Charlie Duncan woke up to the sound of rain hitting his window. Normally he found the sound quite pleasant but it had awoken him from a dream he would much rather have completed. Arising while throwing the covers to the side, Charlie sat up from his king size bed sleepily while making his way to the bathroom. It was dark in his room, as dark as it had been when he went to bed- ten last night.
The bathroom light guided his way safely there so that he could relieve himself. One of life’s little pleasures for Charlie was the morning piss. A simple ritual, one that was a bodily function necessity, had become a way for Charlie to begin to mentally prepare for the day.
After urinating Charlie undressed and made his way into the shower. Charlie was one of those people who brushed his teeth while showering. He was the only person save for an ex girlfriend who did such a thing. Everyone else deemed the habit weird. He saw it as killing two birds with one stone.
Fresh out of the shower, feeling clean with a mouth that’s minty fresh, Charlie dried himself off and then proceeded to dress for work. Charlie is in his mid-twenties and just like the majority of men his age he wore a suit to work. Not the conventional kind; the three piece suits his father and those before him wore. His generation were allowed to wear trousers with a button down and tie with pointed toe shoes.
Dressed and ready for work, Charlie left his Queens apartment heading for the downtown 7 train bound for Manhattan. Like every rider forced to use the 7 line, Charlie hated it. The train was overcrowded, took too long in between arriving trains causing delay after delay, and despite it having a simple route there always seemed to be trouble making its way to the final stop- Times Square.
The 7 arrived at Grand Central fifteen minutes later than it should have causing Charlie to miss his uptown 5 train at 59th street. Nevertheless, Charlie got to work around his desired arrival time. There was no clocking in procedure so he simply made his way to his desk. But not before making himself a cup of Colombian coffee, black with three sugars.
Charlie’s job was not exciting but it was all he could get given the market. Charlie knew the degrees he spent years in school earning would eventually come in handy. But for now the bills had to be paid. Charlie liked having a sense of normalcy so he did not mind it so much.
But Charlie was anything but normal…
After staring at his computer screen for three hours without a break Charlie rose from his chair, stretched, and then made his way to the office pantry where he made a second cup of coffee. Charlie’s eyes were beginning to grow heavy and itchy. He hated that. Two extra sugar packets were put into his coffee for an added jolt.
Charlie took his cup and made his way back to his desk. But something caused Charlie to stop in his tracks. A smell. A familiar smell, one that brought back memories hidden deep in his mind. It was the smell of sneaker rubber. But not just any sneaker- black high top Converse. The smell meant that the urges were back. The smell opened a door Charlie didn’t want open, a door he tried to hard avoiding. It was a door he had sealed shut with bolts and hinges made of adamantium and threw away the keys so he couldn’t make his way back there.
But all things find a way back to you. Charlie knew this but mentally preparing for it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t like a person could look in the mirror and say “look bitch, you’re gonna forget about all this nonsense so ya see this key? Say bye bye. Those locks are sealed. You’re not allowed to go back in there.”
It wasn’t that easy…was it?
Charlie was a relatively attractive man. He groomed himself with nice clothes and kept the hair on his head and face neatly trimmed. Charlie liked the look of the Army haircut with a beard. So that’s what he went with.
There was a woman in his department that kept giving him looks as though she wanted to devour him. He knew what that meant but for a long time he had been able to keep his mind off of it. Why now? He asks himself. Why are the urges resurfacing now?
Charlie took a seat at his desk and sipped his coffee while shaking his leg, trying to do anything but think of the urges. He resumed his work, made calls, participated in small talk with a few co-workers about their plans for the coming weekend. But his mind would not let up.
Charlie was not trained or couldveven begin to fathom how to fight these urges. They simply began and swelled up so strongly he had no choice but to act. It wasn’t right, however. He wanted to turn himself in. Maybe Stamford University could study his brain. He deserved to be poked at. These were not normal feelings. He would give anything to rid them from his life.
The urges ballooned so large his body got up from the chair and began walking, as if on its own. His pace seemed normal but it felt as if his coworkers were staring at him. They weren’t. There wasn’t a need. Charlie, to them, is harmless. He wanted so badly for that to be true…
“Patricia.” Charlie said, stopping in front of the cubical of the woman who had been giving him sex eyes since she began working here seven months ago.
“Hey Chuck. What’s up?” She said, looking him in the eye while wasting no time transmitting her sexual desire for him via the morse code sent with silent, visual contact.
“Oh, nothing really. Its just- well, I haven’t been out for drinks in awhile and I’d really appreciate the company of a woman.”
“Need to feel like an adult for once?”
“Something like that. Whattaya say?” I smiled and it was all I needed.
“Sure. You’ve got my number right?”
“Yup. Should I pick you up at eight?”
“Eight is perfect.”
“Great. I’ll text you when I’m leaving for your address.”
Before Patricia could respond I backed away from her cubical. The rush of all the thoughts that instantly flooded Charlie’s conscious made him too giddy, almosy with a childish fever of knowing s gift giving event were upon him. So he headed for the bathroom to take a breather. What I’m going to do tonight is morally wrong, Charlie tells himself.
But the urge was too great to fight against no matter how much Charlie wanted to. He was its slave and couldn’t wait to obey its command…
Charlie owned a late model 2010 Nissan Maxima that he used for every reason but going to work. The office was in Manhattan- parking there is a nightmare and far too pricey.
