When hearing someone flush a toilet, and hearing the water crash and travel through the pipes, you would most likely imagine an unpleasant medley of human excrement- but as something clinks a bit differently against those pipes, you are not hearing that.
You could possibly be hearing the light, rushing clink of human bone and flesh. Specifically, the hand of your upstairs neighbor, a young college girl with dirty blonde hair and light skin. Her eyes bright with dreams, and her mouth smart with knowledge.
However sweet your neighbor was, there were people-no, there was a person who disliked her. A tall, and stocky man, with an unkempt face and balding head. His eyes were dim, and lustful-not for body, but for blood. He was called Henry.
You see, as you sit in your apartment, reading your book and listening to tunes, he would sneak into your “secure building”, through the access of a ditsy old woman politely holding the door open for Henry. He would pass by your door on the first floor, heading for the elevator with one intention;
Going up to the second floor, and walking through the halls in his decade old Nike’s, Henry would stop at the door of your upstairs neighbor’s apartment-whose name was Alisha- and knock loudly. As you look up at the ceiling, smiling and shaking your head at the sound of her frantically thumping across the floor, completely unknowledgeable of what was about to happen to her.
Upon opening the door, Alisha would see Henry. His dim, lustful eyes. She saw his hand gripped tightly around a dull butcher’s knife which he found in the drawer of his mom’s old home. Alisha would stumble back, and run, tripping across her floor and screaming.
You would hear this, but you wouldn’t worry. Alisha often watched scary things, and often screamed. She often fell off her couch and to the floor. So, there was nothing to worry about... At least, for you.
For Alisha on the other hand, she would be attempting to fight 300 pound Henry off of her. Shielding her face with her arms as he swings down the knife, causing cuts across her arms and blood to splatter across Henry’s grey sweater, and across Alisha’s face. She would scream again, but you just smile, roll your eyes, and put your headphones on.
“Another night of horror movies for Alisha. What a shame for the rest of us” You would think, but again, you were wrong.
Because Henry would move Alisha’s arms and begin stabbing, and chopping away at her face. Her beautiful, dream-filled eyes, her smart, knowledgeable mouth. Torn and ripped apart by a dull knife used to make delicious meals for a happy family, now being used to stop a possible future.
Alisha would cry, and gurgle. None would hear, because Henry had the door slammed and locked shut. He would stab into her abdomen, her arms, her legs, anger filling him. “She deserves this. She steals. She cheats. She must bleed” Henry convinces himself over and over, the last shreds of his morals seeping through the cracks of this act, as Alisha’s blood seeps into the floor boards.
Long after Alisha is dead, Henry is still stabbing. He is breathless, and only stops once his eyes clear of the brilliant rush of taking a life. He stands, looking at his hands. At the knife. He begins to panic. He only planned the death- he didn’t know what to do with a body.
Henry would drag Alisha across the apartment floor, and into the bathroom. He would rush back out to grab the knife, and he would hack away at pieces of Alisha. He would hack her hand off, flushing it down into the toilet, the water rushing through the pipes and the hand clinking against them.
You would hear it. You would wonder what kind of things someone was eating for the pipes to have such a noisy thing rush through them.
But no one was eating anything strange. And no one had gone to the bathroom.
It was just Henry, flushing pieces of Alisha down the toilet.
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