This chapter gets gruesome so I added my favorite comedy sketch to the media section feel free to take a break & listen to 6 minutes of John mulaney

Also I am not planning to kill anyone and I don't ever want to. This is purely a story and nothing more. I had to watch hella Netflix and do so much research to even come up with this, that's how inexperienced I am with this subject. Do NOT take this chapter as a serious reflection of myself. I am not planning to kill or hurt anyone in any way, shape, or form. This is all FICTION and isn't meant to be taken in a literal sense. Thanks for coming to my TED talk

On my one day off out of the two straight weeks of filming, I head to a fairly large shopping center a few miles away. Brendon stays home and naps while trying to begin and plan out every single little aspect of both the reception and afterparty. I never knew it required so much detail and attention. It's exhausting to even watch.

I pick up a total of sixty feet worth of plastic tarp from a hardware store along with a mask that's supposed to deflect paint fumes, a handful of rain ponchos from a general supply store, and various sharp objects from the lame gardening section of Walmart and the cooking supplies area of Target. There's a machete buried somewhere in a small hunting shop too, so I grab that and say I'm trying to cut down a huge tree in the backyard and it won't budge.

On my way out, there's a sale on Tupperware containers. I buy those too — maybe I can store body parts in them and stick them in the refrigerator for a bit.

Hayley texts me for the fiftieth time that morning. I haven't spoken to her since she went off on me after the proposal fiasco, and she's getting anxious. Our rental car reads aloud, "Hey Dallon, it's Hayley again. I'm really really sorry for what I said, and I'm so so happy for you guys no matter what I said. If you could text me back that'd be fantastic. That stupid family is still trying to get on your property for their rabbit corpse."

I don't respond. I don't care. She shouldn't have accused me, even if she was right. It was uncalled for and slightly insulting.

I have my own ring now. It dangles on a thin silver chain around my neck, because I can't really wear it when we're shooting and it's fairly easy to lose track of. It's freezing and I constantly find myself pulling it away from my skin as far as I possibly can when Brendon isn't around. He was the one that came up with the necklace idea.

When I'm on the last mile back to the hotel, Brendon calls. As soon as I accept, his voice is booming throughout the car and blasting out the speakers.

"You goddamn psychopath! How long has that box of squirrels been in the closet? It smells like shit, they're all decomposing, and my extra pair of boots smells like rotting carcasses! My good Uggs!"

Oh. I forgot about those. They were from before I formulated the plan to go bigger than little animals. It's a good thing those are the only ones left in our room, and it's also good that he didn't see me bury the other shoeboxes of animals underneath the tree next to the first bird he found.

"Sorry. I hoped you wouldn't find them."

"Yeah, well I found them! That's disgusting! If I see your face I swear to god, I'm going to — argh! I can't believe I love you, and it blows my damn mind that I'm actually engaged to you! This is so gross!"

"Sorry."

"I'm going to vomit in your shoes."

I hang up on him and pull over, because it's dangerous to text and drive. I shoot a message to Taylor, and book a room at an old motel across town for a nights stay under Taylor's name. One king sized bed, one bathroom, and a request for absolutely no neighbors for the span of at least two rooms on each side.

The motel is so run down, their security cameras only work on the first level of the building. If I keep my head down up the stairs and past the single camera in the check in area, I'm in the clear.

She's going to meet me there in twenty minutes. The zombie impersonators are the only people working today, besides the usual camera crew, Josh, and Tyler. They're still behind schedule.

I reach the hotel early, with ten minutes to spare before she shows up. I take the plastic tarps up and shove everything else into a duffel bag I keep in the back of the car for emergency purposes. The receptionist doesn't even bat an eye. She didn't even look at me when I asked for the room key, let alone memorize my features or realize who I am.

I drape the tarps over the furniture and tuck parts into the couch cushions and nudge some underneath the rug. The lamp gets moved to the corner of the room with the covered bookcase, I dim the lights, and wait on the sofa for Taylor.

🔪

She's ten minutes later than she said she'd arrive, so I had time to hide the tools I need in an easy spot to access that's also out of sight. I changed into the dress shirt I kept in case the occasion arose unexpectedly, like it has. My heart is racing. I've waited so long, and the moment is so close, I can almost taste it.

The lock clicks as Taylor shuts the door behind her. She smiles and begins to untie the belt holding her coat shut. Her hair is curled in loose waves, and the jacket drops to the floor around her black sparkling heels. The spaghetti-strap dress matches her shoes and creeps up her thighs with every step until she's sitting on top of me, and unhooking the clasp on the necklace holding my ring.

Her fingers dance over my skin as she starts to undo my shirt. She doesn't get past the third button before she's distracted by my lips. "You dressed up. I like it."

"So did you. How unexpected. Such a stunning dress, Taylor."

"Only bought it so you could take it off." Her dark red nails skim gently over my bare shoulder and up the back of my neck into my hair, and she's everywhere again.

It's almost time. She pulls me to the floor, and I try my best to keep my mind on her so she won't suspect anything. She's so caught up in the moment, she doesn't care when I pull her hair over one shoulder and inch the strap off to her bicep.

