He lit up a cigarette and started to walk along the lake. The thick vegetation of the trees offered a cooling shadow. Zurich was a nice city, undoubtedly. He could imagine her, wandering around its streets, fitting perfectly with the scenery, her hair waving whilst cycling. It was so wonderful and yet, so painful, to walk in the same streets where she grew up. He stared at the calm surface of the water and he imagined her, leaning on the guardrail, watching the meek motion of water. He felt something hot ascending from his stomach, tightening his lungs. He had never loved anyone so much, before.
He had met her in Manchester. She was travelling round england. They got to travel together, till Ireland and then they came back at Manchester where they stayed together for two months in his miniscule, gray flat. The two nicest and most magical months of his life.
They made plans together. Plans where eternity and “ever”, although never mentioned, were a certainty. They made up their destinations, molding a common future. They decided that he’d leave his job and they would travel to Asia.
She had nothing to keep her in any place. Both her parents had died in a road accident and all her relatives were lost somewhere in Poland. She was travelling round Switzerland, since 15 years old, and then she wandered around england where they met.
She left for Zurich 2 weeks ago. She was supposed to pick up her things from a friend’s house and come back to him in 4-5 days time. She had given him a call once she was in zurich and told him she would hitchhike back to england. He had not heard from her since then. Grabbling in her things he found the telephone number of her friend in Zurich. The feeling that something evil was on its way grew bigger when her friend told him that she had already departed for england a few days ago.
He quit his job 3 days ago, took all his money and decided to go find her. He headed directly to Zurich, following his strong intuition that she was still there. He was on his second day of wandering around in the streets of Zurich looking for her and he was starting to think that maybe she was in another country, victim of a road accident. Or maybe she had changed her mind and decided to leave him? But still, the strong intuition that she was there , was still haunting him.
He kept on walking in the streets of Zurich until he was defeated by tiredness and he returned to his hotel. He tried to numb his mind and cloudy feelings with a bottle of whisky. In the night she appeared in his dreams crying for help..
Noun time and only desperation kept him walking. Lips tight, mind firmly shut, stomach and entrails full of a thick, gray substance, restraining his breathing. Sometime, he found himself at the banks of the lake, smoking. The sign in front of him drew his attention somehow. “Museum of physiology”. He followed the sign, unquestioning the movement of the strange substance inside his entrails. After 100 meters he was ascending the marble steps of the entrance.
The museum was full of schematic representations, relief maps of human and animal organs and real members of the human and animal physiology. His limbs out of control and his insides moved from a strange cause, he entered the big hall of human physiology.
He wasn’t able to realize, to fully conceive, what he saw in front of him, in the first place. Trying to regain control in his frozen legs he stood in front of the huge jar. Karen was floating silently, inside the thick liquid, naked, her face marked with sorrow, her lovely eyes, where he used to swear that he could see the most apocryphal creases of the world, unnaturally swollen with terror. A deep cut from her throat till her vagina, the skin dragged aside elaborately, revealed all her internal organs. His gaze moved from her face to the delicate, wonderful legs and from there to what he had worshipped so much, her red hair vagina. Then his gaze and most of him, was stuck in her internal organs. His mind became numb, the realization came abruptly and merciless, with the impact of an avalanche, destroying everything along its route. His legs gave way, and he fell hitting his head on the jar, a few centimeters of glass and a thick liquid separating him from the entrails of his beloved.
He regained his consciousness, facing the face of a young woman. She asked him something in german and he, with the awful realization filling everything inside of him, he shoved her away and stood up. Almost running, he went out of the museum and into the streets.
Once more, he found shelter in the bank of the lake. He gazed at its surface and at that moment he wished he could be swallowed by the lake. But the water was not deep and Zurich’s motto was “security” and it was sure that somebody would rescue him.
