TBK: The Butterfly Killer Read online

  The laundry room’s a haven of wickedness, bleach, caustic soda, rubber gloves, all the things I was going to require to create a masterpiece. As artist gathers her pigments and brushes, I gathered my arsenal of enjoyment, my compensation of reprisal. “Could you not blow torch his face off Elizabeth?” “Get him hard, bite it off Elspeth dear.” Ubel’s idea arouses the devil within; Lance had a vast collection of pharmaceuticals all designed to induce pain or pleasure as its master, karma soon to make one be used upon him.

  How the tides of change were rising fast as I peruse his emporium of chemical seduction. Adrenaline, GHB, every known amphetamine, and the liquid gold I searched for. Sitting upon top shelf of the chrome and mirror fronted cabinet, stood six virgin phials of Alprostadil. A powerful vasodilatory drug used to induce labour and abortions. A wonderment of modern biochemistry with a spectacular side effect, the treatment of severe erectile dysfunction. Lance may not feel aroused by traditional stimulation, but he was going to salute very shortly, regardless of his inhibitions.

  -1-

  The only access to lance’s private little hell was via the small concealed lift, located behind bookcase of library. Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath I take, before stepping inside, pressing the single black button. Steel doors close as my descent into Lance’s abyss begins. Still motionless he hanged as I kicked open the steel door from small hall into hell, its squeaky hinges announcing my arrival, followed by the hollow steel sound as it echoed out from the door hitting the brick wall behind. This time Lance was much more subservient, much more apologetic. It would appear the last few hours had given him a touch of clarity. A frightened little boy was how he tried to portray himself, but my eyes only saw the monster who raped and killed my Laura. Like serpent he tried to weave his evil tongue, attempting to exonerate himself. Clutching at non-existent emotional heart strings, his ignorance to my new persona very soon to be expunged.

  “I’m as much a victim as you Elizabeth darling.”

  “Shhh…. Be still my little one.”

  A solitary finger across naked torso I drag, seductively licking, tasting his fear. Slowly tip of my tongue serpent’s its way from navel to nipple, sucking in both areola and tip, teasing with teeth beneath sinister brow and smiling eyes. A quick snap of jaw I bit it off, swallowing his flesh, licking his blood from velvet lips as if it were a delicate sweet preserve. His cry of pain my elation, the starting gun to my odyssey of revenge.

  “Please Elizabeth, I ad to, if Ray found out!”

  “Give me the names of all the men that violated Laura.”

  “Christ I don’t know who they are, Mike the big dude, he knows.”

  “Then there’s no reason to continue this conversation.”

  “Maybe we should gag him Elizabeth?”

  “No Elspeth, I wanna hear his pain.”

  Ubel and I were in agreement; his screams would become the soundtrack to his torture, a masterpiece of orchestral greatness. My trolley of reprisal rattles and jumps as I push it before him, timid eyes flick from greater to fork as he attempts to piece together his fate. Fear and terror grow within as the two naughty lovers introduce themselves to his conscious my grin grows as he feels terror start to wrap her cold, painful wings around him. Our naughty orgy of torturous intent could now begin.

  Corner of room was home to large janitors floor brush, gathering it up I slowly sweep the dirt and detritus from beneath dear rapist friend, I need him to see his own defecation and dismemberment, no more shall he mingle with my beautiful Laura. The black rubber snaps down hard against the skin of my arm, as I pull the cold rubberiness of glove over willing hand. Lance’s eyes flicker from east to west as he tries to comprehend my intentions, trying to anticipate where the pain will commence.

  “Ubel, if you please.” My conversation now audible for all to hear, clearing his throat Ubel then begins a beautiful recital of Beethoven’s sombre, yet harrowing piano concerto, Für Elise. The first few solitary piano keys dance slowly and seductively through the air. A benevolent and wondrous tingling shivers its way down my spine, transporting me to a realm of pure sadistic satisfaction. The delicate notes tip-toe their way through my mind, painting vibrant colours of Matisse, as the imaginary piano keys fall under finger. Serpent like weaving my body, slowly and delicately moving in time and tempo, never breaking eyes contact with prey.

