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She Had to Be Perfect

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I had finally done it. By god, I had finally done it! I'd gotten all the parts I need together, every last one of them. They were so hard to find. They wouldn't let me have them. They struggled, they fought, they screamed, they spat, they cursed and ran and they just couldn't just stop moving around and kicking and biting and crying. It made me so mad! They had what I wanted, but they didn't care. They wanted to keep it all to themselves - selfish! So selfish!

When I think about all the work I had to do to get these parts, all the wasted efforts, all the ones who got away, all the failed attempts and wasted nights and the liars and the cheaters and the cheaters. All the driving I had to do, all the places I had to go, all the lying I had to do, all the tools I had to buy or steal, all the tools that I had to buy or steal again because those stupid, worthless liars broke them... it makes me sick. It makes me angry! It makes me crazy!

She had to be perfect. There was no doubt about it. Before the accident, she was perfect. She was everything a man could ask for. Her beautiful hair, her soft, pillowy lips, her radiant eyes that almost seemed to reflect only the wonderful things in the world, her soft hands that made me quiver whenever she would touch me, her long, alluring legs that went on forever, and her sweet supple skin that was softer than anything else in history. She was perfection given human form. An angel who had come down to earth. Before the accident...

The car was going so fast, it was so dark that night, she couldn't see him, how could she? He was a very stupid man. He deserved to die in that crash. Who drives such a big truck so fast?! She didn't have time to leave. She couldn't escape. She couldn't get away in time. Nobody could help her. The fire was so bright, so ugly, so dirty. It left her body ruined. Her brain stopped working too. Her entire ticker stopped ticking and she fell apart! It wasn't fair, it wasn't right! She was mine, she was everything! She was perfect!

But soon enough, it wouldn't matter anymore. Tonight, I was going to fix it. I was always good at fixing things. I knew I could fix this too, make it better. I could save her. I could bring her back. All I needed were the right tools, the right parts.

I had all the pieces together with me, all of them in the room, surrounding me. All contained in air-tight plastic containers. It was such a mess getting all of these together. All of the nasty red stuff all over my equipment and my tables. It was so nasty and sticky! But it was better now. It had all been cleaned up. It was all going to be okay.

I had her body preserved in a little bag - well, what was left of it, anyway. The accident broke all the things I like about her. All her skin was gone, most of her face was gone, her arms and legs were gone. But that would be okay, because I would fix it tonight. It was all going to get better, it had to! I worked so hard on it! She was going to come back to me today! There was no doubt in my mind now.

It was so hard to look at her all laid out on my slab. She was so burnt and broken and nasty. Before, I could never look at her like that. I would scream and cry and break things and I would become so upset I couldn't even think! But I got over it. I had to get over it. I couldn't fix her if I couldn't get over it. I couldn't have her back if I couldn't get over it.

She was broken, like an unfinished puzzle. But I had all the random pieces, and I was going to put them together. Make something beautiful. Make her perfect again. With all the perfect pieces.

The skin was the hardest part. She didn't have any good pieces left on her body, I had to take it all off. It was terrible! I felt so sick, I gagged and heaved and I cried my eyes out, but I did it. With the old skin gone, she needed new skin. The prostitutes from all over town worked great. Sure, they were sick and gross and disgusting and nothing like her, but they used those special creams and moisturizers to make their skin smooth and soft. Just like she did. All of those men had to touch them every night, so they had to be smooth.

I'd pick them up in my car, I'd take them to a special, secret place, and I would strangle them with my rope. It's so much harder to strangle a person than it is in the movies. They fight, they kick, they scream, they bite, they never stop! It's maddening! I hated it so much! But I still killed them. I had to take so much skin from so many different ones, because they all had these imperfect spots all over their bodies. Hairy spots, spots with moles, rashes, bug bites, cuts, bruises, birthmarks. I had to burn all of those bad pieces up in my furnace. They were so useless! But thank goodness, I finally had enough skin to finish her.

The hair was much, much easier! I only had to kill one girl to get that. Every other piece, I had to kill so many. They struggled and fought so much, the pieces would get ruined and smashed up, and that made me so made I'd ruin the rest of their parts so I couldn't even scrap anything else good from them. It was such a waste! I feel so guilty thinking about all the parts I wasted. I'm so stupid! I'm so worthless! I'm nothing like her.

I went to the hair salon she used to go to. I looked at all the pretty girls who would go there. She had to have pretty red hair just like she did, no other color would do! And it couldn't be dyed! Dyed hair was no good. It had to be natural. It had to have been made by God himself, or it was useless! It was no use to me!

Finally, I found a girl who had beautiful hair like she did. She wasn't pretty like my perfect woman was, oh no. She had an ugly face and a fat butt and gross thighs. She was disgusting. Most women are disgusting and ugly and full of broken and lopsided pieces. But not her. All of her pieces were a perfect size, the perfect shape. She looked better than any of them ever could.

I snuck up behind her one night, and I slit her throat. Blood got spilled all over her hair, but that was okay. I would wash it out. I took the whole scalp with me. I had to primp it up and style it myself, because even though it was the right length and color and texture, it didn't look like her own hair just yet. It was too curly. I had to straighten it, I had to comb it. I had to make it stay still.

