Lotto

47, 45, 06, 13, 22, 01, the numbers looked familiar, they really did, Chris reached down to his back pocket and pulled out his Lotto ticket and stared at it as the voice of the balls re read the winning numbers in ascending order, 01, 06, 12, 22, 45, 47, Chris started shaking as he re read the numbers over and over again, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake, he looked from the ticket to the television, he felt a numbness descend over him, what do I do now? He thought to himself, He started pacing around the room reading the back of the lotto ticket, the print was so small he could hardly focus, his heart beat had almost doubled and his hands were shaking, but he managed to read bits of information on the ticket, the bits that mattered, ‘Guidance on How to Claim a Prize’, he was sure he couldn’t just go marching into his newsagents and demand his share of £57 million so he studied the words carefully, ‘If you believe you have won over £50,000 telephone the National Lottery Line, he read on a little further to get the number and almost ran to the phone.
He stood for a few moments and composed himself; he breathed in and exhaled hard before reaching out and picking up the receiver and dialling the number. There were a number of multiple choice buttons to press to get to his claim, eventually hitting the right choices he managed to speak to an operator, he usually hated machines and multiple choice options when using the phone, but he soon realised that when you are waiting for a share of £57 million then you suddenly have a lot of patience, the operator who was assessing his claim was clearly miserable, she probably had to deal with hoax callers every week, and it probably doesn’t help your enthusiasm for others when they are screaming and whooping at the thought of being rich beyond their wildest dreams and she is sat by a phone earning minimum wage on a Saturday night. They eventually reached a common ground and a representative of the Lottery would visit him the next day with his Cheque and a financial advisor and anything else he needed, the woman’s frostiness didn’t thaw throughout the conversation and this annoyed Chris a little because with a little more effort he probably would have sent her a nice little bonus with his new found wealth as a little ‘Thank you for being there on a Saturday night’, but as it was he hung up and quickly forgot about her.
He didn’t know what to do next, he wanted to jump up and down and scream with excitement, but managed to compose himself enough to ring Dave and tell him the good news.
“Hello.”
“Dave, its Chris, guess what?”
“You’ve won the lottery.” Dave replied to Chris’ question, Chris was slightly taken aback, how did he know the news, he’s only just found out himself, was this a wind up?
“Yes, I have won the lottery how did you know?”
“You win the lottery every week mate then laugh and ask if I’m off to the pub.”
“Yeah but this time it’s true I really have won the jackpot, I didn’t know what to do so I rang you.”
Dave was reluctant to believe his mate but the tone of is voice was unusual, not wanting to seem gullible Dave replied with a sarcastic, “Really?”
Chris almost screamed at him in his excitement, “Yes really, I got the six numbers, now lend me fifty quid and I’ll meet you at he pub.”
“Fifty quid? You’ve won the lottery and you’re tapping me up for fifty quid?”
“I’m skint Dave, and the money doesn’t just appear out of thin air, there’s loads of paperwork and stuff to be done before I get my hands on the cash, I swear mate, I’m telling the truth this time, honestly, I’ll give you it back with 100% interest and take you on holiday, what have you got to lose?”
“Fifty quid.”
“Straight up mate, meet me in the pub in 20 minutes.” Chris was almost begging now, he wanted to go out and celebrate but had spent his last few quid on the lottery ticket, he never really expected to win, so didn’t plan for this scenario, Dave agreed to meet him but only because he wanted to see if his mate was telling the truth and after all, if he was lying, then it was a good excuse to get away from the wife for a few hours.
Chris arrived at the pub and Dave was already there, he was ordering a pint of Carling so Chris stood next to him and told the barman to make it two.
They sat down in a dimly lit corner and sipped their drinks, Dave passed Chris the fifty quid he asked for by sliding it across the table, Chris was forever borrowing money; it wasn’t a problem because he always settled his debts as soon as he got paid, so the transaction between the two was almost a formality.
