Page 22 of Formaldehyde

Two, four, six, eight.. ten of them wrap around her scalp. Cinching the skin together in a tight grip. I follow the path of staples as they end behind her ear, then I continue on across her jaw and down her slender throat.

Blue hues cover the expanse of her translucent skin, frozen blood sits heavy in her veins, waiting patiently for me to nick one with my scalpel and drink her essence. I bet Alina would taste like a fine wine, fruity and rich. Her flavour would burst on my tongue like bubbling champagne.

A deep groan slips past my lips at the thought and my cock grows thick behind the zipper of my trousers.

I never thought I’d see the day where I got a hard on for a corpse, but this isn’t just any corpse. The young woman, frozen in time, is my little sister. My sister who I’ve missed, so very much.

Time continued on for me, whereas it stopped for Alina. She’ll remain forever seventeen. Stuck in the afterlife waiting for me but nothing stands in my way now. No family, no friends, just her and me, together in this frozen room.

I know it’s wrong. Everything about this situation is wrong, but I left my morals in the past a long time ago, and I can’t fight this urge inside of me to have my way with Alina. I deserve it, I’ve been patient. I’ve bided my time, I’ve been fucking good.

Lifting my hand from her face, I brush the pads of my fingers over the stitches on her collarbone, they’re rough and dry against my skin but she’ll soon become malleable from the heat that’s radiating through me. I’ll be able to bend her to my will, break her then piece her back together into my own perfect image.

Tiny beads of condensation glisten against her skin like raindrops gathering on thin blades of grass. They trail down her frozen skin and without a second thought, I catch one with my tongue. Sour chemicals and a taste that’s so unique to Alina, bursts on my tongue like a deadly cocktail and I groan from the pleasure she’s giving me from the dead. I trail the bead of water across her chest, following the incision down the valley of her perfect breasts like a bread crumb trail until I reach the well of her stomach.

My teeth graze across her flesh until a loose thread from the stitches gets caught around my incisor like dental floss. I tug at the cotton until it snaps, leaving a small hole in her stomach where frozen flesh threatens to pop out.

I rise to my full height and push my finger inside the small hole. I expect to find her guts all warm and slimy, like the corpses I’m used to but the tip of my finger grows cold the longer I leave it in there and when I pull it out, there’s no blood either. It’s clean but wet, a slimy sheen coating the area.

If Alina is cold and wet inside her stomach, what would her virgin pussy feel like?

The thought smacks me around the head like a brick and I stumble back, forcing myself to collect my thoughts. I’m toeing a very dangerous line here, if anyone finds out about what I’m wanting to do to my sister, I’ll no doubt find myself back in prison, permanently this time. But do I even care? There’s nothing left in the outside world for me. Would it be so wrong for me to indulge in the pleasures of life this job is handing over to me on a silver platter? I don’t think so.

Alina was always meant for me and now she’s here, to do whatever I want with. I can create the perfect living dead doll, just for me. I can give her a new look, polish her skin until she’s gleaming. There’s plenty of bodies at my disposal to get crafty with.

No one would notice.

No one would know, but me.

It’s all too perfect.

Just as the ideas bloom in my mind, a dark grin tugs at my lips and I close the gap between me and the box until I’m toe to toe with the table. I make a start on pulling the corners of the box apart to spread it open across the top of the table, leaving Alina in the middle but now, I’ve got more access to her. There’s purple bruising underneath her body where blood has pooled, settling heavy. It won’t be long before that blood is warming to room temperature.

I walk to the end of the table to where her feet lie, there’s a small toe tag hanging off her big toe and I take it in my hands. I already know the details that are written on it, but I’m a glutton for punishment.

Alina Ashcroft.

Seventeen years old.

Blonde hair, blue/grey eyes.

Suicide.

I trace the words written across the paper in Mr Wilson’s neat, script handwriting. Hurt and anger blooms in my chest like a poisonous flower. It sinks its sharp claws into my skin, and with force I yank at the tag to rip it off of my sister but I pull too hard. There, hanging in my grasp is the toe tag, with Alina’s toe attached to it.

“Fuck, no! What have I done?” I mumble to myself in a panic, then I try to stick the toe back on but it’s no use. Every time I press the fleshy nub back onto her foot, it falls back into my hand.

I won’t let her fall apart in front of me. I can’t allow it.

She needs to be fixed.

Placing the toe on the table, I scour the dimly lit room for some kind of medical box. Various shelves line the walls with all kinds of boxes sitting on them. My gaze trails over the boxes until I find a white plastic box with the words ‘first aid’ printed on the front, on the top shelf. With determination, I stride over to the box and yank it from the shelf then slam it down onto the table before flicking open the lid to find all sorts of bandages, alcohol wipes and fabric scissors. Rifling through the box, I dump out the contents until I find a small needle wrapped in plastic and black thread.

Taking the items I need, I shove the rest of the box onto the floor and make quick work of unwrapping the sterile needle and feeding the black thread through the small hoop, then making a small knot at the end.

It only takes me a couple of seconds to have the needle perfect, then I grab Alina’s toe that’s now growing warm and squishy, and place it onto the hole I created when I yanked it off. Inside, I can see the tiny bones and tendons that have been snapped clean in half. Dark, almost pitch black blood has coagulated around the rim of the wound and I use that now, soft substance as glue to squish her toe back on. The chunky blood squelches as I squish the two parts together, then with my opposite hand I push the needle through the tough skin to gather the toe and foot nub back together.

The black thread slips easily through the skin until the knot catches on the end, then I repeat the process of pushing the needle through the two folds of skin, gathering them together in a perfect stitch. It only takes a couple of minutes for me to create a circle around the toe and tie it off with a small knot, then I lean down over Alina’s foot and grab the thread in between my teeth to snap it off.