Chapter 6

Sasha Walker, with her low-cut black blouse, pushed her way past David Dahmer with her non-knife fingered hands and strolled confidently, dare I say, devilishly into his apartment.  There was no way she was here in his apartment as a pure coincidence, Sasha didn’t believe in coincidences.  Everything happened for a reason, everything had a cause and effect, “Davey, what’s the plan my man?”  Her red lipstick was smeared all over her visually sharp teeth, had she been eating something or someone prior to visiting David?

Even in his deepest darkest level of fear, David still found solace in the fact that Sasha’s face was not melting from her skull.  Even with her face intact, David continued to have still framed images of his mother burst before his face, the way her lips had melted into thin lines of scorched meat.  The way her eyeballs were smoked over, that is, the parts that had not oozed from the conjunctiva still rang deep inside of David’s soul.

While watching David trip out, certainly knowing exactly what was happening to him, Sasha began to clang her finger knives together.  The metallic sound echoed through the partially furnished apartment, attacking David’s ears, snapping him temporarily from his photo album of horrors, “Break free David.  Accept the images, let them in, just relax.  Everything is going to work out.  I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to hurt you for breaking our deal, for not accepting my ultimatum on the bus.”  Releasing a spine-tingling laugh, Sasha continued, “Hell, I’ll let you choose where I hurt you, any body part, it’s your call.  Just get ahold of yourself, this is your life now, fighting will not help, fighting this is like picking at a scab expecting it to not bleed.”

He didn’t know this, but David was about three percent away from having a panic induced seizure.  With each shuffle of the grotesque pictures in front of him, David’s blood pressure continued to spike.  Much more of this would certainly result in a myocardial infarction, there was little doubt about it.  While approaching a critical moment, fighting off a heart attack, David’s body suddenly popped, literally and figuratively, and he paused, stoic and calm.

Rubbing her hands together with glee, Sasha couldn’t disguise her pleasure, “There he is.  Welcome home David Dahmer.  Jeez, is it hot in here or I am getting turned on right now?”  Slowly walking circles around our now powered-on psychopathic David, Sasha strutted confidently at her success, at her conquering of David, “I do believe it is time to have some fun.  You need to go see Jack and Wendy, the sooner the better, they can guide you.  If you agree, I promise I will not hurt you…today.”

David’s eyes did not waver, his head remained hanging and limp, tears dropped like melting wax as it impacted the carpet under his feet, “I’ll go right now.  Don’t hurt me or I am going to hurt you, I’ll kill you.  You don’t want to mess with me, I am not of this world anymore.”  Patting his pockets slowly, methodically, robotically, David ensured he had his wallet and keys.  His trip back to the pharmacy did not require either of those items, however, in his current state, David couldn’t afford to lock himself out of his apartment.  

Sasha was pleased, she didn’t even try to hide her successful smile, “Good.  I’ll go with you Davey boy.  Maybe we can make some love when we get back, nasty, wet, smelly love.  I think we can do that, you might even like it.”  The feeling of controlling another person, someone with their own freewill, is wildly intoxicating and apparently erotic to the sinister Sasha.

After confirming he was in possession of his keys and wallet, David opened the door to his apartment, a faint squeal cried out, as he waited for Sasha to remove herself from his humble home.  As she moved past David at the threshold of his apartment, her hand grazed the crotch of his denim-covered member, gentle fingers seductively slid across him, a slight tingle danced up his body but that was all.  He was officially zombified, all he could do was follow the directions of his controller now.

The two walked slowly in the direction of the Davindale Pharmacy where Jack and Wendy would graciously lead David under a false sense of hope.  David didn’t know this, but he would have been better off just staying in his apartment, locking the door, and handcuffing himself to the furnace or some other immovable object that would be practically impossible to escape from.  This situation was not his fault, but fault is objective.

Side-by-side with David, Sasha reached down after their hands bounced off one another and interlocked her soft, gentle fingers with David’s callused hand.  Her pristine nails, sharp and maintained, contrasted dramatically with the chewed down fingernails that lived at the end of David’s fingers.  The majority of his fingers had bleeding sores burning from constant nervous nibbling.  Sasha did not care; David was her puppet now.