Chris was visibly excited but he didn’t know what to say to Dave or how to approach the subject of being a millionaire without sounding like he was bragging to his best mate, after all, how do you act when you know that you don’t have to go to work on Monday morning and the man who is celebrating with you has to go back to the boring lifestyle he is accustomed to, the life that, until an hour ago, the life that Chris was accustomed to, it was Dave who spoke first.
“Go on then, how much you won?” he asked nonchalantly but was secretly as excited as Chris, even his stomach was doing cartwheels, it was wrong to assume he would see any of his mates money, but they were best mates, he knew Chris would see him right for a few quid.
“£57 million.” Chris answered as if it wasn’t a big deal, Dave nodded his head and stroked his goatee beard before replying,
“That all, It’s hardly worth winning these days, I mean, what can you buy with £57 million?”
Chris laughed, what couldn’t you buy with that money? Both of them sat in silence for a minute while thinking about what they would spend it on.
“It hasn’t sunk in yet, I don’t think it will ‘till the money’s in my bank.” Chris said with a slight look of concern in his eyes, he still wasn’t sure if it was true yet, even though he had all the evidence and proof and the winning ticket safely hidden at home, he still didn’t believe it.
Dave nodded in agreement, “I doubt you’ll ever stop pinching yourself, you always be expecting to wake up any moment, have you any ideas as to what to spend your money on? Apart from giving me a hundred quid and taking me on holiday?”
“Not really thought about it, I’ll probably buy my own place, have a nice holiday, see my mates right, might even throw you a few quid too.”
“Take it easy, don’t go mad, at this rate you’ll be buying a new van and a new set of tools and be first on site Monday morning.”
Chris scoffed at the suggestion he’d be going back to work, “you can have my tools if you want them”
“Oh look at mister generous in the corner, ‘have my knackered old tools’, you know what, I will have them off you, I’ll take them to the antiques fair, see what I can get for them.”
They both laughed and Dave nodded at Chris in a mutual understanding that he would be happy to have some of his work tools since he wasn’t going to need them again.
“What you done with the lottery ticket then?”
“Hidden it in a safe place.”
Dave thought for a second, squinted at Chris and asked, “Is it under the clock on the mantelpiece?”
Chris laughed, “No, and I’m not going to tell you where it is.” He shuffled in his seat, slightly worried that his mate had managed to guess where he had hidden the ticket, he hoped someone hadn’t overheard and was now planning to go and burgle him, that’d be is luck! He took another swig of lager and looked around, they were the only ones in that particular part of the pub and he felt confident that the only two people in the pub who knew he had a winning lottery ticket at home were sat at that table and he trusted Dave implicitly, although he still wasn’t going to disclose the whereabouts of the ticket.
They managed to drain five pints each before the pub closed for the night and they were asked to leave, not before Chris had managed to declare that he would buy the pub and keep it open all night. They had chatted all evening about what he could do with the money, it was almost like a fantasy conversation, Dave couldn’t believe it, he was slightly jealous but was really pleased for his mate, “You gonna tell Claire?” Chris asked Dave as they staggered on their way,
“I think I’ll have to, don’t you?” Chris shrugged his shoulders realising that this was a secret that couldn’t be kept and once Claire had hold of it, then the whole world would know within an hour,
“Well in that case Dave, can you not tell her ‘till morning, there are a few people I want to tell the news to myself, and much as I love your lass, she has got a tendency to be terrible at keeping secrets.”
Dave chuckled in agreement, he knew what she was like, and it was her big mouth that had brought them together in the first place, but that was another story, “Yeah, no worries mate, I’m gonna go this way, it’s quicker and it looks like it’s gonna piss it down any second now.” Chris hunched his shoulders up to protect himself from the inevitable downpour,
“Yeah, I just got a few spits of rain on me, I’ll catch you later.”
“See you Chris.”
They set off on their separate ways as the rain started to get heavy but Chris didn’t care, the alcohol had given him a warm feeling and with the thought of all that money in his head meant that no amount of rain could dampen his spirits that evening.

