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There is a Madness to his Method

The shot rang out, echoing in the hallway of the small apartment. A cloud of smoke provided an eerie effect as the body went limp forcing the dead man’s knees to hit the wooden floor at an awkward position and thrust the upper torso toward the wall. His head made a whip-like motion and struck the side of the hallway wall and generated the sound of cracking bone that was almost as loud as the gunshot. Z looked at the body, devoid of remorse or sympathy. The only emotion he felt was rage and it continued to grow. Death wasn’t enough. The piece of shit that lay before him did not deserve to have his story end with a bullet and Z knew that leaving a half-assed job would do nothing but prove his daddy right.

Z put his hands in his pants pocket and slowly walked away from the hallway and toward the kitchen. His eyes searched the room, but he did not know what he was looking for. ‘Hey, asshole. Look at the drawer by the sink. Don’t be a dumb shit. Get over there and find something to work with.’ the voice in his head was his father’s and he would relentlessly harass his son until the job was done correctly.

He searched for the sharpest object he could find. In the back corner of the drawer, he felt what seemed to be a Swiss Army knife. “Yeah you dumb shit, that is what you need.’ his father’s voice directed. Z picked it up and pulled out all of the items which included a miniature saw, four knife blades, a magnifying glass, a bottle opener, a corkscrew, a Phillips head screwdriver, a flat head screwdriver, an item for hooking up a fishing line, a toothpick, and some small tweezers.

‘I think I have found my fun for the night.’ it was his father’s voice, but he felt the pleasure. Z’s world rooted in the pain and anger only a sociopath could appreciate and one that was forged in the fires of a tirelessly abusive father. Every day felt like an endless journey as he searched to find what it was that would appease him. Only then could he feel a few moments of freedom, a few minutes where sanity existed and he was given just enough time to understand that he really wasn’t a monster, just confused. The only problem, at least for his victims was that once Z succumbed again to his rage, the reality was once again choked. He would succumb to his father’s never-ending abuse. It had never been a good versus evil dilemma, just sanity versus insanity. Even if Z had been sane, he still would have been a murderer. His father had always told him, “The Lord made some people only so they could help others. He made you so he could correct his mistakes.”

He walked back into the hallway to begin his project. His first instinct was to use the miniature saw. It reminded him of growing up in Mississippi. His father would chop down great pines and make him saw each one of them into small bricks.

“How unfair was that to make me saw every single one of those trees, father? My hands are hurting, please let me stop! Look at the blisters! But there would be no stopping. And it really didn’t matter because the end result would be the same. Bleed at the hands of my father’s punishment for disobedience or from my own. At least this way I got to choose the force at which the blows were delivered...

This is for you, daddy. This is for you!” Z screamed and he could hear his father laughing at him. His rage boiled over with tears and he dropped to one knee, hovering over the corpse. He pulled the miniature saw out of its casing with his left hand while grabbing the victim’s head. Z’s eyes widened with a hellish glare and his breathing became labored. The blade of the saw abruptly found its teeth in a perfect spot behind the left ear. Back in forth his hand went as the blade performed as if it had been recently sharpened. It gnawed through the skin and quickly confronted a mesh of muscle and eventually bones. ‘If you don’t speed up, we’re going to be here all night dumb ass.’ his father said.

An hour and sixteen minutes later Z stood up and raised his trophy to the sky. He held the severed head away from his own body, careful not to get any blood on his favorite jacket. It was a simple green and yellow jacket his mom had sewed for him when he was a child from recycled old shirts, so as not to waste money. She took such good care when she washed clothes that after 33 years the fabric still felt like a warm embrace. Her embrace.

He bent down and placed the head in-between the wall and the body’s left shoulder and then picked up the Swiss Army knife, pulling out each blade and accessory he had not yet used. Over the course of the following seven hours, Z used every one of them, except for the magnifying glass, to dismember the body. The nail file was great for inserting in-between teeth and twisting so they would crack and fall out. The largest blade made it easy for him to cut through the skin on the victim’s mid-section and then slicing through the organs for easy removal. The small blade was the perfect size to easily cut out the eyes while the tweezers allowed him to pick out any little bit of muscle or flash that might have fallen into the empty sockets. Finally, he opened up the magnifying glass and was flabbergasted. ‘So what are you going to do now you dumb shit? God dammit I knew you were going to fuck this up! You have always fucked everything up! Look at that. Look at that magnifying glass. All you have to do is find one thing you can use it on to take apart the body and you're finished, but you can’t. You are the worst fucking son I could have ever had.’ Z screamed in frustration. All he had to do is find a way to use the magnifying glass and his dad’s voice would shut up for a while and he could find some peace.

He stood up and walked around the house, trying to figure a way to use the magnifying glass while his dad’s voice continued to berate him. Walking past the window, the first rays of morning sunlight began to filter through the curtains and it finally hit him. He remembered the ants he used to set on fire with the magnifying glass he had as a kid.

Z found a kerosene lamp on the mantle and took it down, carefully pulling off the glass cover. Then he walked back to the body, placing the head inside the hole he had created in the stomach area and smashed the kerosene reservoir on top of the head, smashing it to pieces and causing the gas to spill all over the body. He pulled the body over to the window and opened up the curtains, making sure it was in just the right spot to receive the most sunlight possible.

“Now I can use the magnifying glass and you can shut your fucking mouth and leave me alone.” his father continued to berate him, but he was so happy with his solution that he tuned him out. He picked the knife off the floor and pulled out the magnifying glass, carefully angling it so that the sun’s rays passed through it and created a concentrated spot on the top of the victim’s head. He waited for what felt like ten minutes, but he finally saw smoke appear. Then with a woosh, the kerosene ignited and engulfed the body. Z was too close and the kerosene that was has spilled onto his pant leg had caught on fire simultaneously. He ran to the bathroom and stuck his foot into the toilet, extinguishing the fire on the bottom of his pant leg. It had burned just enough to singe his leg hair, but there was no additional damage. He washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. His father’s voice was gone and he involuntarily smiled. It was unusual for him to see himself smile and it caught him off guard. He was mesmerized and started laughing uncontrollably. Z had not felt that happy in a long time and would have stayed there for the rest of the day looking in the mirror if he could, but the fire had spread from the body to rug and now onto the furniture. There was the crackling of the wood that signaled it was time for him to leave.

Z walked past the hallway on his way out the door and noticed a little white cat licking the blood from the scattered remnants of the body.

“Oh Kitty, I do not want to see you get burned up. You are not the one who stole from Mr. White.” He picked up the cat and in the most pleasant manner, carried it to the closest window that was in the bedroom by the front door. He turned both locks and used his free hand to open it up as wide as it would go. Z then threw the cat out the window and then promptly locked it back. Immersed in the fulfilling emotion of a job well done, it did not dawn on him that the apartment was twelve stories up. As he closed the door to the apartment, the cat landed just beneath the front tire of a passing motorist.