I

Marja could remember that day all too well. At that point in time when she took a left up the drive her pure intention was just to hide for an hour; just to make sure the pigs were away for good. She had too much heroin in her pocket to get away with it this time. She would be clucking the hard way in the cells. No meth- just the cold hard nausea, the sweats…the delusions.


She was quick, nimble and light on her feet. She pushed herself up against the exposed brick, eyes darting around her like a wild animal. She exhaled slowly and ducked past the first window of this home. She could see her destination not 10 feet away, a large fern that would surely mother her until it was time to sneak out in the night; fox-like. She went to take on the next window until something caught her eye.

Never before had she seen such as scene as this. In all the movies, in all the books and television shows she may have been exposed to, nothing could have prepared her for such a sight. Helsinki was certainly living up to its nickname.

Marja covered her mouth with her small, shaking hands and muffled a scream. She knelt against the brick work. No matter how much she wanted to avert her eyes; she simply couldn’t. The curiosity of such an evil and dangerous act had taken over her and she simply sat and stared at the madness.

It was not in broad daylight, nor was it in the back of the alley in which she sat; instead, it was through a small, ground-level window. She saw him towering over a stained, surgical table in the middle of a large, basement room. Muffled screams filled the air accompanied by the clanging of metal as the mysterious man inspected the many rusted tools. 

Slowly Marja edged in to get a closer look. The tall man stood with his back to her, at the bottom of the table. On it was a blonde haired beauty. She was naked, except for the leather straps binding her down. One was tightened around her mouth, the other across her breasts and the final one across her thighs. The skin beneath binds was rubbed raw and the ties hold her wrists had chaffed the skin. Her eyes were wide with panic, all the while staring at the tall stranger. 

He began to sing to himself, filling the air with a deep and angelic voice. Marja watched as he lifted a small hammer, along with four nails and walked to the other side of the table. The young, Finnish woman had a perfect view of, not only his actions, but his face. 

His hair was dark and cropped short, but she spotted small curls when he lent over the woman. He was certainly tall, and from her angle, Marja would say about six-three. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up to the elbows and on his left arm there was a beautiful, elegant sleeve tattoo. On the other were various portraits, scribbles and the outline of a heart. Marja almost scoffed; a heart? How ironic. 

He took one of the nails, positioned it against the left side of her zygomatic bone and began to tap the hammer against the nails head. The young woman began to cry out, but alas her pleas were muffled. He sang and laughed at her pain as he tapped the second nail into her mandible. Leaning over her, he repeated the process on her right side. 

His grin was manic, like none Marja had ever seen. He was maniacal, sick and twisted. Yet, she couldn’t take her eyes away. 

“My dear.” He spoke in English to the woman, pushing the stray blonde hairs from her forehead, “Your holiday as turned into somewhat of a disaster if I do say so myself.”

Tears ran down her cheeks and her body shook and writhed in agony. He roughly pushed her body down and brought his face close to hers. 

“Now stop that my dear. There is no need for all this.” His nose was almost touching hers, “You are not going to be as fun as I first thought.” 

He released her and stood to his full height. He reached over and dropped the hammer onto the try, replacing it with a large, amputation knife. Her eyes widened, more tears ran down her cheeks and mixed with the blood from her wounds. He raised the blade high, delicately traced a finger tip along its sharpened edge and smiled to himself. 

“Oh now love, don’t look so frightened.” He waltzed gracefully back to her side, using the fingertips of his free hand to trace along her bare skin. He twirled the blade around in his other hand and sang aloud once again.

He reached her ribs and began to ‘tip-toe’ his fingers along them, “First, my dear, these pesky things must go.” 

He slipped the knife into a loop in his belt and without anyway warning slammed his forearms down onto her ribs. There was an ear splitting crunch, the blonde haired woman bit down hard on the leather and Marja swore she could hear the squelch of her organs tearing. Blood dripped out the side of her mouth and her body convulsed. 

“There now, much better.” 

He took the knife from his belt, placed the blade down by her belly button and began to drag it up towards her throat. She struggled weakly against him, her mind barely conscious through the pain. Marja saw her eyes roll in her head and then watched helplessly as her lids slid closed. Above her, the creature took hold of each side of the large gash and pulled until the flesh, muscle and tissue separated completely. His eyes began to sparkle with glee at the sight of her still barely beating heart.

Marja felt her stomach protest, her insides squirmed. This was grotesque. Bile rushed up her throat and she leaned to the side to empty her stomach nosily onto the ground beside her. Down in the basement the mysterious murderer looked up at the half opened window and scowled as he saw a small form fall backwards onto the alley floor outside.

He left his fresh masterpiece behind on search for the peeping tom who was naive enough to gaze into his sweet home. Quickly rinsing his hands in the sink, he excited the small room, locked the heavy, metal door and quickly dashed up the stone steps. Walking around to the front door he stepped onto the porch to check for any visible cars. Spotting none he continued around to the private ally way, where the garbage cans resided, beside his home. There, beside a puddle of liquid bile, lay a young woman. Her hair was spread out behind her, the dark colour was streaked with a faded red and the strands were matted. 
Her skin was unusually pale and her body lacked womanly curves but it was no doubt a woman. Gently he knelt by her body and placed a hand on her cheek. His head cocked to the side as he took in the peaceful expression on her face, her pink, bruised lips were parted slightly and her cheek bones were high and well defined. Then he noticed them; the track marks on her thin arms. 

Anger built up inside him. She was just like them, like the other worthless, stupid children wasting their lives on addiction. They were all just like he had once been. 
He lifted her body, one arm supporting her neck while then other was placed under her knees. She was so weightless and thin that he could only pity her, like he always did with his ‘clients’. He cursed his caring heart as he stumbled back into his tower.