Chapter one

Chapter 1

I was born Robert Patrick McGuiness, yes I was Irish and my mother and father were Irish, we moved to England in 1953 when I was six, my brother James was born ten months after the big move, He died before he was 8 months old, the doctor said it was cot death that had taken him up to heaven, I knew differently, the pillow that I had held over his head the night before had more to do with his death than the cot, I didn’t really care for James, he was too noisy and got all the attention, he just seemed to get in my way, it was like he had stolen my parents, I was lucky if I could get a smile out of my mother whilst James was around, after he was gone, I got hugs and kisses and life was good again.

Less than a year later my mother gave birth to a girl, Patricia, strangely she died in the same cot but I didn’t smother her, I know I had planned to do it, the same problems had risen and I was on my own again, but before I could get to her, she died, I don’t know what of, but I was bitterly angry with her for dying on me like that, a total waste of a good plan, how dare she die before I could kill her, I almost wanted to suggest that my parents have another child, but I didn’t want to repeat that isolation of being second best.

I eventually realised that I had my pick of children at school, I was sometimes scared at how my eight year old mind worked, it didn’t take me long to realise that I could feed my lust for misery and pain and death without causing pain to my own family. I felt invincible and I couldn’t wait to get started.

It was pretty obvious to me that if I wanted to kill somebody then I would have to start a fight or at the very least get involved in a fight in the playground, this would be pretty easy, finding the right victim would be the hard part, I was a good fighter and I wasn’t scared of anyone at my school I just didn’t want to pick someone who could actually punch me back, the only problems I could see were, detection, the body would definitely be found, I guessed that if I did it in the morning then nobody would miss my victim until the end of day when his mother picked him up from school, this gave me time to try and get the body hidden, I couldn’t go and dig a hole so I needed to work on that plan.

The second problem I was worried about was evidence, I had to be thorough with the way I killed him, I had to make sure nobody saw me and that I left no proof that I was the one who had murdered a child, lord knows what my father would do if he found out, I definitely couldn’t get caught.

That was pretty much my prognosis of a perfect murder, only I didn’t see it as murder at the time, more, a bit of fun, a fight that went wrong, I didn’t mean to do it! Only I did mean it, every last bit of it.

Tuesdays were bin collection day, I decided that I could get rid of the body in a bin bag toss the bag into the larger bins and let the bin men take him away to wherever they take our rubbish, I just needed to pull bin duty for that week and I’d be laughing.

Craig Simpson was my victim, he was short and skinny, he looked like he hadn’t eaten for a month, it was well known that his family were poor so I felt like I was doing them a favour by reducing the number of mouths to feed round the dinner table, hell I could even take out his sister too and then I might becomes something of a saviour to the Simpson family, I thought of all the praise and adoration I could receive until the reality hit home that I could never tell anyone what had happened to Craig, so I guess I would have to settle for being a silent hero, I made a mental note to always wear a knowing smile whenever I saw Mrs Simpson in the future.

Pulling bin duty was easy and it got me out of assembly every morning for the week, I had to empty all the bins in the classrooms into a black sack then take the sack to the main bins and throw it in for collection on Tuesdays. Now all I needed was Craig.

Craig’s mum always drove him to school; his sister was at secondary school and got on the school bus. That morning I got up early and walked through the fog and pitch black night to where Craig’s mum always parked her car, I decided to let the tires down, I needed Craig to walk to school today! I did each tyre one by one, and then I slashed them with my pocket knife for good measure, I ran home hardly able to contain my excitement, I was about to explode on the inside, but you would never be able to tell for looking at my exterior, I had been practicing this for months, showing no expression or emotion on my face no matter what was happening inside.

I arrived at school earlier than normal, I could have kicked myself for making the mistake of changing routine, I was always one of the last to arrive, it didn’t seem to matter as the rest of the children filed through the school gates, I even viewed them as children even though I was a child myself, I felt above them in some way.

Our teacher took registration, everyone was present apart from Craig, my plan was working already, I pictured the scene in my head, Craig’s mother almost crying as she looked at the tires on her clapped out old car, she would be pacing up and down trying to work out what to do, she would be smoking a cigarette as she decided to call the police, she always called the police, she was a nut case, no matter what happened, she’d call the police, she would then tell Craig that he would have to walk to school on his own while she waited for the police to arrive.

Craig would, about the time of registration, be walking merrily to school, it was a route he was familiar with so he wasn’t scared about doing it alone, he also knew that he would be late so he didn’t hurry too much, the kid was so predictable!, The teacher gathered everybody up and led them to assembly and I dutifully stayed behind to empty the bins, This particular morning I did that job in a lightning quick time, I had to get to the main bin shelter before Craig arrived, I had roughly 25 minutes to do the job, my heart was pounding with excitement, I threw the rubbish sack into the big bin, went and filled a bucket of water and then waited for Craig, he walked through the school gates and towards me, hidden in the shelter, when he got close enough, I emerged, beckoning him to, ‘take a look at this’ which is an invitation nobody can resist.

