Virtuoso

 

And now my hands are covered in blood.

To start a story like that would be engaging to the reader; it would give you the credence to have the true beginning of the story be a little slower. If the reader believes that something crazy is going to happen in the story they are more willing to put up with a slow beginning. This narrative technique is known as in media res; and is used by many great authors.”

A student, Steven, raises his hand.

“Yes Steven?” I reply while trying to hide a sigh.

“Sooo can you use English please and not old-timey junk?” He snickered; so did the rest of the class. I hate this class.

“In media res means: “in the middle of things,” it’s when you start a story in the middle and go back to the beginning.” 

“You could’ve started with that, you know?”

I am feeling agitated; but I keep my calm. “Well I could’ve said that instead, but I believe that an elegant form improves the elegance of the content itself.” My agitation begins to slip out. “You know Steven; tonight I’m gonna fucking kill you.” The bell rings and no one reacts to the latter statement. The class is finally over; but my work is not.

I walk over to Steven and set things in motion. “I’ve been noticing that you’ve been falling behind recently, Steven.” 

“Hmm really? I’m doing pretty good on my assignments.” That’s true, but he used AI for them. “So how am I falling behind?” I have a strong urge to lash out at him for his laziness, but I hold back.

“Well, I’m just worried you’re not keeping up with your proper studies.”

“Well I am, teach.” Professor.

“But not your proper studies. I would like to ensure you are properly studying by teaching you the proper way to study.” I said, twisting my voice into a more sultry tone.

“Oh, what method is that?”

“Well it's a bit of a secret; not something I want to share with the other students. But, perhaps we could talk about it at your apartment later?”

“Well my roommate should be gone for the whole night after 7.” He blushes. I smile. I’ve got him. 

I believe introductions are in order. My name is Lilian Schmitt; I’m 31 years old. I work as an English professor at Acadian University, located in the city of Port Acadia in the north east of Maine. I believe that enriching your mind is the meaning of life, and that education is a desirable quality for any human being. To be educated is one of the most important aspects a proper person can have. Many may not consider me a proper person, but I believe I may be the most proper person. 

Right now I’m at my home on the west side of the city; a rich neighborhood. This home was gifted to me by my mother who is a rich tech mogul. My decision to focus on the literary arts instead of scientific knowledge at first upset my parents, but their love for me knows no bounds and they now fully support my path in life. They did try to get me to not teach at this university though; Acadian University is a small one with a weak English department. They recommended me to go teach in Orono, but I quite like the small size of this place; not too many eyes.

Of course the state of the department is a real pity. It’s in disarray, but I’ve come to heal it. Unfortunately my higher ups seem to think I should be teaching Gen Ed courses catering to engineers and finance majors. This is deeply infuriating to me. How I would truly love to teach a proper student body the beauty of literature, but I am stuck with weak minded and sub-sapient STEM majors. But then again; they do give me a lot of material. Such is the case with Steven.

I grab my purse and pack up what I need. My wallet, some cleaning wipes, a plastic raincoat, a camcorder, a textbook, and finally my special writing instrument for the night. And with everything packed: I leave and begin to head to Steven’s home.

I ring the doorbell and I can hear someone come running. I arrived at 7:01; right after his roommate left. He lives in an off campus apartment building which is a five minute drive from campus. He drives a yellow Tesla, most likely gifted to him by his parents. Before I came to the door I took my keys and poked a hole in one of the tires; just in case. 

He opens the door and he’s shirtless. He has a stupid look on his face. I pretend to be interested in his body but in reality I am quite disgusted.  He’s clearly taking steroids. 

“Hello, teach.” He says with bravado.

“Hello, Steven. Are you ready to study?” I don’t feel like wasting much time.

“Of course I am, Ms. Schmitt.” He smirks. He’s disgusting.

I walk past him into the apartment. It is tacky; filled with sports paraphernalia and things relating to stocks and crypto. There’s a couch in the center facing towards a tv with what I believe to be footage of the stock market on it. There is also another tv right below it playing football. It is a horrible display cooked up by someone with a very low attention span. 

“So Steven, I need to make some preparations; in the bathroom. If you could just wait on the couch for me while I prepare.” He nods his head and sits down. He is shaking a little; excited. I’m excited too. When he sits on the couch and turns his back to me, I take the camcorder out of my purse quietly and set it up on a nice spot on a shelf. This should give the camcorder a nice view.

I go into the bathroom and open my purse back up. First I pull out the folded up raincoat. It covers basically my whole body and provides protection from any kind of fluids. I put it on carefully; maximizing the area it covers up. Once that’s done: I pull out my tool, what I’m going to use to write tonight. 

