A regular guy, Bernie, who used to be Mr. Popular in high school, was in between jobs when he received a call from one of the places where he had applied. After a long search, he finally got the job he wanted.
“This job will be the perfect combination of duty and pleasure; it is all I need. Who wouldn’t want to make their hobby a source of income? Surely, I’ll be working out more often as I must be prepared for unexpected visitors, you never know who would be next. “
Since he was a kid, he had issues controlling himself; there was always an urge of doing stuff that would grant a lot of pointer fingers towards him. The only way he found to extinguish part of that captive energy was working out, so he was already in shape for this new job, but he thought:” I won’t allow disappointing myself, I’ll be more buff than ever.”
He was totally invested in his first day, which finally was on:
“Today is Friday, and I’m anxious, all my life I had been waiting for an opportunity like this, tonight is the night. No one would get hurt, and I’ll be in control, but I must be careful to prevent suspicion from my co-workers. It’s a good thing; no one will scream. Now, I’m ready to leave for work.”
He was wearing the uniform, inhaling the smell of new fabric deeply before leaving. Fifteen minutes later, he was talking to his workmates and the boss.
Just before midnight, he was left alone so that he could take charge of his shift. Apart from him, there was a guard outside that sometimes entered to go to the bathroom.
“Everyone treated me nicely. I’ll enjoy my time here. Let’s see who is next.”
He uncovered a corpse to check his identity, to see if he knew him, he didn’t. On Fridays, in the area, it was common to receive bodies of people who were murdered, most of them stabbed. This fact was known by Bernie and was the main reason why he was so excited about the job.
Preparing the corpses for autopsy was among his duties, this was the best part for him. However, to do what he was eager to do required some careful handling of the dead guy. First, he carried the body on his arms to avoid the wheeling noise of the wheeled bed, and put him over a table, out of sight of any bypasser. It was unlikely that someone would see him, as he was left alone inside the morgue, but prevention had kept him safe along his whole life. Afterward, he left something puffy to resemble the shape of a human body under the sheets. Then, he brought his utensils and placed them beside the body, put on a pair of gloves and covered his face with a welding mask but with clear lenses.
“Now it’s time! This is going to be super good.”
Bernie measured the wounds, compared the measurements against his “utensils,” selected the most appropriate ones, after that he studied the entry trajectory of each stabbing, took notes and turned on his mp3 player, playing work-out music. When he felt ready, his rite began.
With three different knives, Bernie replicated the wounds, emulating what might have been the movements of the attacker, he synchronized each stab with the beats of music. He had to be precise; the forensic doctor could notice in the morning if the wounds were fresher than the original ones. Luckily for him, the body was completely drained, so almost no blood came out of it. “Less mess to clean up,” he thought.
The dead guy had more than forty punctures. Bernie got into some kind of frenzy, any time he wasn’t sure when the beat pushed him to stab, he stabbed the air, but then synched again and knife and flesh reunited. For him, it was choreography, a piece of art. It was the best way to combine his murderous urges with dancing, avoiding to hurt an alive being.
Bernie had found a paradise without guilt.
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