The gruesome display of the museum, had occupied not only the whole of his sight, but also the whole of his feelings. There was only a tiny space left, deep inside his stomach, insisting this never happened, Karen would soon come, her reddish hair sailing with the wind. Still, naked, cold truth, was gaining space, till it was alone in there, nothing else, not even communication with the outside world. All perception vanished; only Caren, open to any wicked look, any hungry eye, floating in a thick liquid. Love as an anatomy lesson.
His mind detached, it was already night when he found his connection with the world. Coming back from the timeless state of shock, to the here and now, the awful realization exploded inside of him. He wanted to scream. He leaned over and did it. A howling, desperate screaming, which for a second was ready to jaunt the lake. A screaming which brought cold shivers to passersby, forcing a couple to hug themselves and fasten their pace. He remained bent over the rail for long time. When he felt that his hands could sustain him no nore, he came down abruptly and walked fast back to his hotel. He stayed awake the whole night trying to kill with smoke the burning inside of him.
The next morning he was at the hotel again. He went straight to the administration office, as soon as it opened its’ gate. Caren had been found dead, 20 km outside of Zurich. She was apparently hitchhiking her way back, when some kind of psycho choked her and left her dead near the highway. She was organ donor and she had nobody to claim her, no relatives or friends, so the museum decided to use her body as an exhibit. The old museum manager was sterile and cold, his words dressed with reflectional tone, his eyes full of —civilized— reproach.
He stayed till midday, staring his love, more exposed than ever. An employee informed him that the museum had to close and he led his tired body outside.
Inside his room, he sat motionless, gazing out of the window. He no longer found the city beautiful. He could clearly make out the expression of contempt and reproach in the faces of the passersby, the same as in the museum, sterile, “neutral” assholes everywhere, filthy scums who were just doing their job, buying the gold teeth of Jews from the nazis or opening and exhibiting girls who did not have money or relatives. In their fucking city, their canting, clean and civilized nest of snakes, which claimed, although having no right, the body of his only love.
For the first time in his life he reached the very depths of his soul and what he found there was sorrow and hatred. Hatred for all the sterile scoundrels who were killing life and beauty with their sterile liquids, desecrating both body and soul. HATRED FOR ALL THE BASTARDS WHO TURNED LOVE INTO NIGHTMARE.
His mind, strong feelings bombing it, shifted to a transcendental, lethargic state. He could no longer see the city; his eyes could only see the thick liquid and Caren’s innards, open wide, transparent, ghost-like.
He came back from this strange lethargic state, with his head stuck on the glass and his hands grabbed on the ledge. While reality was filling his inner space, he felt his insides grabbed by this gray, heavy grill. Mourning and sorrow distilled, in their most pure form.
The next thing he was able to perceive was his huge sexual stimulation.
His mind still numb, and the image of his open love still haunting his sight, he was able to release with some quick motions all the tension who was gathering between his legs. His sperm was thrown on the glass — a ghostly collage with the faded image of open Caren and the thick white drops.
Soon the image gave its place to the ongoing nightfall, leaving only a few drops on the window and a wicked feeling inside of him. A feeling which was welcomed by the sorrow and mourning and he could only watch them as they got together, unable to react.
During the next few hours this new substance claimed space inside of him and occupied its mind producing hatred, anger and sick images. Unable to drag his thoughts away, he was left to its influence and when he finally went to his bed, he definitized the loss of Caren, masturbating, the museum image vivid in front of his eyes.
The next days were covered by a cataleptic cloud controlling his mind. He was spending his mornings watching with horror, mixed with desire, the body in the jar and then he was returning to his hotel, where sorrow usually met the sexual stimulation. The few moments when his consciousness returned, he could only watch, as if detached, the sickening desire growing bigger and obtaining substance inside of him. He once tried to fight it, he even thought of going back to england, but soon his conscious thoughts gave way to the new-born creature.
Three days passed and his mind cleared a bit, as his grief and woe were replaced by anger. He was in the museum again, watching Caren. He liked that he could stare so deep inside of her, the sight of her open insides not only attracting him but also turning him on.