Her eyes were so beautiful and seamless that I couldn't just take them from one girl. I killed a girl and took her eyes, and one of them looked great. But the other was loppy, it didn't fit right in her socket. I had to throw it out. I almost lost hope, until I found another girl with eyes just as pretty as her's were. I shot her in the stomach. It took her so damn long to die! It was so boring and frustrating! But I couldn't shoot in the head, could I? No, no. I couldn't risk hurting the eyes. I had three perfect ones now. But that was okay. It was good to have spare parts, in case something went wrong.

Her lips were so supple and perky that it was hard to find any women in the whole city with ones that could even compare to her's. The really terrible part was when I found her, her skin color was all wrong! Her skin was much too dark! I had to cut around her mouth with surgical precision to get just the parts I wanted. I would have let that stupid woman live, too, if she had just stopped screaming after I was done! There was no reason to scream! I was finished!

Next were her legs. Those were the hardest to find of all of the pieces. She was a tall woman, so flawless. Better than any super model who ever lived. She also liked to jog in a park near her home. So her legs were toned and muscled and strong. It was so hard to find a woman who had both those wonderful things about them. I could only find three. I attacked the first one with an axe, back when I was first starting out, you see. That was a very dumb thing to do. Very dumb. I ruined the legs while I was fighting with her. That time was my fault.

The next try, I booby-trapped the path with razor-wire. I thought that plan was so much better, but I tied it too low. The dumb girl ran into it, and was stupid enough to kick her legs high into the air when she fell back! It split them right open and I couldn't stitch them back together, no matter how hard I tried! That failure made me cry all night long.

But finally, I succeeded. I tricked the very last woman. I pretended to be lost along the trail, I told her that I needed help getting home. The dumb bitch got in my car, and that was the end of her. I smashed her stupid, ugly head open with a pipe. She never even saw it coming! The stupid girl died after I turned her ugly skull into a pile of red goo. But her legs were totally unharmed. I could truly use them.

The final part was her hands. They were the rarest of all the parts. There were no woman in the entire world who hands as good as her's were. No one, except for her sister.

She loved her sister so much, they were always together. I didn't want to hurt her, and I know she wouldn't have wanted anything bad to happen to her sister either. But she was the only one with the hands! I needed her hands! I did what I had to do. I know she would have hated it, but she would forgive me. She was amazing like that. Always so forgiving, no matter how badly I screwed up.

But I didn't want to hurt her like I did all the other girls. It had to be quick, painless. She invited me into her home. We were both grieving. We were both so sad to know she was gone forever and would never, ever come back. So sad and so angry. But it was going to be okay, only she didn't know it yet. She couldn't know it, or else she would ruin it.

She liked to drink tea a lot, but her sister hated it. That's one of the reasons I didn't take any of the other parts from her: she was so much uglier and dumber than her sister was. She wasn't nearly as perfect. The only thing they had in common was their hands. Even then, she painted them with this stupid, ugly blue nail polish I had to work extra hard to clean off.

When she would drink her tea, she'd always pour in some disgusting sugar-free sweetener. I hated the stuff, personally. It tasted like trash! But it was perfect for what I needed it for. She never took it out of packets, she got it from a precious little jar. It was easy enough to pour some poison into that thing. She died quickly and painlessly. She didn't suffer at all. She went to sleep in the softest and most beautiful way. Her sister would be glad to know she wasn't murdered gruesomely. Instead, she drifted away sweetly and silently.

All the pieces were together, yes, but there was still so much work to be done. It was only the start of the hard work! I still had to stitch all the parts together, fit them in the right places, make sure they were aligned right. I had to be so careful, so delicate, make sure not to break anything. She had to be perfect. Everything needed to be measured and nipped and tucked with pinpoint accuracy, or everything I ever worked for was a waste.

Finally, it came time to bring her to life. To animate her. To see her wonderful face perk up in an enchanting smile once again. She was going to be so happy to see me! So happy to be alive! The electrical currents, the chemicals, the drugs, it all had to line up in a meticulous crescendo so that she could finally come back to life as she was. I needed to her voice again. To hold her in my arms, at least one last time.

It worked.

Her body twitched and convulsed and wiggled and stiffened. Her nervous system had to restart itself over from scratch, after all. Everything about her was brand new. To her, the whole world had just been created again. Her brain wasn't what it used to be, but in time, it would come back together. Her voice was gurgly and stifled because she had forgotten how to use her vocal cords, but she would be okay. I connected everything right to where it should be. Since her mind had just been turned on again for the first time in years, she was no different than a baby. But that was perfect for me. I had a chance to raise her from infancy. To mold her and groom her and make her mind as perfect as her body was.

There were sirens in the distance, hissing and wailing and screaming vulgar threats at me. The police had found me, and they would be here soon. But it didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered anymore. Everything had finally been put together, and she was rebuilt the way she should be. She was my whole world now, and they could never take that away! She was beauty, she was grace, she was perfect.

Written by DoctorBleed
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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