The killing went like clockwork, I punched him hard and repeatedly hit him in his face with my fists, I held his face and repeatedly smashed the back of his skull against the wall, eventually I took my knife and stabbed him in his eye, blood sprayed out onto my jumper and turned my hands red within seconds, I eventually removed the blade and sliced his throat, then bundled him into the bin liners, I tied the sack then struggled to get him into the bin, this was something I hadn’t planned, he was supposed to go into the sack then I was to simply toss him into the bin, he wasn’t heavy, he never ate, he was a bag of bones, yet suddenly he’s as heavy as an elephant. It didn’t matter. I felt the sack eventually leave my aching shoulders and fall into the bin, the job was done, now for the blood, there was a lot, I picked up the bucket of water and sloshed it around, washing away the worst of the blood, most of it was on my jumper, but I had a plan for that too, it was going straight in the bin outside the school gates, different collection day to the school so it wouldn’t end up next to the body.

I had to get a couple of buckets of water to wash away all the blood, I then returned to my class and informed the teacher that I had done the bin duty and even rinsed the area down because it was pretty smelly, washing down the area was usually reserved for Fridays, all bin monitors loved Fridays because you got to play with the hose pipe, I also told my teacher about a strange man I saw who was in a red car that was parked outside the school gates looking at the school. There wasn’t a man at all, I didn’t even see a red car for that matter, but I already knew that once Craig was reported missing all hell would break loose and with no record of him arriving at school because he missed registration the police would have to start looking for a figment of my imagination, the man in the red car would become the prime suspect, the body would be off the premises and I’d be home free.

Happy days!

A Mask Of Sanity

A Mask Of Sanity

Suicide, it was something that was constantly running around my mind, I guess everyone has thought about it from time to time, about their own mortality, about a loved one or friend who has dared to mention the “S” word whilst upset or depressed, I bet many a sleepless night are had from the threat of, or the attempt of suicide.

But that’s the problem, it’s always them and us, the givers and the takers the movers and the shakers, I’m not in any way of suggesting that I’m going to top myself or ‘do myself in’ if you prefer and that puts me into the category of ‘us’, if I was in the category of ‘them’ then I probably wouldn’t be here right now, I certainly wouldn’t be thinking about suicide and I suppose I wouldn’t be trying to find all those people who could come under the ‘them’ category, them people who actually go through with it, who take their own lives, they are the ones I’m looking for, not to help them or make them see sense, where would be the fun in that?, I want to know how far I can push them before they crack, can I push them to the edge then reel them back in at my pleasure? Then when I’m finished with them in my own experiment on a suicidal maniac, just let them do it. I want to know what drives these people to that edge of no return then see if it works on regular people, those who are placed in the ‘us’ category, is that murder? I don’t know. The morel fibres in me suggest that what I’m doing is wrong, but the rest of me, the parts that matter, tell me this’ll be fun.

A Reminder Of Mortality

A Reminder Of Mortality.

Most of Sarah’s past seemed to fall into a hazy blur, some memories got mixed up into each other and they all become one big memory and that’s all that mattered. It didn’t matter to Sarah that she couldn’t put dates and times against particular memories, she was just glad she had them there, stored in her head, they were her memories and they comforted her, Only a few actually stood out and no matter how she tried to forget some of them or make them seem better, they remained, burned inside her mind.
The earliest memory that she could pick out was at a birthday party, she was young, almost five, her friends were all playing in the garden it was a hot day and she was having fun, she could see all the grown ups stood in the kitchen through the window, she could see them all crowded round her mother, her mother was crying, naturally this upset Sarah, but she didn’t want to cry in front of all her other friends at the party, that would be wrong, she was a big girl now, her mummy had told her that, so she didn’t cry. Sarah raced around the garden with her friends laughing and trying not to think about her mother in the kitchen, Sarah had her plan worked out to help her mother anyway, it was just a matter of time before she executed her fall and then all she had to do was act like she was in pain and her mother would stop crying and help her.
She tripped and fell, just as she planned but didn’t land as she had wanted to and she landed on her face, her nose bled and she screamed so loud her mother said afterwards that it could be heard on the moon.
It was May 1^st, Sarah remembered it so well, she never went to another birthday party on May 1^st again, that day will always be remembered as the day her father was killed in an Army exercise that went terribly wrong, killing one man, her father, the only man on the exercise who had children, fate can be horribly cruel some times, even at that young age, she could remember his face and her desperate attempts to only cry when her mother wasn’t looking, if she was caught crying by her mother she insisted that it was because she had hurt herself. She still has a little weep now, on the anniversary of his death, even though it was 25 years ago, the pain still hurts as much as it did when it happened, time has not been the great healer she was promised it would be.
Her next major memory in her route through life was secondary school and her main G.C.E. exams, she was terrified of failure, it had been instilled into all the pupils that failure was not an option if they wanted a decent life, a decent job, and employer will not employ someone who had failed all their exams. Sarah remembered sitting in the examination room with the rest of her school year, she had gone blank, the sound of other people scribbling words onto their paper terrified her as she looked down to her paper and all she had managed in an hour was to write her name. She couldn’t handle the pressure that was put on her to succeed, so she passed out.
She was always going to fail the exams, she was not an academic success nor was she going to be able to fluke a pass in her exams, she would have to join the line of people in the world who just manage to eek their way through life.