It’s  a design inspired by a fiber wire used by contract killers, but I made an adjustment. You see; I’ve always thought that it would be interesting if I replaced the wire with thorns. I was inspired to this thought by the piece Crucifixion by the wonderful artist Titian. The second I saw the crown of thorns upon Christ’s head I came up with this idea. Unfortunately the original design didn’t work out. You see I was using actual thorns for that one and they weren’t sturdy enough; something I figured out when I tested it against a stray dog. When I tried to kill it the thorns broke and it nearly escaped. If it couldn’t kill a dog, it couldn’t kill a person; so I redesigned it. I got a blacksmith to create an iron copy of a thorn; so instead of using a normal thorn I am using metal made to resemble thorns. I pulled at it to give it a little test and it was working well. I smiled; it’s such a good feeling when you bring a wonderful idea to life.

I walk out of the bathroom. And begin approaching the couch. “By the way handsome,” I’d have to brush my teeth well tonight, “a part of this studying method requires you to close your eyes until I tell you to open them.” He seemed to comply, not thinking about it all, and I turned on the camcorder quietly. That stray was smarter than him.

The moment had come. I pulled apart the “thorn wire” and began to make my move. He realized something was wrong; but it was too late. I wrapped the thorns around his neck and pulled it towards me as hard as I could. Instantly I heard the ripping of flesh as the metallic thorns speared through his neck and began to claw into it. He screamed and began to shake. He desperately tried moving his arms behind himself to reach me but I just pulled even harder. Blood was running from his neck like a fountain.

He tried to scream some more but it didn’t matter. There’s so much blood in his mouth that all he could do was gargle and cough out his own vitae. I’m finally at peace. I pull even harder and close my eyes and let myself become immersed in the soundscape I’ve created. It’s a beautiful symphony. But suddenly an idea that would make it even better pops into my head.

This whole time I’ve just been pulling back, but what would happen if I started sawing with the wire? It’s utterly genius. I begin to pull each handle of the wire back and forth in a saw-like motion; causing the thorns to begin to rip apart his neck as it moves side to side according to my direction. I feel like someone coordinating a grand recital. He is in so much agony that he actually manages to get a scream out through all the blood pooling in his mouth. He begins grabbing at his own neck and tearing his own hands apart in an attempt to get the thorns off his neck. But it's utterly pointless; all he’s doing is making himself feel even worse. That’s fine by me though; I enjoy his pain. I drink his agony like a fine wine as I soothe him into a long slumber. But suddenly: a loud SNAP echoes throughout the room.

The wire snapped! It broke apart under the pressure. He was free from the wire; but I wasn’t going to let him get away. I ran towards him and pushed him off the couch and into a glass table. He crashed through it and shards of glass pierced his flesh. He tried crawling but it only resulted in shards getting stuck in his hands.

I walked towards him as he rolled over on his back in pain; screaming and vomiting a bit of blood as glass pierced his back as. He stared at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen. There was no anger; just confusion and sadness. He cried and reached his hand to me; it was the best he could do to tell me to stop. I just smiled at him.

I walked on top of him and dropped on his body. I reached my hands towards his head. “Thank you.” I put a hand on his blood covered chin. “An excellent student you were not; but an excellent material you certainly are.” I now grabbed both sides of his head with my hands. “Now you’ve become a part of me; you’ve become my art and my pleasure. So thank you.” I pressed my knee down to give me leverage as I began to pull his head off his body. It came off quite easily. 

And now my hands are covered in blood.

I returned home; satisfied with a job well done. Before I left Steven’s place: I had moved the headless body to the couch, and put his severed head in his lap. It was a nice scene, a good painting. I took off my raincoat and washed it off in the sink; using bleach to completely clean off the blood. Then I took a shower myself; it was refreshing.

Once I got dressed again I finished up for the night. I got the camcorder out of my purse and took out the SD card. I went to my desk and started up my computer, and used a device to upload the data to my computer, and took the footage and put it in my reference folder. Amanda, Jess, Maloney, Mark, John, Emily, and now Steven. I smiled, turned off the computer. And prepared for bed.

I know what you’re thinking, my reader. You think I’m a monster; you’d be right to think that. I am under no illusions that I am a good person; I am under no illusions that I am even a human being. I am nothing; I am an entity; a monster. If we were to meet in person: you could grip my hand and feel familiar flesh; but I’m not really there. I am a phantom; something illusory. I am an abstraction of a human being. But I feel bad for you, my reader. You’ll never be able to feel my pleasure. The acts I do bring me great pleasure; a pleasure you as a human being will never know of. My pleasure is one unknown to man and beast alike. But let me tell you: it is beautiful.