The odor was even more intoxicating when we returned to his apartment. I wondered if it was affecting my judgment. Maybe the stench had manifested as a barrier that intercepted alert signals from my brain telling my legs to run. It kept my arms stiff by my side when I should have snatched up the phone and dialed 9-1-1 with hands not yet soiled by the dirt we would bury her body under.
“How’re we doing this?” he asked as I took each suitcase out of the other and lined them up in front of the bed.
“We’re gonna pack her body up in the big one,” I said.
“Can she even fit?”
“We’ll make her fit.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to chop off her arms and legs?” he said, measuring the width of the suitcase with his forearms.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. “Do you have a machete packed in your trunk? Because I don’t.”
He turned his back and sighed audibly.
“It’s extremely hard to dismember a human body,” I continued. “You’re cutting through bone, and you can’t do that with a regular old kitchen knife.”
He didn’t answer, only shook his head. Maybe he was finally starting to realize how deep into the sludge we were headed.
“Fine,” he said scratching the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, so I’ll follow your lead.”Continue reading “Accessory | Buried Series | Part 6”