2

At 20 Sarah attempted suicide, she failed, it was a half hearted effort and was more of a cry for help, a cry for attention that drove her to try and kill herself.
Mark was his name, it was his fault, he drove her to the brink, although he didn’t actually push her over it, it felt like he had sowed the seed, She had loved him, he had loved her, Sarah would do anything for Mark, she felt that they would be together forever, they way that young love always lies to you. They were great together, they worked well together, and they were, in all sense of the words, a perfect couple, perfect that is, until Sarah got pregnant.
Mark wasn’t ready for the kind of responsibilities that fatherhood would bring him, so he left Sarah. He walked out without so much as an explanation, just the words, “I’m sorry, have a good life Sarah”
7 words that ended a relationship and almost her life, she lost the baby in the suicide attempt, this hurt her most, the baby was the only link she had to Mark and now it was gone.
Sarah never found love again, she didn’t want another man and she still loved Mark, despite what he did to her.
Her mother died on Sarah’s twenty eighth birthday, she had been very sick and Sarah had been caring for her for the past two years, It was still a shock to lose her mother even though she had been expecting it from the day she was diagnosed with Cancer, the doctors had given her six months to live so Sarah tried to make it the best six months of her mother life, If she was to die, then Sarah wanted it to be as painless and as comfortable as possible. It was not easy on Sarah to look after her mother but she felt a need to do something, she was glad that her mother defied the doctors predictions and enjoyed a further eighteen months with her, her mother was her closest companion her only real friend and now she was totally alone.
She was thirty now, it was exactly two years since her mothers death and she knew she wasn’t happy with life again, that’s why her memories are the only comfort she had, even though she couldn’t remember them all, and even though some of them became one.
As Sarah plummeted to the ground on her final decent from her apartment window, her life once again, flashed before her eyes, the memories played out as one short story.

How To Die In 12 Easy Hours (The Full Story)

How To Die In 12 Easy Hours

The jumper was stuck round his head, he was sure it had shrunk, that was the only reasonable explanation for his inability to get his head through the gap, I mean, Your head doesn’t just swell up at the sight of certain jumpers does it?
His head eventually poked through the jumper and although his ears were now bright red with friction burns and he could hardly breathe. He was finally content that he had managed to win the battle of the jumper, he looked in the full length mirror and saw the ketchup stain ruining his favourite jumper, after all the effort and his bright red burning ears glowing in the reflection the whiff of victory was snatched from him with the sight of that stain staring back at him, Wasting no time trying to clean the stain off knowing that it would be to no avail and he would eventually have to change the fucking jumper anyway he pulled frantically at the jumper trying to get it over his head again, the pain, as he tried to get it past his ears along with his mounting frustration caused him to rip the fucking piece of shit, he threw it to the ground and kicked the mirror for good measure, it shattered into splinters and managed to cut his foot.
He looked at the rest of his clothes piled up on a chair in the corner of the room and managed to dress without further incident although the buttons on his fly had a tendency to just open at will, unless of course, you needed a piss, then they somehow fucking fused together and he could almost hear the fucking buttons laughing at him as he stood in the gents scrabbling at his crotch trying to get the fucking stupid buttons to open so he could relieve himself that was another time an item of his wardrobe was ripped due to no fault of his own, it was a design fault. Not his, he was certain of this fact.
He went to his kitchen where he had already decided he was in the mood for a bacon sandwich covered in brown sauce, the day had started badly, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day and with a good bacon butty inside him, then the day could only get better.
He opened the fridge door and pulled out the pack of bacon and walked to the cooker, he found a pan and lit the gas, he opened the packet of bacon and realised he would have to buy some more from the shops later in the day, he picked up the first rasher and saw that there wasn’t another rasher of bacon sitting nicely below it, he studied the rasher of bacon in his hand to see if there was two rasher stuck together, he could plainly see that there was just the one rasher in his hand but he still felt the need to try and prize a rasher of bacon from his one piece, to no avail, this annoyed him because it meant that some fucker has had one rasher of bacon, one rasher of HIS bacon, what kind of sadist would do such a thing? Especially in his flat where he lived alone!
He threw his one rasher of bacon into the pan and hot fat splashed out and mostly landed on his jeans.
He picked out a slice of bread and cut it in half then he poured his brown sauce on the bread and spread it with a knife, he turned the bacon then turned the kettle on.
By the time the kettle had boiled he had finished cooking his bacon and consumed the sandwich without sauce dripping down his shirt, which was a massive possibility given the way his day had started. He made himself a coffee and proceeded to the front room and switched on the television.

