Rose Garden

“Ang aking luha ang didilig sa rosas. Sa kanyang tinik dadamhin ko ang kirot, at ang pulang halik ng kanyang talulot (My tears will water the roses. In its thorns I will caress the pain and the red kiss of its petals).” –Dong Abay

The time has come to end everything. I am in my car, parked in front of her house. There are lights inside, but her dark curtains made it impossible for me, and I guess everyone, to get a glimpse of what’s happening inside. I threw the cigarette I was smoking out towards the car window, with traces of its smoke still lingering on my sight. I have everything I need with me: the ropes, the hammer for her head, the shears, the razor for her throat, the glistening silver knife for her heart and the flames of desire to eliminate her. I never knew that I would feel such excitement. I should have done this a long time ago, but I didn’t believe the demon soon enough.

Yes, I have met my demon. But he is not evil. I call him “The Stranger”. He appeared to me on the darkest hours of my life. I was crying, pathetic, alone and suicidal when he came to me through the mirror. And right then, the Stranger changed my life. He is real—how can I deny such thing when I can perceive him through sensual perception? He speaks to me, and I to him, and I see him. And our bond is more than the bond of any other bonds existing. He understands me, and he is the only entity there that fully cared for me.

But when I met him, the darkness of my life was on its apex, and bit by bit, he helped me repair it. And tonight’s act will finish the darkness. Tonight’s act will prove my superiority over all emotional distress. Peace will be restored on my confused mind. The light will enlighten the darkness of my soul, and I shall live with an eternal smile! My eyes will widen once more with the spirit of happiness!

I held a mirror in my hand. I looked at it and I saw the Stranger staring back at me. “I thank you for telling me the right thing, for making me realize the right thing, and how to live in eternal happiness.” I told him.

“I am happy when you’re happy.” It said. I grinned.

“You’re the only thing that understands me.” I replied.

I took out the silver knife and marveled at its sharpness. This knife will be stained by her blood. Tonight, this knife will erase all the unhappy memories. Tonight, blood will be the start of my self-purification. She should be thankful; I am going to do it as quick as possible. I will expect screams to come, but no matter; how deafening they may sound, it will not distract me. Nothing will distract me! Nothing will make me go astray again! Not even her beauty, or her eyes— nothing! She will never lure me towards the emptiness again! She has done it before but no longer! My soul endeavors to see her bleed, to see her cry and to see her die! That is my ultimate pleasure, and the Stranger was responsible for making me realize all that. I thank the heavens for letting him touch my life!

I stepped out of my car and deeply breathed, deeply inhaling the frigid air lingering in the moist night, and feeling it entering my nostrils. I gazed my sight upward and saw the blinking stars as well as the lucid moon hovering on the darkness of the void of the sky like bloodshot eyes. They will be the only witnesses to this act—my act to regain my happiness! I took the necessary tools out and carried it with me. One step forward was the start. I heard the footsteps of success clanking on the asphalt, and as I continue my steps, I have imagined the things that will happen, and I gave myself a wide smile as I realized that those imaginary happenings will soon be reality.

I smell the climax of her life, ending on my hands! What pleasure! What pleasure!

I faced the front door. Should I knock? Ah, yes I should! So I did. There were faint noises inside. Then those faint noises changed to the sound of footsteps going louder and louder. I felt myself shaking with excitement! I heard the doorknob twitch. The door swung open, and with great force, I pushed it open and I saw her ghostly silhouette fall on the floor. I closed the door behind me and stared upon her with lust painted on my eyes. I can see the fear in her eyes! “Erik, what are you doing here?” she asked, her voice was shaking, as well as her body. Then she slowly stood up, still shaking. I am still staring at her, controlling my great desire. The Stranger told me to control it because “great desire can be so destructive. Just concentrate on killing her.” He said. But I have waited long for this! I have dreamed of this event on countless nights! I will do what I want for I’ve got her cornered!

She went close to me. Her visage—I admit—is still angelic. “Erik, I’m sorry. We loved each other once…please stop.” She whispered. I paid no heed to her beauty or her words. I slapped her face hard, the sound was cracking, and she fell to the floor once more. I struggled to lay her flat on the floor and she’s trying to fight me! You have no chance my dear! No chance at all! I am the superior being! I sat on her legs and put my feet on her arms so she would not move. She is screaming, and how deafening those screams are! They are echoing towards my mind, but it must not distract me! No, not anymore!

I took the shears out and started cutting her clothes. I started cutting the shirt she was wearing; making sure that she feels the coldness of the shears. When it was done, her porcelain skin glowed in my sight like bitter, tragic memories. Then slowly, I sliced her bra, and out come her breast. I rubbed the shears to her nipples and she screamed loudly, and I was laughing hard! I admire to see her scream in fear!

But my pleasure hungers for more, so I started cutting through her shorts. I did it slowly, for I forgot the sense of doing it quickly. Slowly fulfilling the hunger inside! When I finished cutting, I admired the skin on her legs. Then up went my hand towards her vagina. She is still screaming, not out of pleasure, but of terror as I inserted a finger to it. I laughed loud again! This is one special night: I learned to laugh and smile again, ever since she took those away from me!

I took out the ropes and started binding her arms and legs. When it was all tightly bound, I grabbed her black hair and dragged her towards a chair, before carrying her to sit her frail, foul, naked body towards the chair. Her eyes are covered with tears. Dirt has infiltrated her face, housing on the tear-paths created by her tears. Her voice was shaking with terror when she told me: “I’m sorry…”

“It is already too late for apologies, my dear Katrina. And apparently, you’re not really sorry for what you did.” I replied.