He picked up Patricia a quarter to eight. She had on tight jeans and a loose fitting top with high heels. Best of all- minimum amount of make up. She chatted Charlie up a storm on the way to the bar in Astoria and in a quaint booth in the back. He learned that she wasn’t from New York but in fact came here to finish college at NYU, which she did two years ago earning a Masters in Economics. She was an only child and had seven boyfriends in her life but fifteen sexual partners. From the way she was rubbing his arm Charlie could tell she wanted him to be number sixteen.
One drink became two. Then three. After the tenth drink Patricia was stumbling her way to and from the bathroom. Charlie could hold his liquor. Patricia wasn’t completely inebriated; she was fully capable of teasing Charlie which he liked. But the teasing soon became intense kissing which turned into fondling all the way back to Charlie’s apartment in a cab. Lucky for him they were still in Queens. Well, lucky for Charlie at least.
Back at Charlie’s apartment Patricia began to show signs of the liquor wearing off. Declining his offer for more she took to the bathroom returning twenty minutes later almost completely sober.
“I hate fucking while intoxicated.” She said.
“We’re fucking tonight?” Charlie said.
“Very cute. Dont act as though you weren’t trying to get my pants off in the cab, you naughty boy.”
Patricia walked over to Charlie’s stereo. “How do you turn this on?” With the push of a button from a remote sitting on the table to his right, Charlie turned it on. “You need the radio on for sex?”
She turned to him. “I’m a screamer. I don’t want your neighbors to think you were killing me.”
Charlie got up and walked over to Patricia. He took her in his arms and they slow danced to a song that wasn’t slow. He kissed her again. Her mouth invited his. His hands caressed her behind. Moans escaped her throat. She took him by the hand and lead him to his room like she had already known where it was.
Charlie pushed her onto the bed. “Not so rough.” She said. At this point Charlie completely tuned her out. He climbed on his bed with Patricia between his knees then slowly lowered himself to her lips. With one hand he cupped her breast. With the other he began undressing her. She undressed him as she pistoned her body upwards to make taking her jeans off easier.
With both their clothes now a pile on the floor Charlie sunk down onto her. He nibbled her earlobes while palming a breast. She massaged his penis until its head throbbed in her hand.
“You’ve got condoms right?” She asked.
He got off her and made his way to a dresser behind him where he revealed a condom. A lustful smile spread across her face as Charlie got back on top of her whilst slipping it on.
As he was inserting his penis inside her he grabbed her throat and then thrusted deeper inside of her. Through choked words Patricia said “not so damn rough Chuck” but Charlie couldn’t hear her. The urges had made him go deaf to cries and blind to worry. Worry is what fillled Patricia’s eyes as he grasped harder while thrusting with more force. Patricia tried to fight but he outweighed her by a hundred and twenty pounds.
After a short time Patricia stopped moving and then became completely flaccid. Charlie came without noticing. He took a deep breath, got off of her, and then layed at her side. He picked up her arm and watched it fall. He did it again. This time it was accompanied by a chuckle. The chuckle trickled into rolling laughter.
Still laughing, Charlie climbed off his bed and made his way to the closet where he took a bag down from the top shelf. Charlie threw the bag onto the bed and then opened, it revealing several knives. With all the knives layed out in front of him he fingered each while eyeing Patricia’s lifeless body, finally picking one up- a butcher knife.
Charlie picked up the butcher knife and took it to the bathroom. He then returned to the bed where he picked up and carried Patricia to the bathtub. With the butcher knife in hand Charlie brought it down on Patricia’s dangling right arm, cutting it off. Blood sprayed everywhere. Charlie hardly noticed as he proceeded to dismember Patricia.
With all the necessary parts now removed, Charlie made his way back into the bedroom room to grab his hunting knife. Charlie found that it worked best for two of his rituals: skinning, and performing autopsies.
Charlie first cut open Patricia’s torso to remove the major organs. Charlie kept a little cooler under the bathroom sink- this is where he place the organs. They had to be fresh for future use. Then, Charlie skinned each body part.
When he was through, Charlie cleaned up the bathroom and then himself with a long, hot shower. Taking the cooler downstairs, he placed all but the lungs into the freezer. He took the lungs and prepared them as if it were a chicken dinner. Forty five minutes later Charlie sat down at his table with the freshly prepared meal in front of him.
This was Charlie’s ritual. It began at an age he cannot pinpoint. He knows he must rape because his mother was raped and had fell ill mentally. And when she was well enough to see him abd tge coyrts said it was okay, she touched Charlie inappropriately. Afterwards the state made him stay with his aunt and uncle upstate until he was eighteen. That is where Charlie learned to skin pigs because his uncle worked on a farm and wanted to instill structure in Charlie. Human skin tasted like pig to Charlie. He discovered this the first time he killed a man- the man who raped his mother. He then dismembered him because that’s how mob bosses wanted their enemies to disappear. Eating them meant less clean-up while the taste for flesh watered his mouth. He hungered for him in a way a man wants food when he is hungry.
Charlie didn’t know this was bad until he entered college and attempted to research what and who he was. Now its too late. When hit with the urges there is no stopping it. Unless he was put down like a dog. That is the only way he sees this ending, and Charlie is prepared for this.