Morsel

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Artemis’s pattern is simple. It only takes a week to figure it out. When he’s not working on a movie, he ambles between the university, Mona’s studio, and an old movie theater downtown. The idiot is fixated on his habits, and that makes it easier for me.

In the meantime, I gather my supplies, which includes a new cage: a bigger version of the one I used with the sex worker. This metal enclosure is large enough for Mona to comfortably crawl around in, as well as lie down in, but not tall enough for her to stand up. It’s completely flexible too; it can open up on all sides. The infinite possibilities inspire me and keep me going, but before I can use it on my morsel, I have to take care of her husband.

Not many people—besides special effects artists reliving their glory years—come to this particular movie theater. So when the chosen day finally comes, the parking garage is nearly empty. A car here. A truck there. Empty spaces. Then an electric vehicle.

I park my van in the corner of the structure, a few spots away from Artemis’s car. There’s enough space between our cars he won’t think twice about it.

I’m ready.

Artemis turns the corner; his footsteps tap across the cement. I pull the van out of the parking space, then change my angle until the headlights surround him.

He hits the key fob; his car beeps, and the lights flash. I drive. His eyes widen, a scared little deer in literal headlights, and his mouth opens in shock.

My ears are throbbing. I don’t hear him scream.

His body thuds against the car. I jump out.

The puny sonofabitch lies on the ground, cradling his head and moaning like a heifer. The idiot can’t move. I wasn’t driving fast, but it was enough.

And the rest is so easy now.

I pull him into the van’s cargo bay, then I find his phone, power it off, and stow it in my pocket. He’s so distracted by the pain he doesn’t even fight me.

I drive as fast as I can back to the fields. No one will see us there.

I turn onto the two-lane highway. The landfill’s hill looms in the distance, and the back of the van rattles with yelps. I turn down the radio and listen carefully to his muffled words.

“What the fuck, Kent?” he screeches. The asshole must’ve found some sudden strength to be able to scream so loud. “You can’t do this?—”

My chest expands, my fingertips tingling under the gloves. I doubt he can hear me, but I say it anyway: “But I am doing this.”

The asphalt becomes dirt, and the rooster continues to squawk like it can hurt me. It’s just like Artemis to think that words hold any power.

Words can’t save him. Words don’t mean anything.

“That was always your problem,” I say. The van rolls to a stop, and I go around to the locked doors at the rear of the vehicle. The pathetic idiot bangs on the doors. I hold the handles. I don’t release the locks yet. “You think you can fight me with your big ideas, but do you think a monster will stop if you say ‘please’?”

My laughter booms out, and for a second, Artemis’s temper tantrum stops. I imagine him behind the metal doors, cowering in a fetal position while the fear courses through his nerves.

“You hear that, motherfucker?” I scream. I whack my fists into the van. “I control everything here.”

I open the doors to the cargo bay. A fist immediately hits my face. It’s weak though, like a toddler’s attempt at fighting. Either the car crash is still working against him, or he’s just as scrawny as he seems.

Another wimpy punch, and the idiot rolls onto the dirt like a tumbleweed. He scans his surroundings for an escape.

I pull out my knife.

He jets off, but his foot immediately catches on the outer edge of the offal pit, and he slams into the hard ground.

I stab the knife into the back of his calf and pin him in place like a housefly on a mounting board. Artemis howls, and I smirk at my own thoughts. He is a housefly, isn’t he? A nuisance buzzing around where he doesn’t belong. An insect like that belongs outside, where it can find a home in the offal pit.

Even the offal pit is too good for Artemis though.

His wailing agony vibrates through me, the heady rush of invincibility going straight to my dick. My shaft is half hard, not because I want to fuck him, but because of how good it feels to finally do this. I don’t know why it took me so long. I’ve been dreaming of killing him since I first saw him at Mona’s house, and now, the cock block can’t stop what me and Mona have.

Had.

What we had.

Mona and I are different now. I’m adapting, and this is what I want.

Artemis rolls around, then reaches for his phone, but it’s gone, and I grin. His eyes fill with panic as he realizes this is where he dies. I snatch the knife from his calf, then stab the other leg. Blood soaks through his pants and mixes with the dirt. It’ll be hard for him to run now, and that makes me smile.

I grab his ankles and drag him to the industrial meat grinder. I slap handcuffs on his wrists, restraining his hands behind his back, then I grab his ponytail, and his whiny yelps fill the air.

We make it to the top of the platform, right by the hopper. My elbow flicks the power switch. The machine buzzes to life, the metal parts singing in their shrill cries. Artemis twists like a chicken right before you snap its neck on the factory line. I tighten my hold, and the stringy meat sack can’t do anything now. I’m stronger. I always have been.

