With the blade successfully out of Nancy’s thigh, I turn to face Frank who is seething with pure anger, he begins to open his disgusting mouth, probably to throw more pleas at me but I’m quicker and so much better than him. Within seconds I’ve got my palm over his mouth, the blade that’s clogged with Nancy’s thigh meat resting against his throat. A sour smell wafts up into my nose, like eggs that have been left in the sun for too long, his trousers begin to darken as piss trickles out the bottom of his trouser leg, soaking his socks and shoes.
“You’re disgusting, you know that right?” I say with distaste and he nods behind my palm. “I’m glad we can agree on something, but let’s not play eager beavers shall we. There’s plenty of time for you to have a turn, fat man. But for now,” I speak to him like a small child. “It’s little Nancy’s turn, okay?”
Frank’s eyes fill with tears when he realises that I’m not done with his wife. Don’t ask me why I didn’t start with him first, maybe because he was having a fucking snooze on the carpet instead of helping his wife. With that, I release my palm from his face, leaving a sticky string of saliva to attach to the leather from his lips. The sight of his yellow sick chunks on the palm of my hand makes me want to get a cheese grater to my skin, but instead I wipe it onto a dry patch that I find on his trousers, then I continue to chop Nancy up into bitesize little pieces, all the while Frank cries with agony for his wife.
I half expect my heart to crack in half at the sound, but it never happens. I’m too far gone.
My chest heaves as I crack open the last of Frank’s rib cage,splaying it open to resemble angel wings. Red sinew like stretchy candy slips between my fingers as I splay the last rib bone into place, the marrow cracks and snaps, the fat around his open chest cavity squishes and squelches as I move the organs around, placing them exactly where I want. A real life operation game if you will. Suddenly, his meaty kidney slips free from my hands and lands with an audible slap on the kitchen floor.
“Shit.” I curse. “Why are these things so fucking slippy?” I lean down to grab the kidney from the floor, a few curly black hairs stick the slimy film and it takes everything in me not to spew all over the floor.
Fucking pubes.
With my stomach in my throat, I pick each individual pube from the outer layer of the kidney, flicking them off the ends of my gloves and watching them float back onto the floor.
“Even when you’re dead, Frank, you’re still gross.” I mumble to myself and rise to my full height before placing the kidney back into place alongside his sausage-like intestines. Once everything is in place, I step back from the kitchen wall where I’ve attached Frank. I had to use my imagination for this one, removing the wooden shelves from the wall before almost breaking my back to hoist Frank up onto the metal brackets. It took a couple of shoves to get them through his fat back, but I did it, like the skilled professional I am.
With sweat trailing down my face, I step back to view my creation. The Angelmaker in all his glory. Frank’s corpse hangs by a thread on the wall, his rib cage splayed wide open to reveal his insides. A haunting angel for all to see.
“Merry fucking Christmas.” I say to no one in particular then begin to leave the house, humming the tune of Jingle Bells as I move onto the next unfortunate victim to spread the festive cheer.
I fucking hate Christmas, but what I love more is watching my favourite slasher carve his way through bodies with an axe.Terrifier 2plays on the flatscreen TV in front of me, the sounds of innocents screaming reverberates through the soundbar that sits on the wooden unit, each of them pleading for the killer clown not to take their lives.
The soft blanket that’s wrapped around my bare legs keeps off the cold chill of the winter months, and even with the fire roaring, I can somehow still feel the chill settling into my bones. It’s perfect. Nothing infuriates me more than suffering in the sweltering summer heat, those people that enjoy it are weird. Like, why would I wanna’ bake like a rotisserie chicken when I could sit here with a cosy blanket, a disgusting horror and plenty of snacks to feed a small village.
I know I’d probably get some weird looks if I admitted that out loud but do I give a fuck? Absolutely not. This house is my sanctuary.
“Nina, do we have to watch this? It’s fucking gross.” Alex, my long-term boyfriend, huffs in annoyance at my choice of movie and it takes all my patience to not snap at him. I don’t even knowwhy he’s here or why I keep him around, we’re just sleeping with each other at this point. The flame has burnt out on our relationship and neither one of us wants to be the one to step away. It’s sad really, that I’m spending Christmas with a man who annoys the fuck out of me on a daily basis, but he gives kind of good dick. I mean, it’s not spectacular and on more than one occasion I’m left to finish myself off but I guess I’m just lonely, which I definitely won’t be admitting to him.
“Look, my house, my rules. So yeah, we’re watching this.” I quip whilst keeping my eyes on the TV, fully engrossed in the massacre that’s happening before me. Alex huffs again at the side of me and I pinch the bridge of my nose in between my fingers to alleviate the pressure I can feel building there. He tries to slide underneath the blanket to get access to my legs but I quickly slap his hand away, feeling uninterested in whatever advances he’s trying to take.
“C’mon baby, we could be doing other things than watching this disgusting shit.” He shuffles himself closer to the side of me, pushing my boundaries but I’m just not interested right now.
“Alex, can we just have a nice night, please?” I say with a sadness in my tone and he quickly puts the space back between us before settling into the corner of the couch, then proceeds to pull his phone out to probably message all the other girls he’s seeing, and for some reason I can’t even find it in me to care.
The phone illuminates his attractive face in the corner of my eye and I watch his lips turn up into a grin as his fingers fly across the screen, lost in whatever conversation he’s having. I focus on him for a couple more seconds then I sever the connection to lean forward towards the small coffee table that sits in the centre of the room to grab my favourite snack, the Sour Patch Kids practically call my name as I grab the bag and yank the seal open to reveal the sour goodness inside. My grabby fingers dip into the bag to grab a strawberry one when Alex fliesup from his seat, his face white as a sheet.
“What the fuck Alex?” I snap at him but he chooses to ignore my question and grabs the remote from the table and begins to flick over to a news channel. “Why are you-”
“Nina, shut up and look at this!” He snaps at me before pointing the remote to the TV where a news reporter stands outside of a cosy looking home that’s been taped off by the police. I let his attitude slide for a moment and fix my gaze onto the screen, watching on as the reporter announces the breaking news.
“Good evening and welcome to Channel Five news, tonight we have some breaking news. A couple has been found in their home just behind me, murdered by the infamous Angelmaker Killer. What should have been a festive time filled with cheer and love has turned into a gruesome nightmare by the hands of a soulless murderer.”
He’s struck again..
The news reporter’s words flood into my mind in waves, spinning around my brain like a vortex. Without fail every Christmas, The Angelmaker targets innocents in their homes, slaying them in the worst ways.
“The couple, Frank Shaw and Nancy Shaw were left brutally murdered in their family home. The Angelmaker is known for his horrific acts of leaving the male victims in a harrowing position to resemble a fallen angel.”
Images of previous crime scenes flicker into my mind like an old film. Each of his male victims are left with their chests cracked wide open to resemble angel wings and the women are chopped up into tiny pieces, left to melt into the floor.
Alex’s face pales as the news reporter continues to share the story of tonight’s horrific event. “How the fuck has this dude not been caught?”
I often wonder the same question. This man has been evadingpolice custody for years, slipping in and out of homes like a phantom in the night, leaving zero evidence behind in his wake. Moving around like a ghost without any fingerprints. He’s efficient and skilled to no end, precise with his kills even if they are messy, they’re done with intent.
A strange feeling washes over me as I think more of The Angelmaker as Alex’s voice warps around me. I wonder if I’ve ever come across him before? Have we crossed paths during the daylight hours, maybe brushed shoulders in a crowded place. What does he look like? Is his face as menacing as I imagine it would be?
My thoughts shock me back into the present.
