Posted on March 5, 2014. Filed under: dissociative identity disorder, schizophrenia |

The next time I saw Sandy-Anne, I was standing over her frozen corpse with a scalpel in my hand.

I’d pulled her from the body freezer but, as was my wont, I’d gotten the wrong corpse.  I left her there, forever asleep, on the open body tray as I opened a few more doors, pulled a few more bodies and, finally, found her: Sophie Catherine Curtis.  Frozen.  Dead.  Cut up.  Stitched up.  The only victim the murderer didn’t get to spend time with.  Her being dead time, that is.

The scalpel, with its diaphanous razor-steel mind, twizzled just once between finger and thumb, then led out over and across the corpse, advancing upward toward her face.  Upward, upward…

“You’re alibi worked out,” murmured Handsome.

I froze as solid as Sophie Catherine Curtis.

“So you’re not going to arrest me?”

Handsome slowly drew his eyes from the extended scalpel,

“D’you think I should?”

The scalpel demurred, relaxed, and came to rest by my side.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He stood away from me, perhaps worried that I might… scalpel him.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, too quietly.

Reawakening, the blade turned, just once, within my palm then deliberately reared and trailed its previous path, reaching up toward Sophie’s ears.  I looked as if I was about to hug her but I, instead, re-sheeted her face, grabbed the lead end of the body tray either side of her head, and pulled it toward me and past me back into the freezer,

“I was putting her to sleep.”

“To sleep?”

“Away.  Putting her away…”

I paused.  Handsome and I regarded one another for a moment.

“Need help with the others?”


He indicated the open doors of the freezer.  Open doors with extended trays.  Extended trays with grim reminders.  Grim reminders that we’re dead, dead, dead in the end.  Dead good.  Dead bad.  Dead all the same.  All the same, dead.

“Oh.”  I grasped the nearest tray, drew a breath – I’d stopped breathing – and began to shove the bodies home.  Home.  Like there’d ever be such a place for the dead.

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