Bowing Out

Tara knew her heart could no longer take the constant rejection. She had followed him for years, watching his relationships falter one after the other. Her hope was that he would eventually notice her as more than an assistant. Unfortunately, she probably knew too many of his darkest secrets for him to allow her into his heart.

What was she to do? After fifteen relationships, she could no longer bear to do this anymore. While he was out, she packed up her things into her overnight bag which had seen 927 overnights at his place. The only thing missing was her pocket knife, a gift from her dad which was priceless to her. She hated to go down there to get it. She knew the memories would frighten her, but she also couldn’t let her dad’s gift get left behind in that horrible place.

She walked down the steps and opened the basement door. The cold metal table in the center of the room gave her chills. The last time she wiped the table clean was the hardest one. The screams from the other victims haunted her every night, but this one was the worst, because there was no screaming. Her body was lying still on the table due to the drugs he gave her. As the blade cut through her skin, Tara cringed trying not to watch, but she had to hold the body, just in case.

This one would not live. This one could not live. As he placed the cavity around her heart Tara watched closely. She knew that as soon as he closed it Jennifer Collins would be dead, but her heart would still be beating and very much alive. The cavity closed severing the arteries from the body. He placed the cavity in its artificial chest so it could continue to pump blood. Tara watched Jennifer’s lungs deflate as her last breath left her body.

He left the room, knowing Tara would clean up after him as always. She did so, disposing of the body. She cleaned the table and surrounding area where surprisingly little blood had been spilled. The basement still smelled of the chemicals that were used to dissolve the body. The tears that formed in Tara’s eyes now were a combination of chemical burn and sadness.

She crossed the room, opened the drawer where her knife was kept, put it in her pocket and left the room closing the door tightly behind her as if not wanting the evilness to follow her out. With her tears still fresh on her cheeks, she grabbed her bag and left the house to try and forget something she knew she never would.