  His smell, horror and anticipation now an elegant perfume to me. Each note revealing itself as a body part, dancing to a most beautiful sound in my mind. Ubel’s rendition turns into a full, rich piano extravaganza; I can hear only the wondrous notes flowing abound. With each peak or tempo change, I release another delicate slash across torso, the small blade of paring knife cutting effortlessly through skin and muscle alike. Lance’s screams sound like a million voices crying out in adoration to the beautiful music.

  Blinking light of orange signifies the next act is ready to commence, as iron reaches temperature. Iron now ready to take stage for its solo performance, only now awaiting the needle to dance its little dance. The sharp point of needle punctures through the grey rubber stop of the Alprostadil phial, sucking hard at the liquid inside, 5 millilitres tumble into a crisp, clean plastic viper. Taking him in hand, needle sliding effortlessly into base. Pressing down slowly upon the plunger the plastic viper spits its potent venom deep, his attention only now a matter of time. Arousing him for a while until the medication kicks in, causing him to grow, his pleas for me to stop growing almost as quickly.

  The harder he gets, the faster his masculine defences fall, the sooner he becomes a scared little boy. Down I squat to entertain him, flicking my tongue over and around. Bigger he grows, as I slide him down, then with a single swift snap of jaw, biting down hard, before I begin to chew my way through. His cries of pain only encourage me further; all I hear is the silence of pain from my Laura as another rapist violates her with alien intent.

  Ubel ups the intensity and volume to his symphony for the damned. Blood gushes from wound as appendage falls free, lingering as the iron-rich taste saturates my senses, comforting my soul. The now burning hot iron in hand, I cauterise with irons tip. It takes a few moments to stem the bleeding, the smell of burning flesh fills the air with its distinctive, haunting, appetising flavour. His screams of agony only proving to arouse my demon’s further. A river of blood slides effortlessly down my throat from his severed member still filling my mouth, spitting his now limp flaccid man-hate to the floor as happiness and hostility form a coalition of senses. Licking my way up leg and chest to kiss the beast upon mouth once more, all while iron comforts ground zero below.

  The first piece of the Lance puzzle laying there for him to see. As iron pulls away, my eyes lock upon his, burnt flesh tears away with irons tip, sticking to the hot plate, forcing me to repeat my sadistic triage three more times, till he bleeds no more. Hanging limply, his androgynous transformation beginning to shine through, no longer the ability to hurt with his hateful little appendage, no longer male, never a man. Pushing hard upon irons plate against sole of foot, his discomfort and agony echoing out, crashing from wall to ear. His time has come, I sense he’s ready to feel the pain of intrusion, of penetrating agony. Twisting off top of bleach, I pour it liberally down his back, then upon fist shaped glove.

  “Please Elizabeth, don’t do this, PLEASE!”

  His screams of clemency, falling upon ears of stone. Spinning him around I lower myself into position, assertively force my duck-billed fist deep within, pushing harder, going deeper. Lance writhes in pain as his screams merge with Ubel’s beautiful rendition, organs making way for fist as piano keys fall under fictitious finger. Pushing my loathing as deep as I can, grabbing whatsoever I can, my legs lift as gravity assists. To the floor, I drop escorted by a most horrific, gut-wrenching screech, from wall to ear his misery runs, as his rectum then intestines prolapse.

  Wiping faeces and blood from gloved fist across chest with as much hate as happiness I attend his wound, with cleansing shower of bleach I was
h him, dusted with layer of caustic soda to prevent any bug. The excitement seems all too much for Lance; his head drops as this first round knockout consumes him. Unfortunately for Lance my dear rapist friend, he’d an enormous supply of pharmaceuticals, among them an ample amount of adrenaline, which now draws itself into plastic viper and prepares him for round number two.

