Fiction: His Final Fulfilment (0.3)

There was no reason for this. She had never neglected him or abused him. He just loathed every element of her being. As a child, naïve to the global view of motherhood he never intended to reveal his negativity towards his only parent.

To Arthur, it was an addition to his collection. His collages of twisted beliefs pasted in layers as they pour from his head and fall from his tongue. The puddle of blood- another piece of his revulsion.

The hollow carcass laid mangled on the stained carpet. Dark beauty transformed into a shell of emptiness. A mind lost with resolutions for the disposal of his beautiful disaster. He sat on his bed with complete content and questioned where and when would be best to rid his house of his former wife. Arthur was fortunate enough to have lived in the isolated cottages that reside next to Salisbury’s pig farms (which would prove to be more useful than he initially anticipated).

He had multiple plans. Simply digging a hole in the centre of one of the fields seemed ideal; yet he had to remind himself of his ageing body. His eyes searched for the clock that hung silently on the wall. Arthur despised the constant and unnecessary ticking. It was getting closer to four; the birds would begin to sing among the section of humanity who were early-risers.

His cool demeanour began to wear off as panic gradually grew.

He had never felt that before.

Arthur recognised that he was over-thinking. Through his spurious relationship with Kylie, he did not gain a shred of care for her well-being. Therefore, why should he have such care in how to dispense of the corpse?

Pulling himself up from the bed, he crept towards the door. As he stepped over the body, the dressing gown she wore was wrapped over his foot causing him to fall. He hit his head before he caught himself. Arthur sat, back against wall, vision wavy, body failing. His shaking hand crawled up his cheek. His broken flesh exposed a cracked skull beneath blood that bubbled from his wound.

He refused to die. It was not his time. The kill was not enough.

Arthur’s determination to eliminate all existence of the body was his priority. Then he would die himself. With a moment to breathe, regain his eyesight and claim back his ability to walk, he would proceed to dispose of her.

He had come to a decision. He wanted to breathe in the odour of her cold flesh. He wanted to taste the drying fluid from her veins.

It was his only true achievement and he had so little time to appreciate it.

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