2

There was a stupid debate show playing, The ones where a woman is sat on a stage and they bring out her husband and she say’s, “Billy Bob, I got summing to tell you, I used to be your brother” Then the husband character gets out of his seat and lays fuck into his Wife/Brother/ Freakazoid then sits down calmly, before telling the Wife/Brother/Freakazoid that he knew all along who He/She was and only kept quiet because he wanted to fuck Her/His pet horse!
He sat there in disbelief that people actually watch this crap, furthermore, people actually believe it and on top of that it is pigeon holed into the Entertainment slot. If it was up to him he would sit in the car park and shoot every last mother fucker who was associated with the show. He certainly wouldn’t be seen watching it. He turned the channel to the news and searched around for a cigarette, he found a box and flipped the lid, empty, he only bought a new pack last night, the nice lady in the shop, Connie her name was, served him, a pack of Lights and an 8 pack of beer. He had a secret crush on Connie, she had a terrific body and was around his age, he had a feeling that she also had a crush on him, in fact he was certain of it, well, he was certain of it until 11:30 last night when, if only she hadn’t refused him, she could have kept her pretty smile, If only he’d kept his head then she wouldn’t have lost hers, she wouldn’t be lying on the sofa behind him right now, a headless corpse laying on her front in the same room, her head was on the footstool looking at the body, the eyes were still open and looked soothing, he could stare at those eyes for hours, He mouth was closed and expressionless, such a pretty girl but at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to even think of what he did to that poor girl last night.
He managed to roll himself a cigarette out of the empty butts in the ashtray, it tasted bad but he needed his nicotine rush, god know what he might do without that hit every morning.
He flicked the channel to a morning game show, he was an intelligent man, his IQ was above average, he answered nearly all the questions correctly and would have won £5000 for his efforts if he wasn’t sat on his arse at home. The Woman on TV won nothing. If the stupid fucking whore who was on the television at the moment had enough intelligence to wipe her arse in the morning then she should have had the intelligence to realise she was a thick piece of shit and wouldn’t win fuck all on the game show. All her friends would tell her how well she had done and how brave she was to go on live TV and all that shit your friends shove down your neck, they know, like the rest of the nation knows that you just made yourself look a cunt in front of millions. Another one who’s a waste of blood and veins!
He drained his coffee and stood up to make his return to the kitchen for a refill, He looked at Connie’s hand draped on the floor, she looked so cold, he continued towards the kitchen. On the way he stopped at the linen cupboard he opened the door and took out the assortment of blankets until he found what he was looking for, he threw the electric blanket over his shoulder and continued on his way, the kettle took an age to boil, he made his coffee and returned to the front room hoping that Connie wouldn’t be there or better still, she was sat there with her big smile watching the TV, probably answering all the questions wrong. He built up the perfect image in his head as he walked slowly into the room, Connie was there but not in the way his head had just convinced him she would be, no, she was there in the same position as she was in when he left the room, he set his coffee down on the table by the side of his chair and took the electric blanket off his shoulder, he opened it out and threw it over Connie’s lifeless cold body, plugged it in and switched the setting to 2.