The soccer moms and late-night workers populated the sidewalks, rushing around accomplishing errands before they had to go to work or grab their kids from school.  The numerous twisted faces David and Sasha received was astonishing, they all knew David, his background, and where he had come from, the family he came from.  Sasha proceeded to flip the bird with her free hand as she aggressively clamped her other hand hard into David’s.  No one, not a single person, paid any mind to her flipping of the bird.

Less than a block away, David had yet to say anything significant.  He had locked the onslaught of wretched images deep into his brain.  Gone, for now, were the pleasant images of a happy life, all hope was almost lost.  David was still trying to save himself, following Sasha’s instruction to get to the pharmacy and allow Jack and Wendy to help guide him back to the light, fix this irreparable damage, and save David from the darkness.

Gently rubbing her fingers across David’s swollen knuckles, Sasha continued to travel with him as the pharmacy’s glass door came into focus.  David increased his pace ever so slightly, accidentally bumping into a teenage girl with a sloppy ponytail and torn jeans, “Watch it Dahmer.”  The teen turned to face David and Sasha as her body became consumed with rage, teenage rage that came and went sporadically.

Taken aback but still locked in on his mission, David couldn’t care less about any of these people out here, “Fuck off kid before you get hurt.”  His vicious growl seemed to stamp out the fiery angst building up in the teen as she turned and jogged away, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure David Dahmer was not following her.

Sasha pulled the heavy glass door open as she led David inside the Davindale Pharmacy.  He stood tall as the darkness followed him closely.  Jack Davindale was ready and waiting as Wendy finished filling a little old lady’s arthritis medication.  As Jack approached David, thoughts of curiosity entered David’s mind.  What did an eighty-year old’s intestines look like?  Was there much difference in appearance between an eighty-year old’s stomach when compared to a teenager’s stomach?  David made up his mind at that moment to do some hands-on research later on, curiosity killed.

Jack was smiling cordially as he met David and Sasha at the front of his store, “David, my dear boy, you look...different.  What’s the problem?  What can I do for you?”  Jack’s pulse raced with excitement as he peeked back over his shoulder and winked at his wife.  Wendy chuckled a bit while she handed the old woman her paper bag of pills.  This was the moment Jack was waiting for, old lady Jenkins had been a nuisance to the pharmacy for decades.  Today, her tyranny would come to an end.

Passing by David who was brooding with anger, Jack locked the door as old lady Jenkins approached, trying to exit so she could get home to her fourteen cats, “Excuse me, you all are being extremely rude.  Let me by, show some respect for your elders.”  That was all it took, one quick blurb from the old lady and Jack was able to turn David on, activate him like a machine to do his bidding.

Grabbing David’s shoulder, Jack whispered into his ear, “Now.”  That was it.  That was how all of this began.  The beast had been released from its cage and it was insatiable.  A one syllable word accompanied with a lack of medications was all that was needed to cause David Dahmer to commit his first killing.  David would soon find out the answers to his questions, you remember, the old versus young intestines' appearance and all that.

David struck eighty-six-year old Ms. Jenkins, twice widowed, over the head with a heavy closed fist.  The sound of vertebrate compressing and cracking rang out through the pharmacy.  Releasing a slight whimper, Ms. Jenkins fell to the ground, paralyzed from the powerful blow.  Jack looked up and into David’s eyes.  He handed him a folding pocketknife, open and shiny, sharp and clean.  No verbal instructions were needed.  It was bred into him; he knew what to do and he knew how to do it.

The white tiled floor soon flooded with crimson as David opened Ms. Jenkins’ abdomen, careful not to cut too deep and ruin the dissection.  Unable to move, unable to cope, Ms. Jenkins shrieked a hollow yell that fell on deaf ears.  No one would save her now, she was already dead, the fact that she was still breathing was merely a formality.  

Jack and Wendy stood proudly in front of the crouching David as he continued to shuffle through Ms. Jenkin’s body, like a child rummaging through his toy chest looking for the missing Lego block needed to complete his masterpiece.  At some point during this inquisitive search, Ms. Jenkins finally succumbed to her injuries and passed on to the other side.   

David looked up at his “friends” as he took a large bite from a steaming liver, “Needs a little pepper...you should try some.”

We are going to leave this scene for the integrity of this work with David holding out a warm freshly harvested liver to the only two people on this planet that he trusted.  The two people that had betrayed him.  The two people that had ghoulish plans for the new David.