I fist his ponytail. “She’s all mine now.”

Then I shove his head into the hopper and keep him in place. His body convulses, fighting back, and he screams. Oh, fuck, he screams like it’ll save him, and it’s good, so fucking good, that my entire body buzzes with pleasure. I press him in farther, to the shoulders, then the chest, shoving him in deep enough that he actually hits the blades. The pressure mounts, and I press my entire weight against him?—

The machine stops.

His bones or hair must’ve gotten caught in the plates.

I crack my neck. This is irritating.

Then I realize Artemis is quiet too, and those annoyances float away.

I pull on his torso, but it doesn’t budge. His body is stuck in the machine. I wrap my arms around his stomach, then wrench the corpse with all of my might until we both tumble back, smacking down the steps to the ground. The wind is knocked from my lungs, and I wheeze, my body instantly sore everywhere.

Once I catch my breath, I sit up, and I see it.

Artemis’s hair is disheveled, resembling a bird’s nest, but the ponytail keeps his hair together. Blood drips down his face, and the top corner of Artemis’s forehead is gone, the grayish-brown glossy surface of his brain exposed. His blank eyes stare straight ahead, no longer able to see anything.

I sway, dizzy with giddiness. After every time he tried to fuck with me, after every time he doubted me, after every time he tried to take what was mine, the world is right again.

Artemis is dead.

After stripping the corpse naked, I hastily cut off parts of his calf and thighs—the thickest parts of his body—and I even cut off his dick.

I also power down the grinder. It takes a few minutes to carefully clean the machine. Soon, it whirs with purpose again, and I add the chunks of his body into the hopper. Pride finds its way into my chest, puffing me up to my true size. Artemis doubted me, and now, he’s where he belongs.

Mona probably still doubts me. That won’t last much longer though.

I text Jerry a simple Hey before I go back to storing the ground meat in a container. I need to work quickly before Mona notices her husband is missing.

Two handfuls of meat later, my phone buzzes.

What’s up, man? Jerry sends.

My gloved fingers slide over the screen, slippery with blood and mangled flesh. The words are visible through the thin, pink liquid. I need a favor at the plant, I type. Is the supervisor there? Can you let me in?

The asshole is on vacation, he sends. Head this way.

Another hour passes. I work fast. I dismember the rest of the body, store the ground meat, destroy the idiot’s phone, bury the pieces, and collect the rest of the incriminating evidence. I even take a shower.

Finally, I head over to meet Jerry.

I park at the back entrance of the processing plant. Several black, heavy-duty garbage bags dangle from my fists. Smaller chunks make for easier disposal, and these garbage bags are top-notch. No leaks. No weaknesses. They’re small in size, but they’re heavier than you’d think. Human flesh is dense, I guess.

Jerry waves me inside, then wrinkles his nose at the bags. “What is it?”

“I bought extra offal from the butcher, and it went bad.” I shrug my shoulders. “I gotta get rid of it.”

“I thought it’s better when it ferments? Those side effects, right?”

“Not this batch.”

Jerry nods, then clears his throat. I clench my teeth. There’s an uneasiness on his face as he studies me, like he suspects something is wrong.

“Are you okay, man?” he asks. “You look like you’re high or something.”

I can’t help it; I beam at him. Even an unassuming person like Jerry can see the adrenaline working magic in my veins, the power growing inside of me, spreading through me like a miracle food.

“Nah,” I say. “I’m just finally getting the life I’ve always wanted.”

Jerry nods again and watches me heave the bags into the furnace. His face is whiter by the second. He’s seen me discard toxic waste before, but by the weight and size of the bags, it’s obvious that he can tell that this—whatever is in my bags—is different. But the funny thing about someone like Jerry is that by the time he works up the courage to tell the supervisor about letting me in, there’s a good chance that Artemis’s body will be completely gone. There will be nothing left, not even ash.

Outside, we stop by my van. I grab the container from the front seat.

“I brought you the good stuff,” I say. I hand him the ground meat. “Just wanted to say thanks, man.”

Jerry flinches. He glosses over the van, then fixates on something. I wonder if he sees evidence of Artemis. If I missed something during clean-up.

It doesn’t matter though. Jerry won’t do shit.

He turns his head. “Don’t mention it.”

We shake hands. Once I’m alone in the van, I sigh with relief. I should’ve gotten rid of Artemis a hell of a lot sooner, but now I’m one step closer to getting what I truly want.

Artemis’s head is still in the mobile home. I don’t know if my mother or the mobile home’s previous occupant count, but Artemis’s death definitely deserves a prize. Depending on how you look at it, I figure his head is like a trophy of either my second or third kill.

And now, I can collect Mona.