to her. My life is everywhere. I am falling. I say “Purr” like always. She sobs out a laugh.

“It is time for Good Bye, Amy.”
“I know.” She says.


A long pause. I feel her hot tears on my head.

“Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever will I Love you, Amy.” I manage.

“Forever will I Love you, Eric.” she replies.

I lift my head a final time. She is tied to the bed, naked, her body covered in blood. I take it all in with my eyes. Her fingers stroke my hair. My breathing grows shallow. My heart stops beating, and it is over.