Yet, he could realize how sickening was this desire, and this knowledge made his eyes burn with hatred for the bastards who made this happen. And he felt that this sight should be kept for him and only him. He couldn’t stand the idea of thousand hungry eyes, devouring the most personal areas of Caren’s body. He felt the visitors penetrating their bedroom, indiscreet eyes invading their personal moments.
He imagined her, lost in his hands, embracing her for ever, beyond death, beating time, in the realms of forever.
A hand, touching his shoulder, stopped his daydreaming. The officer asked him if everything was ok. They started to feel unease with his everyday visits — this was obvious. He fighted down his urge to grab the fucker and beat the living shit out of him, and he replied that he was ok. He headed for the exit with his hatred burning his bowels. He glanced over his shoulder to see a young couple watching caren. The young guy said something to the girl and they both laughed.
He waited for them outside and when they came he followed them discreetly till their house. He marked the location in his mind and went away.A decision was being born inside of him. He would accept no more desecrating eyes, no more scoffing. He would protect his love and he would make the bastards pay.
Without fully realizing what he was to do, he headed for his hotel made some fast preparations and after two hours he was on the streets again. He spent the whole night outside of the flat of the young couple, his mind empty from everything except the image of Caren and an underground desire which he felt that, like a lighted tunnel, it could lead him out of his unbearable misery.
The next morning he visited the museum for a while, to see his beloved one, and —full of a strange energy— headed again for the flat. He waited outside for what must have been a lot of hours, although, he, empty from any thought, could not perceive them in the usual way. When he saw them approaching it must have been past midnight. He knew it was the right time.
He put a cigarette among his lips and he walked towards them. He stopped in front of them making a sign for lighter. The girl started opening her bag, while the guy left her hand and stood in front of him.
Moving fast he took the knife from the internal pocket of his coat and, grabbing the guy from his jacket, he sheathed it into his chest. Time froze, everything immobilized, ceased to live, there were only the dying guy, the screaming eyes of the girl and the dim conscience of himself pushing the knife deeper. The girl screamed and time flowed again and he grabbed her by the hair and abruptly interrupted her screaming placing the blade among her vocal chords. Her hot blood washed his face over, while for a moment of concentrated past, present and future, he sank in her dying gaze.
In a frenzy, he finished the guy off and moved both bodies in a nearby small park. He undressed them and started to work upon them impatiently. Neither the heavy, disgusting smell of their innards, nor their thick deep red blood, were able to detach him from his work. He finished them both in less than 5 minutes. Lying flat, naked, with a cut starting from their chest and finishing above their genital. He had pulled aside their skin throwing fragments of flesh and grease on the ground, using thick needles to stabilize it. The sound of the flesh, as it was torn apart, turned him on till he was almost in spasmodic state.Hands trembling, he placed the sign above them, (“EXHIBIT No1”), he unzipped his trousers and masturbated, ejaculating inside their open viscera, he changed his blood stained clothes with new and clean ones, placed the old in his bag and went away on a fast pace.
In the night, in his room, he slept with Caren hugging each other, floating together inside the thick liquid.
Through he next days, the sickening excitement seemed to become more natural, his desire for the new version of Caren closer to his conscious wants. It was as if he had been able to approach the new Caren, and now he was possessed with the urge to approach her more, making the next step towards their re-union.
The way to do it was clear, beyond any thinking. Three days passed, before he could handle his next victim, a respectable Swiss lady, around 45. He tightened her naked body on the banisters of the lake, using wire, her innards offered to any passerby, with the sign “Exhibit No2”, next to her.
