Chapter 8

Still stark naked and not looking to cover herself any time soon, Sasha stood in the middle of David’s living room, hands on her hips, as the bloody skeleton of Ms. Jenkins rested stoically on the couch David had purchased at the local thrift store.  Poor guy, he had to carry that couch all by himself eight blocks, everyone was too scared to offer help, not to mention end up inside of his apartment where they thought all sorts of mischievous actions took place.

The burning of the chewed-up pills in David’s throat was extinguishing itself as he stared at a naked Sasha.  He was not accustomed to nudity, especially female nudity.  As a teenage boy would do, David pretended to not want to look but he simply just couldn’t stop from taking in the deliciousness of her smooth, curvy body.  For a woman that went around causing trouble as a hobby, Sasha had an amazing body, almost too amazing.  

Erotic and all, there was still a terrifying disfigured body lying on the couch next to David, he would soon find the skin that belonged on the skeleton hanging up in his kitchen, a very personalized suit some would say.  I know for a fact that you will not believe me, but David was able to get Ms. Jenkins’ skin detached from her body in one entire piece.  If this were a normal human action, David would be the Guinness world record holder.

Sasha was ready to get this show on the road, move onto the next plan of action, “Davey boy, we need to leave, we need to go see Jack and Wendy.  Are you prepared to confess and see what God has in plan for you?”  She approached the door, the hardwood door that led to the outside world, and prepared to let herself out as she ushered David with a wide arm.  David immediately noticed the problem; they wouldn’t make it ten feet without being stopped by someone.

With an awkward quiver in his voice, David attempted to address the issue, “Sasha, it might be a touch cold outside.  You may want to cover up, you know?”  Diverting his eyes, David would rather stare at the red ball of Ms. Jenkins then awkwardly soak in the beauty that was Sasha.  

In the most fleeting of moments, Sasha disappeared from view and reappeared fully clothed and ready to roll, “Let’s go, Davey.  We have to figure this out, this is basically urgent.  Now, since you called me out for being in my birthday suit, how about you ditch the bed sheet and get yourself together.  We don’t need any extra attention on us, we have a dead body right here.”

Acknowledging the factual evidence Sasha had provided, David took himself down the hall and dressed himself in fresh clothes, jeans and a t-shirt.  It wasn’t until he was approaching the front door with the impatiently waiting Sasha guarding it that David noticed the huge piece of skin hanging from the fluorescent light in the kitchen.  The linoleum was covered with small, splattered spots of blood underneath the slowly fluttering sheet of human skin, “What the fuck…” 

David looked to his unwanted partner as befuddled as he had ever been, waiting for some sort of explanation.  Sasha smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “you said you wanted to try out an idea you had.  Seems like you did pretty damn good.  Let’s go.”  Sasha looked through the bar cutout that led to the kitchen and nodded with a certain fulfillment that only an absolute psychopath could contain.  

A long fillet knife rested on the counter, black handle with a rust spotted shiny blade.  That had been the tool used to carefully remove the skin from old Ms. Jenkins.  It worked well on the fish David had caught when he picked up the hobby a decade ago, but you would be amazed at how well it worked on the human body.  Like a teenage boys’ fingers through the pants of the head cheerleader of the school, that easy. 

Not feeling the emotions that a normal person would feel, David stopped staring at the flesh blanket airing out in his kitchen and went to Sasha, still picturing her nude and luscious, “Jack and Wendy, let’s go to them, I'm ready.”  With a content smirk, Sasha agreed and opened the door to an ear-piercing shriek.  The two exited the apartment containing the body of David’s first victim, but certainly not his last, not by a long shot.

The trip to the pharmacy, the Davindale Pharmacy, seemed to pass by faster than ever before.  Obviously, it was the same distance away, but the urgency instilled inside of David motivated his expeditious movements.  Deep inside of his changing brain, the light for normality still flickered.  If Jack and Wendy could possibly increase the dosage of the medications or reverse whatever had caused this uncharacteristic outburst of violence, things would be alright.

The sidewalk was busier than normal for eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.  The human seas parted though, as David and Sasha rushed to the pharmacy in need of an immense amount of help.  One child was brave enough to not move from David Dahmer’s path.  He was so tunnel visioned that the small child was merely a speed bump on the path to sanity.  The child’s arm was stepped on so hard that it twisted and popped in a manner that yelled out ‘Pediatric Surgery!’.

A large, burly woman lunged from the crowd, “That is my child, Dahmer!  You just injured my child you monster!  You are no different than your brother!”

Just as David turned around to react to the manly woman’s harsh words, the woman that was more concerned with yelling and cursing at David than her screaming, crying child lying on the sidewalk with an arm that flailed about during the frantic child’s terror, someone grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards.  The heavy, glass door slammed shut and clicked into a safe locked position.  David turned to see Jack Davindale standing behind him.

Wendy rushed to the door, hearing the screaming and crying, and looked out.  She was nosey and any sort of drama instantly drew her attention.  Jack, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with anything that didn’t directly affect his life, “Dave, you gotta be more careful buddy.  Well, you probably earned me a new customer at least.  What’s happening, are you alright?”  Jack adjusted his brown thick glasses, securing them deeper on the fat bridge of his nose.

Sasha roamed around, even going behind the medical counter looking for something, probably oxys.  Wendy clutched her mouth with a frail hand as she hemmed and hawed at the sight of the poor little boy with the broken arm or torn ligament, whatever it may be.  She didn’t want to see horrible things, but there was no way she would peel herself away from the window, basking in the glory of the horror and drama.  She couldn’t get enough.  This was her cocaine, her crack.

The treacherous Jack Davindale didn’t wait for an answer from poor David.  He proceeded back to his workstation while David stood, brooding in the middle of his store behind the locked glass door.  Wendy followed shortly after, as soon as the harmed little boy was out of sight.  The telephone rang out, Wendy grabbed it hoping to spread the news of the injured boy and increase her social popularity.  It was just a customer calling, no fun there.

Jack Davindale stood tall and proud behind the pharmacy counter, carefully inventorying a pile of orange flat pills as Wendy served a customer via telephone. The two of them looked up from their individual tasks as soon as David approached them after snapping out of his walking coma.  Jack mumbled, “Close enough,” as he moved the mountain of pills into a guidance slot, topping up the prescription bottle they were destined to inhabit.

The three of them huddled close by, waiting for David to murmur something that they could work with.  In their heads, Jack and Wendy, they had made lists of people they would like to see murdered in the most gruesome ways possible.  Once David broke the silence, they knew it was time to motivate him with evil intent.  There was not a single ounce of shame in either of their bodies.  They just wanted to wreak havoc on the city that had allowed them to live out their lives there.

The top of Jack Davindale’s list, Sheriff Peter Miller.  It was time to get revenge on that ticket-writing, investigatory man.  

“Thank you for that Jack.  I don’t know what got into me,” David said as he fought the darkness that had built a nest deep inside his brain.  David was clueless, vulnerable, but he had come here under the illusion of false hope.  

Murder was on the menu, that would fix all of his problems, at least, that is what Jack Davindale intended to sell to him.