I took out the hammer from my bag. Tonight, this hammer will serve out its true purpose: bludgeoning. I stepped near her as she screamed in terror.

“Be quiet…be quiet…Erik is here to end it all.” I put a palm on her shaking lips. “Nobody will even hear you.”

I raised the hammer, I felt the apex of my hand, and then slammed it on the right side of her face. I saw the impact of metal on flesh, and it was joy. I gave her face another whip from the hammer. I heard the sound of flesh, blood and bone rubbing against each other; their sound an addictive friction. Blood sprayed like wondrous raindrops. She is now crying harder than ever, and it was exhilarating. To hear her screaming in terror and pain is very addictive. Half of her face now lies disfigured. Her beauty does no longer exist! I have destroyed it!

Her screams became silent moans. Her silent breathing became gasping for life. She is nearing her death!

I carried her body off of the chair and laid it down on the linoleum floor. Blood is dripping from her face. And as she lay bleeding and breathing heavily on the floor, I crawled my hand towards her chest and felt her heart: its still beating. I took out the silver knife from my bag, and let its blade crawl from her toes to her chest, making sure she feels the coldness of its blade. She moaned slowly as I did it. I then stared at her eyes: one disfigured and one blotched with tears. I pointed the knife to her heart. She felt it, I know, and for sure she has concluded that her life ends there. “I loved you, Katrina.” I whispered then I struck the knife to her chest like a needle. Her normal eye widened with shock. Then blood came running out of her eyes, ears, mouth and nose. And then, I felt she stopped breathing. She is dead!

I felt joy rushing through my veins for they have entered my heart. I am successful. Euphoria arrived through my head like a blessing from the heavens. I saw the angels blowing their trumpets, congratulating me for conquering the darkness. I was a blank slate, but no longer! I have killed her and am now enlightened!

I stared at her lifeless, naked body. Lust became a flame inside my soul. Success, of course, has its own incentives. I pulled the knife from her chest, and blood sprayed all over my face and my clothes. It was cleansing…it was purifying!

I started kissing her toes, and then up towards her thighs, then to her legs, until I reached her cunt. Then up again towards her navel, licking some of the blood that got there. I reached her breasts and started touching them, and licking them, then I continued up towards her disfigured face. Her lips weren’t that damaged. I started kissing her blood glazed lips, and then her face, feeling the warmth of blood littered there.

So I went on making love with the dead body of Katrina. And as I pumped on, in glamour and pleasure, the memories started flashing back, those broken shards of happenings. Our love, our kisses, and our dream of having a rose garden in our home. I reached my climax, and then it was over.

I felt anew; like I was born again. The angels are still glittering around me, singing songs wonderful to my ears, and my smile seemed endless; my joy like quenched thirst; my life in sweetness. I, then, took out my butcher’s knife, and started chopping her legs into two parts, feeling the addictive sound of metal on skin, flesh and bone playing like some classical music. I did the same with her arms. Finally, I chopped her head off. I put those chopped body parts on a separate bag, and then carried it towards my car and put them on the trunk compartment. Then, I drove home. I have prepared the rose seedlings. I have dug the earth. I will have the rose garden me and Katrina dreamt before.

I have killed Katrina! My joy is none like any other! This is what I wanted! My soul lies at peace. My heart is in trance again. I will now sleep peacefully.

When I reached my house, the world was quiet. The night hovered in shadows of peace and silence. I carried the bag containing Katrina’s body parts towards my yard while my shoes crunch towards the grassy ground. And then on the spot where I dug the soil, I laid each body part of Katrina. Before I threw her head, I gave her dead lips one last kiss. I covered the hole with soil, covering Katrina’s flesh, before planting the rose seedlings. There are plenty. And beauty will soon arise on this spot. It is finished. It is done flawlessly. Now there’s only one thing left to do: thank the Stranger.

I went inside my house and looked at the gilded mirror where I and the Stranger made our first contact. To my surprise, however, when I focused my sight towards the mirror, I only saw myself. The mirror must be playing tricks! Every time I look at the mirror, I always see the Stranger, not my own self. I have never seen my reflection before! Where is the Stranger? How come he deserted me now that he has affected my life the most? “Where are you?!” I cried on the mirror, but I only saw the emptiness of my reflection staring towards the veil of eternity.

Why has the stranger deserted me? Now all joy I felt moments ago seemed meaningless. He understands me, and the only one who cared for me—but wait--is this light in the shade of shadows? Please, tell me it is not so! Please, tell me it is not true! Please, tell me it is just me guessing and expecting things! Please don’t tell me that the Stranger loves and understands me because I am he? No, I am not the Stranger! I saw what he is through the mirror and is it what I really am? If I am the Stranger, then nobody told me to kill Katrina and I acted on my own wantness! But I didn’t want to kill Katrina if the Stranger didn’t compel me to do so. But if I am he, then I compelled myself?

I stared at myself in the mirror. Emptiness is my reflection staring on the abyss. I smashed the mirror using my fist, realizing that sanity is my crumbled hope. I felt tears rushing from my eyes. Tears of joy, I guess! I went outside and crawled on the soil, towards the place where I have buried Katrina’s flesh. And then it started to rain. I felt its icy droplets kissing my face. The rose is my symbol of joy, of eternal happiness. On its petals I feel warmth. On its thorns I find pleasure.

The rose garden will bloom out soon from the decaying flesh and blood of Katrina. May her soul, if has one, rest with the angels, and may I live happily, having done what I truly desired.

“Death is a great price to pay for a red-rose.” –Oscar Wilde