  Gasping back to reality he comes, the drug surges through him waking every cell like a Sargent major would his troops. His pain now heightened for us both to enjoy. “Electrocute his fucking balls, Elspeth,” Ubel whispers seductive words of purest malevolence upon eager ear. The forks weren’t particularly sharp, but a sterling job they would do. Taking scrotum in hand, gently I fondle him, coaxing one testicle to surface. With lightning snap of elbow and fork, the metallic trident brutally punches into its destination, cries for mercy recede as the feline of pain removes his tongue. His screams becoming guttural, more animalistic the further we delve into our odyssey of retribution. The second fork doesn’t penetrate quite so quickly, forcing me to stab a few times before it succumbs to the inevitable, with popping sound like dull crack of whip, it finally slides home.

  Bentley Motors provided the battery for the scintillating electro-stim play we were about to indulge. An enormous great battery with 70 amp-hours of pulsating goodness. Snap! The clips sound out as they bite upon terminals tip, again as the positive metallic jaws nurtures single fork within its firm-jawed grip. A spark and crack of electric fun fills the air as crocodile and fork begin to kiss with tapping regularity. Each kiss his body contorts and convulses, as current snakes its way through nerve and muscle. Finally, I succumb to Ubel’s plea, completing the circuit to enjoy the show. The electro-funk of dear rapist friend, as he jitters and jolts to his own funky electronic beat, spittle from mouth, eyes wide and white. The might of his dance too much for fork, as one succumbs to gravity’s grasp, halting his break-dance of electro-funk.

  A bittersweet aroma now fills nostril and air as testicles cooked by current offer themselves, curiosity grows to taste the delicacy. Ubel urges me to take a bite, so with small black knife I sliced across. Both testicles fall, broken only by tiny tubes, like little obese bungee jumpers they bobble about. A little underdone, but quite tasty all the same, Lance had tasted his own tongue as a result of my appetite, my entrée. A shower of bright red blood raining its way to the floor, tickling me as it fell. His eyes told the true horror of this new experience, pupils so dilated I could have waltzed through them in my delight. Laura had shown great strength and humility in her torturous execution, Lance was wailing and screamed like a baby girl being raped, my ambition almost complete.

  “Skin the child abusing cunt Elsbeth, let’s take him layer by layer.” Again Ubel’s devious little mind had struck upon pure barbarous genius, with knife in hand around his face I cut. The process of skinning, as any keen cook will know is laborious and tiresome, but marriage of knife's sharp point and gravity to assist, a few tugs and twists his face pulls away quite nicely. With dear rapists face mask worn upon my smile the hilarity of his torment copulates with my loathing, as around the room I tango before coming to rest at the now faceless mess. Blood streams down body and leg, pooling upon floor and penis below, in all my excitement I slipped, grabbing his legs to save myself.

  My instinctual grab of leg now accompanied by a loud pop and deafening cry, my weight and his proved too much for shoulders to bear, both dislocating instantly. His pain and discomfort ripping deep within, allowing me a most satisfying grin. This action became the catalyst for his second round knockout as consciousness bid him farewell once more. His unconscious state offered us both the opportunity to rest, as the night grew young, I’d tired from within.

  -2-

  Lance always had exceptional taste, his kitchen and fridge were full of fruits, salads and other healthy options. No need to wash, no need to hide the evidence, Ray would know who had committed these crimes. He wasn’t going to include the authorities in his revenge, so what did it matter? Lilly suggesting he could also enjoy the disgusting job of cleaning up after us, nothing hurts as much as washing away the blood of a loved one. A fat juicy rump drops upon griddles ridge, as potatoes and broccoli boil silently beside, my curiosity too high as I venture to investigate the excellent wine collection below.

  The wine cellar’s an extraordinary sight, spiralling oak disappearing through glass cover of floor. The cool temperature’s a welcoming sensation from the main house, which seems to be kept at tropical temperatures year round. The staircase opens into a fully stocked and modern cellar, red’s, white’s, champagne’s, a whole host of expensive and exotic spirits line the racks which wrap around me with alcoholic embrace. Overwhelmed by choice my judgment blind, but the rack in the corner with lock suggests its contents are most desirable. The lock itself was enormous and menacing, but the hook it clasped too weak and feeble, falling off with one good swing of a number five.

