Analysis
By Kitana

Sitting on the dusty floor I couldn’t feel a thing, not physically or emotionally. I knew my body was numb but I just didn’t want to move, maybe because I felt that if I did then the thought of what laid in front of me would become all so real.

I don’t think I wanted that just yet.

I simply wanted to feel at ease? Yes, relaxed and almost at calm.

Looking down at myself I was a mess, it seemed everywhere I looked the light from outside wanted me to see what had happened. I just smiled, laughing from within, what a bizarre thought, how could something with no morals can show me what I’ve done? Only I could do that unless I stopped my eyes from seeing things. But if I did that then my other senses would betray me and I could smell, feel and even taste my venture.

Strange how the body does that, but that could be guilt or the fact if I lingered there any longer I would be found out.

No I don’t particularly want to be... caught red handed.

I laughed again this time physically and that foreign sound drowned out the silence that was so suffocating.

Caught red handed – I wonder was that phrase thought up because someone was actually caught red handed?
Maybe… and I would be ‘caught red handed’ if I stayed in this mess any longer.
I held my left palm up into the dim light that was spying from outside, it lit up my palm and the substance glistened, such an amazing and spectacular sight, pity it was somewhat perverted to have these thoughts.

Funny how I actually acted out what most people have thought to do. I can say that every single human on this planet has thought at least once, what it would be like to...

I laughed again, why was it so wrong to say it out loud? Maybe because this was very wrong, well by society standards, but isn’t it human nature? We are animals of course… because we can speak and think, does that alienate us from this unique experience? And anyway isn’t there far to many of us out there, what will one less individual do?

Nothing, nothing at all.

Would a woman who chose to abort her child be classed as I?
Of course not, not her, never her. She didn’t do it in cold blood. No, she did it because it was an ‘inconvenience’.

She wouldn’t be placed on a stand and convicted, but I would.

Killing an adult is one thing, but a child is another story all together. They are innocent not yet contaminated like us adults.

Society can really be fucked up, but that’s life...

...Or should it?

It crossed my mind many times not only when I was angry, but I just wanted to know what it would feel like to... kill.

Succumb to my primal self so to speak. It was the perfect opportunity, no one could connect me to him, and we had never met... yet sitting here I could think of a number of flaws.

No gloves meant my fingerprints were all over the place and the body, not to mention the weapon. The blood is everywhere and looking now my footprints are marked in blood, my clothes are covered in blood so leaving this place would be hell, for someone is bound to see me covered in red.
And I am sure skin cells and strands of my hair are scattered on and around the body.

A forensic scientist’s field day!

I lent forward drawing a smiley face into the drying blood on the floor and sighed. I could escape… or I could chose to continue what I came here to do.

A quite morbid and disturbing thought to most 'normal' people but dissection always fascinated me.

I only stabbed the man twice; surprisingly he didn’t put up much of a fight. I looked over lifting my finger from the floor, his blood was ice cold and the smell was musty, but it was something my nose was getting used to. If I breathed through my mouth then I wouldn’t feel the need to vomit. I already did that and a pool of bile and my lunch was drying up in the corner.

I could see the body quite clearly in the dark, his eyes were open and wherever I moved his cold eyes followed. I knew he was dead but the shine of his eyes made me think he was still alive.

I picked up the knife and decided there and then that I would perform an amateur autopsy. I sat next to him and ripped the shirt, he laid topless in front of me. I grasped the handle of my kitchen knife and placed the tip on the centre of his rib cage.

I took one deep breath and dragged the tip into his flesh and down his body just below his naval. His blood welled up and poured down the sides of his stomach.

I glanced at his face, closed my eyes and stuck my right hand and arm into and inside him. It caught me off guard because he was actually warm inside, and yet he was cool outside.

At first I didn’t know what the hell I was feeling, just slimy organs passing through my fingers until I opened my eyes, looked down and began to pull whatever I was feeling up and out of the huge gap.

It took me awhile but I had successfully removed most of his internal organs, though not gently but that didn’t matter.

The heart was the pièce de résistance.

I carefully examined it prodding it with my finger almost reminiscing certain parts of my ‘Human Physiology’ lectures.

But after the fun and games, the realisation of me killing someone had finally sank in, and not only that I had mutilated the body.

I sat back against the wall and smiled again, yes what I did was wrong but it would be as if I murdered and dissected a mouse or frog, but you don’t see anyone getting ‘life’ for that.

Think about it this way, I could be a giant mouse taking revenge on humans, a weird thought but not completely.

We humans aren’t so superior; we’re just corrupted and flawed, stumbling blindly through life...