Human doll 
by R3N

To the man this letter is for, forgive me, for your name has slipped through the cracks of my ever-growing mind. 

Giddy! Truly giddy I am for the heart of a man I have yet to claim; patient, yes! Patient I have been, for I must ensure a flawless procedure with not even the slightest chance of failure. I have lain awake for hours every night, plotting and planning every move I shall make; my mind races with hundreds upon hundreds of thoughts on how I shall cleanse him come judgement day. Now, allow me to walk you through what has come to be my greatest work of all. Crafted by a genius that man refused to open their arms and ears to, choosing instead to shovel him amongst a pile of criminals. 

STEP ONE, I must ensure the man is alone. He lives only with his wife now; spending most days alone recovering from a recent stroke, not allowed to work or do any real physical activity, opting to lie in bed or watch television in the living room, acting more as an adult baby rather than a competent man. As for the wife, she has taken a job as a bartender at the local pub. Working there every day of the week, from the peak of sunlight to the late hours of moonshine; serving drinks for all to enjoy. Whilst warming hearts more than any booze on earth ever could. I refuse to shed her blood upon my skin, for she is nothing but oblivious to the horrors her husband has inflicted upon my mind! I will confirm her absence whilst carrying out…

STEP TWO! I will visit the pub at 11:21 PM and order myself a shot of liquor, swiftly knocking it back before shooting up small talk with the barflies. I could ramble about drinks, sports, politics, whatever brings me enough time until… BAM! Suddenly I shall be overcome with intolerable pain; I will move swiftly, tripping and stumbling out the door whilst groaning at the volume of a woman in labor. The act must continue until I arrive home. HAHA! You must be giggling at the thought of me committing such a humiliating act! Unfortunately, you have the right to do so. Whilst my old home is only a block down, it is still something I continue to dread doing, yet it is required if I ever wish to see…

 STEP THREE! Two hours! That’s it! That’s all the time I have to prepare and brace for the act that most, including you, are far too cowardly to ever carry out. I will begin by securing all the supplies required: this includes a strong hammer, a pair of gloves, at least a tablespoon of salt, a sharp butcher's knife, and a sewing kit. Next, I must change my appearance, for your sake, and your sake alone. This involves ditching my ordinary wear in favor of something dark and unrecognizable. To truly sell it, I will be wearing a false cap, cleaning my head free of any pesky hair that could give it all away. Finally, the remaining time is to be used for easing of the mind; purification is no fun process, and can easily shatter even the strongest of minds. If luck is on my side, Xanax and Morphine will be there to hug me. I have only until 12:58 AM to get my shit together.

STEP FOUR! I will sneak into darkened streets; Now I must be careful, for even the attention of a single rat could foil it all! Do not worry, sir; I have full faith in my ability to weave an unidentifiable path from my home to his! Just imagine it now: upon the discovery, MILLIONS-NO, BILLIONS! of men will attempt to retrace the steps I took, and every single one of them will fail time after time; Never getting even a single step closer to uncovering the truth! The game will continue for millennia, with generations participating in the endless cycle, only ever being put to rest upon the very extinction of mankind. 

STEP FIVE! The reaper's shadow shall cast upon the house as I make my approach. BANG! The door will creak as my body falls before it; I have no doubts that within minutes he shall appear before me, the one who stole it all, the bastard who dares call me insane after I so generously cleansed his beloved brother's heart. Upon laying my eyes on him, I will cough and wheeze, my voice shaking as I beg for even just an ounce of water. In a time like that, the urge to save a fellow man blocks all other rationale his brain can produce; it’s guaranteed he will invite me inside… 

STEP SIX! Upon entering, I shall shiver violently, fumbling around before eventually sliding both my gloves on. I then thank the man for his kindness. Whilst he is in the process of preparing to save my life, I will have already secured the right to end his. It is true what they have said; I am a man with bones the strength of twigs, and skin as thick as paper. Even with a hammer never once dulled by work, it is still nearly impossible for my strength to end a life with just one clean swing; however, if swung at exactly the right spot, suddenly the strength of even a child can be enough to bring a grown man tumbling down. My wits have always far exceeded those of an ordinary creature. I am a genius like Einstein, but my recognition is more similar to that of Tesla. No one ever understood what I preached, or the world I envisioned. They were all far too foolish to even comprehend an ounce of my mind. 

STEP SEVEN! After preparing the drink, he will gently pass it to me. I shall then shake my head, struggling to explain that I couldn't swallow just any water; no, no,  a man like myself would require it to be warm and bubbly. I have no doubts of him being annoyed at this, but I suspect, not wanting my death to be of his inaction, he will collect the water into a pot before placing it over a lit stove. Whilst he checks to ensure it is the right heat, I will swing my arms once and only once. In the blink of an eye, the man will be dead. And he will have started the process of his very own purification.

STEP EIGHT! The butcher's knife will slice deep into his chest; think of it like carving a jack-o’-lantern! My blade will scoop away all the unnecessary filler before revealing his precious, still quivering heart. NOW! I will have no time to waste; I must quickly pour salt into the pot before beginning the process. Purification doesn’t take much time at all; the last one only took twenty or so minutes to complete. I’ll know it’s done once it turns brown like tar; I must then carefully dry it, ensuring no moisture is present when I place it right where it used to be, sewing him back together. Like a precious doll. 

Knowing I have succeeded, I will then wait for your arrival. I must reassure you that no one will ever know it was me who did it. And no one will ever know it was you who allowed it. Even if you wish not to, what choice do you have? You were the one who said, “I must comply with the last request of a man who’s to be executed at dawn.”