A few hours later, still in a feverous excitement he located his new victim. His first blow was rather superficial, as the young man stepped back and the blade only scratched his chest. The man hit him in the face and he, adrenalin, fear and pain mixing inside of him, he bent and attacked horizontally. The blade penetrated easily the belly of the man and he kept on screwing it till he felt his body collapsing lifeless on him. In a state of panic, he worked very fast, fixing him in less than 3 minutes. He ran away, his heart beating hard. He was bleeding but his excitement prevented any pain. Back to his hotel, washing his face above the sink, he brought her in his mind and was lost inside her dead, glass-like look. He hugged her and they coupled, floating together, his hands inside her open belly, caressing her insides. He could feel her offering more of herself, more eagerly than any other time, opening almost all her being.He ejaculated with spasms, filling the sink with thick and transparent sperm, like the liquid of the jar.
Despite the cloud of sickness, sexual arousing and feverish desire, a part of his mind was still able to function logically. His exhibits were on the front pages, and in the afternoon on the t.v. in the bar, where he was cooling down after a visit to Caren, there was a long report about the serial killings.
It was obvious that he should stop his visits to his beloved — for a while at least. Maybe he should go back. His money would not last for more than 3-4 days, anyway. The prospect of quitting his love filled him with desperation.
He was only a step away from the desired reunion, yet he knew his work would be very dangerous as the streets of Zurich would be patrolled. He was sure he needed to risk a final act to secure his dreamworld. He needn’t even think about reality, reality was nothing without Caren, his fantasy illuminated by the presence of Caren was everything. The dreamworld the only place where they could enjoy their timeless union, the only thing that mattered.
He could almost feel and touch this world, closing his eyes, waves of pleasure chilling down his spine. It was still spectral, in need of more energy. The dead eyes of her beloved demanded a bit more satisfaction in order to become eternal.
He spent a sleepless night, thinking his plan. When, just after dawn, sleep defeated him, Caren was smiling, encouraging him.
Trying to control his trembling, he entered the museum 10 minutes before the closing time. He knew that at that time there was only one guard and the administrator. He stood in his usual position, absorbing courage from the gaze of her love.
Soon, the guard approached him to inform him that the museum was about to close. It had become a routine the last week.
When he felt the hand of the guard touching lightly his shoulder, he turned abruptly and closed his mouth with his hand. Using his other hand he sank the blade inside his big, watery, belly pushing it deeper and deeper. In a few seconds the body collapsed in the ground.
He took the keys, locked the door, took his knife and headed for the office.
He opened the door without knocking and with two fast steps he was in front of the desk. The administrator looked at him surprised, lifting his head from the scattered sheets on his desk. He tried to sit up, but the blade cut his throat and he fell on the wall, overthrowing the chair, painting surrealistic red drawings on the wall. He made a second effort to sit up and this time the blade sank among his ribs. He barely had time to moan before the blade cut his throat open.
He started to work fast on the two bodies. While he was preparing them, he could feel reality dissolving around him. His sight was muzzy, as if the air was replaced by a thick liquid. He could catch glimpses of a spectral Caren floating towards him.
When he had mounted them on the wall, behind Caren, opened up and with their signs describing their state as “Exhibit No4” and “Exhibit No5”, respectively, he could barely perceive their contours. Everything was a semi-transparent liquid and a buzz inside his head.
Moving ecstatically he smashed the jar using the chair. Caren fell in his hands and he hugged her, feeling her respond with passion. He caressed her tenderly, and in a timeless, eternal moment, weaved out of desire, love and passion he penetrated her. He felt her trembling with pleasure, smiling at him. And the world was closing around him, around him and Caren, everything else vanishing, leaving their passionate love exist for ever. He and Caren, shouting, open, beloved, beloved, as he loved her, as he could never dare to imagine her, wide open for him only, making love in a world full of exhibits, beyond death, beyond reality, beyond the sterile museum liquids, beyond time itself.
Before he came, he dipped the blade vertically in his belly and started to cut himself up, creating a cut similar to Caren’s one. He did not feel any pain, just waves of energy enveloping them, while his sperm was ejaculating inside her and she accepted it with tremblings, while death sealed the door of their world.
The knife fell, their innards united, his orgasm became one with death, beating it, and he embraced her, making her his, for ever and more.
