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Cole: January 2025

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I turn around to see Sundrop at the door, coming inside and closing it behind her quietly without taking her eyes from me.

What the fuck was she doing… Here?

Panic froze me in place as I realised that the love of my life, the woman I had chosen to stop speaking to and blocked on social media, including her new phone number that she had given me was here. Inside my flat. Not my actual address I lived in; my home address, the flat next door. No, she was here inside the very well-kept secret flat I had purchased next to it. My killing and dismembering space. The place I worked on disposal and cleaning up of all evidence involved. I had run from her again and here she was in person, catching me with literal blood on my hands and a dead body on my table.

Shit!

I had just killed him, having only seconds ago dealt the fatal blow. In my blood covered hands was a knife stained and dripping in his blood. I had a lot to do before I could dispose of this body. The process was exact, and she had interrupted my routine. I didn’t know what to do. What the fuck was I going to do?

The room was well lit on purpose, there was no hiding what I had done. No lie or amount of gaslighting her would get me out of this. Not this time. I was standing in a pool of blood with a mess of splattered gore all over my protective clothing. My breathing heavy, I was forced with a difficult choice.

Could I kill her? To keep my secret, could I kill the person I loved? I did love her. There was no mistake, especially in that moment. If she was anyone else, I would have killed her on the spot for my own protection, no questions asked. As a psychopath my own survival was my number one priority. The fact that I was even debating it? I knew in that moment; I was utterly fucked.

Everything had boiled down to this, Sundrop holding my balls and heart, in a vice. She could ruin me right now. Ruin everything I had worked for and built for myself.

What was my other choice? Tell her the truth and hope she didn’t turn from me? Hope she won't call the police or worse, become frightened by me?

What was she even doing here?

How the ever living fuck did she even find out about any of this?

In the few moments that she had announced herself to me panicking over what to do, Luna had moved to the table at the other side of the room. It wasn’t lost on me that she was keeping as far away from me as possible. I found myself also noticing she never turned her back to me. There was a suspicion of me from her suddenly. My heart sunk at that. So much so that I didn’t see her touch the blades on my table with wonder and reverence before picking up a bone saw. It has a thick, wicked looking blade. A particular favourite of mine.

She looked at the different blades, a space for the missing slaughter knife that I had used to cut the throat of this child molester. The very bloodied weapon that was still in my hands, damning me. Gently she ran her fingers across the handles but kept her attention on me. Something was wrong with this image; my brain had panicked so much that I missed key moments.

“Do you know why my ex, that dear friend of yours nicknamed me after that tv show serial killer?”

Her voice was soft and despite the absurdity of the situation, I found myself shaking my head, answering her question, “I always thought the joke of you being a serial killer was because you always came across ruthless and heartless” I paused before continuing, “not that I really found that of you.”

She shook her head, “the reason is because when I watched the tv episode, and he rolled out his collection of knives for the first time,” She motioned to my very selection of torture implements before her. “I stared at the screen in wonder and said, ‘I’ve always wanted my own set of knives like that.’” I could imagine that ex of hers and how he would have reacted. “Yeah? Why?” Trying to keep my voice steady, show that I at least felt in control even if I didn’t, maybe never would again.

Her voice was distant as she took her eyes from me and stared at the dead body instead. “Because I was always interested in torture and dismemberment.”

Well, fuck me.

That was not what I had expected her to say.

Then she said the words that completely rocked my fucking world that I could never have been prepared for;

“I am the Rosemond Ripper.”