"You know," she mutters against my neck, "if you popped the question right now, I wouldn't even hesitate to say yes. There's not a doubt in my mind that I would say it. I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Is that so?" I sit up and she does too, but her lips don't move in the slightest, anxiously waiting for me to say that I love her too. She doesn't see me reach under the couch and grab the handle of the serrated steak knife I found in the kitchen drawer. "Now that you mention it, I do happen to have a question for you."

"Really? What is it?" Taylor smirks and drapes her arms over my shoulders, bringing her face in to touch mine. She's so gorgeous, it's a shame I've already got her where I want her. I can't turn back now. I've planned too long and had to reciprocate too much affection for me to chicken out. Besides, there's not really much space at the base of the tree for anymore animal graves.

"Depends," her skin is so smooth and soft, "if you're willing to comply."

"Only for you. I hope it's a good one. Make it worth it." She winks seductively, and it's time. It's finally time.

"It is, oh, it is. I just hope I won't scare you off."

She drags her tongue over her teeth and bites her lip. "You wish you could scare me off."

I grip the back of her neck in one hand and quickly press the blade against her throat and hold it in place with my thumb. Fear floods her eyes and she grabs at my wrist with shaking hands, trying to pry me off her. She tilts her head back, as if exposing her neck would lower the risk of her imminent death, and she opens her mouth to yell for help but nothing comes out.

She's afraid. She should be.

"I want you to scream."

In one relatively shallow and smooth slice, the blood starts to pour down her chest in a thin stream and down over my hands, snaking around my arm, soaking into the sleeve of my shirt as it goes. It's so warm and comforting, just how I imagined it to be, maybe even more. She's like an animal, but better.

She grasps at her open wound like she can piece it back together, falling back on the tarp and kicking her sharp heels into my legs. Blood pools around her body and the fabric of my pants absorbs most of it as I crawl on top of her with the largest knife I could find held inches above her chest. Her blue eyes widen with the bit of life still left still coursing through her veins, and she screams. It's hoarse and isn't a decibel louder than the sound of the blade ripping through her abdomen six times.

Her eyes start to flutter shut and I stop to savor the moment. "I knew it," she whispers, clutching at my wrist as if she had stopped me, "I knew... I never should've met you here. Never should have trusted you."

"Obviously. You have a degree in psychology from UCLA — I thought you'd have caught on to me sooner." I lean down and kiss her one last time. The blood sticks to my cheeks and drips down my chin. I don't want to wipe it away. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you didn't. Would've taken away all the fun I'm having right now."

"W-why? I just want t-to know." She's barely keeping her eyes open. Her breaths are slowing. It's almost over.

"Just for fun," I mutter in her ear, "I did it just for the hell of it, just to see if I could twist your arm to get you here, and I didn't even have to. I can't believe you trusted a psychopath so easily."

Her voice strains as she lets loose a sad little cry of agony. I can't tell if it's from finally realizing who she began to fell in love with had planned on taking her life since I met her, or if it's because the blood starts to gush faster, like a water fountain. It's beautiful. I love it.

"Taylor, I had so much fun playing with you. I'd love to do it again some time, but I don't think there will be a next time... isn't that a shame?"

Blood stains her teeth and she spits out one last "see you in hell" before her breath hitches and she relaxes back on the tarp. She loses all signs of life and she stares straight into my eyes, empty show-stopping blue, dripping watered down mascara into the blood spattered across her face. She looks like she could be the focus of a painting.

I can't believe it's over, finished so quickly. I wish it had lasted longer, but there's only so much you can do to make it take forever and ensure they can't get away to tell anyone. At least the memory will last for eternity. I'll never forget the blood running down my arms.

I slide off my shoes and roll them up in the edge of the tarp that isn't stained. I pull on the rubber gloves sitting on the coffee table and unwrap the poncho so I don't get blood splotches any more places than it already is.

I hate to clean up such a masterpiece, but it has to be done.

Halfway through, Brendon calls. I have to peel off one of my gloves to answer, and set down the clever. "Hey."

"Hey, I just wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. It was out of line. I know you're doing your best to keep everything under control, and I guess that's the best way to do it."

Sure. He can believe whatever he wants, even if it's false. "Okay."

"And I also wanted to tell you that I love you no matter what. I'm really glad you're in control and are actually dedicated to us. It really means a lot."

"You're welcome."

"... Are you busy?" He asks after a significantly long and awkward period of silence. I almost hung up on him and continued shoving body bits into Tupperware containers.

"Yes. I'm at a bar right now on the outskirts of town. It's an activity completely unrelated to what you said to me earlier. I wanted to explore."

"Oh. Okay. Well, do you think you could finish up over there soon? I kinda want to go out to dinner with you. I heard there's this gourmet restaurant about an hour away — I'll drive. It'll be totally worth it, and you'll get publicity for the movie. Josh said the first teaser trailer for the teaser trailer is getting released soon."

I'm not nearly done with cleanup, but I don't have to finish. As long as my prints aren't everywhere, I'll be okay, and I've made sure of that. I've already framed someone as well, so I won't have a problem in the slightest. "Alright. I'll be there in an hour or less."

I can hear him smile over the phone. "Mkay. See you soon. Love you."

"Love you too." I hang up, and return to packing shredded liver into a small bowl. There wasn't enough room in the intestines box.