3

He decided to take a walk, clear his head, go to the shop for cigarettes and bacon, he stood with his back to Connie and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first finger, He grabbed his keys and wallet and made a move towards the door, He glanced down at the electric blanket and smiled lovingly at nothing in particular before leaving the room, he put on his coat and shoes and left the flat.
It was a warm day and the coat wasn’t really necessary but he wanted to wear it, it was his shield, it protected him from the world, it should protect the world from him but this was just a fucking coat, there are no miracle coats in the real world, only people like him.
He walked the street towards the shop breathing heavily, his eyes darting from one side to the other he could sense things, things that normal people missed, the roar of the traffic was like a pulse in his ears, he could hear people talking about him, hell, he could even hear their eyes turn to look at him, they knew, they all fucking knew, they just didn’t know what they knew yet.
He dug his hands deep inside his coat pockets and kept his head down, why didn’t he put on his hat? He can be so stupid sometimes, the hat was his animosity it was his distraction and he’d left it at home, it was too late to return to the flat, you can’t just turn around in the middle of the street, that’s what a crazy person would do and that would arouse suspicion.
He reached the shop and had perspiration on his brow, he picked up a basket and headed towards the fridges where the bacon was stored, he picked up a packet of 8 smoked rashers and placed the item in the basket, he stood in front of the fridge for a while, enjoying the cool draft that it expelled, he wiped his brow and tried to concentrate, to focus, to remember if he needed anything else. His mind was blank, he slowly walked around the shop looking at objects but seeing nothing, everything was a blur, he picked up some bin bags and an 8 pack of beer he took his items to the counter, the same counter that Connie was stood at not 12 hours before, his life was ok until then, he waited in line and looked at the floor, It seemed like a lifetime waiting and he was sure the people in front of him were deliberately taking their time, yeah, make the fucking man wait, he killed Connie, make him fucking wait in line, his mind was winding him up, he tried desperately to control his anger and his breathing, the checkout girl beckoned him over, he walked to the counter and told the girl he would like a pack of lights as well as the items in his basket.
He left the shop with his things and didn’t look back, Connie would normally be working that shift, he secretly hoped that it would be Connie serving him that time, but it wasn’t, the nightmare was true, he knew it all along, he wondered if anyone had any suspicions as to where she was, nobody knew where she was, nobody could know, only him.
He walked back to the flat as fast as he could without looking like a man in a hurry, he didn’t want to be in the flat, alone, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be out there on the streets where anything could happen to him, there are a lot of dangers on the streets nowadays and it simply wasn’t safe to be out.

4

He entered his flat and locked the door behind him, he walked straight to the kitchen and unpacked his items and put them away, he boiled the kettle again and made himself another coffee, he entered his front room and set his coffee down on his side table then walked towards Connie’s corpse he stood by her feet and lifted the blanket, he felt a gentle warmth rise up as he stared at her body, he placed the blanket to where her head should have been then he knelt down beside her, he looked at her rear then ran his fingers up and down her legs, the blanket had made her feel warm again, he felt excitement inside of him, he looked at Connie’s head staring back at him from the footstool and blew her a kiss, his hand slid up her skirt and carried on going until he could feel her panties, all the time staring at Connie’s face staring back at him, she didn’t flinch, her expression never changed, He thought back to the night before when he had his hand in the same place, she had tried to scream then, she was crying she was fighting back and that was a high he really enjoyed, he wanted to feel that high again, but he knew she wouldn’t scream for him again. He stood up and tried to push down the erection in his underpants, it didn’t seem appropriate that Connie should see his excitement. He walked back to the kitchen where he grabbed the large kitchen knife and sharpened it, he stood there staring at the blade and ran his finger along the edge, the blood trickled down the knife and dripped onto the floor, he put his finger in his mouth and sucked on his own blood, he didn’t feel the pain from the wound, he simply didn’t feel.
He walked back to the front room with the knife, tapping it against his leg with each step. He walked into his front room not quite knowing what he was going to do next but he didn’t care, he always did the right thing.
He looked at Connie’s face, he wanted her to see this, he rolled up her skirt to her waist and sliced off her panties with his knife, he was on a high again, he knew what he had to do, he could make it all right again, he stared at Connie’s naked rear end and couldn’t contain his excitement, he struggled with the buttons on his jeans eventually taking to just ripping the buttons away to save him any frustrations, he wanted this moment to be perfect, he held his erect penis in his hands and looked at Connie’s face, “I’m so sorry Connie” he said to her as he sliced his own penis down the middle splitting it in two, he knew what he had done, but felt no pain, the only pain he felt was the pain of what he had done to Connie, he knew he was a monster and he knew only he could make it right, he fell to his knees holding his penis while his blood poured out of the wound, he looked straight into Connie’s eyes as he lay there bleeding to death on the floor, he felt light headed, everything went blurred, he kept his focus on Connie’s face, the last thing he saw before he bled to death was Connie’s severed head. Smiling.