  The 1988 Château Lafite becomes my choice for the night, the year of my conception. A most extraordinary wine, with a full and rich bouquet. Not what you would expect in a paedophile rapists home, but no matter I still intend to enjoy it thoroughly. The night had grown young enough to birth a new morning as I finished my meal. Not feeling like rushing Lance’s demise, I locked the house down, cuddling into a warm, soothing fire fronted chair to finish the last of the Lafite.

  Lance was barely conscious when I popped in to see him, the late morning sun not penetrating down here. Still hung like criminal, graced with faint whisper of pulse. His prolapsed rectum may have, overnight caused most of his demise, at lease I could only hope his pain was that great. “Cut him open and leave the pedo rapist to rot Elspeth.” Ubel came alive with excellent ideas when conversation turned to torture, never one to go for a quick kill if possible. My trolley of vengeance still stood nearby; the 10-inch butcher's knife offered itself to the new task ahead.

  Sitting in front of what was left of the child rapist, slowly I sharpen my new contempt, running blade up and down steels grooved length, from side to side, edge to edge she glides. The noise of steel cuts deeply into the psyche, Lance forces open a single eye, looking at me, pleading for a quick kill. My smile consumes my entirety as I prepare for the final agonising cut. Sitting quietly, examining my cutting possibilities, his mobile phone penetrates the silence, just once announcing the arrival of a new text.

  From the pile of clothes, I took his phone, my thumb pressing against round button of home. ‘Try again’ waggles from side to side across its tiny screen like an inpatient dog’s tail. Fingerprint locked a simplistic protection for such a damming device. Most operate their phones with just one hand, which makes it likely that the correct print belonged to his left or right thumb. Sucking dried blood from his left thumb, I place it upon the sensor, the screen sprang into life as identities confirmed.

  The home screen’s full of pointless apps, the little green message icon catches my eye, a little red circle displaying 15. Fifteen new messages require my attention, most just disgusting encouragements from Ray, informing of his intentions with a young boy. One is from Mike the rapist, asking if anyone is required today, the last confirming Lance’s latest shipment of pharmaceuticals. Texting Mike back with the cypher of youth, ‘no, tAk d NXT few days off, havN 2 much :).’ This phone contains every contact, and criminal in northern Europe, with fingerprint ID changed, I slip it into my pocket for closer inspection at a later date.

  Quicker than the crack of thunder or lightnings strike I flash out my arm at relativity’s speed, blade gliding through stomach with ease. Eyes widen like black-holes of midnight’s abyss, his intestines spill out, almost covering his new feminine persona, liver dropping to view within the cavity behind. The reality of cutting someone open in such a way, is the internal organs don’t just spill out, littering the floor like Hollywood would insist. They’re all connected to the spine, holding them in place. The only true way to eviscerate a body is to cut the connective tissue behind the organs; the lower
intestines can only fall a few inches before they stop. Second-cut clean and deep, slicing intestinal sack allowing slightly more to be born to the world. The kidneys, now also visible, simply lurch forward to peer out.

  My cut’s enough to make for a lingering death, the diaphragm intact allowing Lance to breathe, for how long is any one’s guess. Gravity and time will be his killer, gravity slowly pulling at organs, ripping connective tissue over time. Pain to be his final emotion, regret his last thought. Calmly I discard the blade, tossing it across the room, clattering its way off into the darkness.

  Each cell and room I check, ensuring no other poor child is still being held for future abuse. All rooms are dirty, but clear, except one. One small seedy little room at the furthest end of this corridor of cells lays the decomposing body of a young boy. The crimes committed upon his innocent young body still evident. A kiss goodbye to my Laura, my Hannah, one last time, lingering a while as I stroke her hair, lovingly kissing her now cold, blue lips. A lone, solitary click rings out in the darkness as I flick the light switch off, leaving this tormented crypt, locking the steel door as I go, entombing them in their own private catacomb. The little lift jolts me back to the ground floor above, back to a world of hidden truths and horrors.

  -3-

  As the elevator jolts to a halt, the insidious little girl within whispers her haunting narrative upon ear once more. No time to escape the claustrophobic little hell as she speaks. Her words crush me once again, my legs buckling beneath as I slide down the wall into foetal ball. Hands cupping mouth, eyes fully dilated as I await her next hurtful revelation.