A noble blood sacrifice

The aftermath

I retrieved a carving knife and a  bread cutting knife. There was also a miniature hacksaw stashed right by the pipes in the drawer underneath the sink. I needed the bigger one that you saw trees with but I took it just incase. Damsile's body was noticeably lighter when I removed it from the bath. Flushing the blood proved difficult as it had thickened considerably. I tried stirring it as much as my strength and endurance would allow. The results were better than nothing. Thank god there was a toilet plunger. Lord knows how long it would have taken otherwise. 

It took at least an hour and a half to drain the bath completely. There was still a long way to go before I was done. I decided to decapitate the body before cleaning up the dining room. That way, the most heartbreaking part would be over and I could cry my tears and move on. I could not afford emotions right now because time was of the essence. The head was relatively easy to remove as half the job was done already. 

Blood was still dripping from the body. This meant I had to drain it manually. I removed the bed sheets from the duvets and whatever i could find in the wardrobe. Made a makeshift rope. The burglar bars on the windows would act as a pulley system. This was achieved by the same methods you would apply when tying luggage onto a car. You pull the rope, in this case sheets tied together, through the first two bars from the inside. The next two bars would have the rope running through from the outside. Then a half slip knot at the end that you would keep tying the further up you pulled the rope. This to ensure the grip did not fail. After setting this all up. 

I tied Damsile's headless body. Wiping tears throughout the entire process. I then placed her body back in the tub after filling it with boiling hot water to ensure the blood stayed porous. Inch by inch I pulled the sheets through the bars. Slip-knotting each time i reached the length of two hands. The body rose up as mine kept ducking down. I pulled and pulled until only the beginning of the shoulder line was touching the bath. I tied the final slipknot. My hands hurt and my back stung. The sun was sitting on the horizon so there was no opportunity open for rest. 

I drank some water and made a peanut butter sandwich. I didn't care about the blood anymore. Eating as is with stains on the bread. As long as I could banish the hunger pangs of my hangover. Feeling reasonably energised, i got down to cleaning up the mess in the dining room. Scooping up the bloody paste. Gathering the broken shards and candle wax. Scraping off with a butter knife what couldn't be removed by hand. Mopping the floor and wiping off the walls. Returning the furniture to its original positions. I finished after what seemed like forever before being able to return to the bathroom. Taking a moment of contemplation and preparation before I did. 

The blood in the bath was still watery as I had made it a point to check up on the waters heat every now and then. Draining whatever build up was present and repeating the process thereafter. There was very little blood left at this stage. Only pin prick amounts. 

I got to cutting off the shoulders. Learning that to get through each side with the knives, I had to break the joints multiple times. I used this method for the arms and hands as well. This was all like cutting up cows and sheep for ceremonies and what have you. Things we had done our whole lives in the village. Whether you accepted the practices or not, as a man you were not permitted to sit on the sidelines and watch others toil. Having been living in the city for at least four years give or take, it had been a while since I was involved in those activities. But auto memory was currently on display. Memory told me the part I hated was coming up. Opening the guts. 

Earlier I had tied a scarf around my face that I had found in the main bedroom. It did a reasonable job. But it was no match for what hit me when I sliced open the abdomen. The insides fell out in a liquid covered mess. Splashing all over the bath, the walls and on me. The odour was unbearable. Much worse than those of an animal. I spent so much time removing the scarf. By the time it came off my head was still turning to locate the toilet. I sprayed the hot and cold water pipes running across the wall with vomit. The side of the toilet too. 'More stink and more to clean,' I lamented in my mind. Staggering to the toilet bowl for the second round.