Sir George

by Tabatha Williams

It started off almost as a blinking of images. So I wrote them down. That's what they tell you in therapy. If you write them down, it gets them out. So I wrote them all down, got them out of my system. But then he came along. Started off as a joke. A way to feed my narcissism. As the years went by he became a real part of me. I started to blame my bad habits on him. Or if I drank a lot it was him that would come out and make my decisions. Then the images started to come more frequently. From a few a month to a few an hour. Stronger, brighter, longer. No more short flashing imagery. Then I began to hear it, smell it. I could almost feel the knife in my hands. I was also always him. Every bad thought was his. The joy at the carnage strewn around the room, was his joy. The evil bubbling up and out of his mouth in the most sinister laugh that you could imagine, all him. Every dirty fucked up thought became his. Sir George. He was a way for me to express my dark side. Now He's real and I'm frightened. He's alive in my head and he's taking over.

I suppose I should start from the beginning. I was working in a crappy music store making minimum wage, bored out of my mind. It was a few weeks before the holiday season was to start so everyone was saving their money for when things would be on sale. I'd already finished reading the Harry Potter series from our books department. Like I said, bored! Titan AE had just come out and I loved the name Planet Bob. I was standing there waiting for our non-existent customers to come check out when it hit me. Wouldn't it be neat if Planet Bob had a really wacky ruler? With a really wild population of just random creature? Thus Sir George, Duke of Planet Bob, Ruler of One Legged Space Chickens, Crooked Clowns and Evil Penguins was born.

He started off as just a running gag between my co-workers and me. I even created a Sir George name tag to wear for when I was in a silly little mood. When I would go out drinking the drunk me would become Sir George. Charismatic, social, funny, everything I felt I wasn't. Then somehow over the years the images I saw in my head I started to associate with him. Big mistake. Probably the worst mistake of my life. I didn't feel comfortable with the things I saw so I associated the sick things with him to make myself feel better.

Now to the present; I wake up on a dirty mattress in a dark cellar. I'm naked except for a large red strap-on. I am covered in sticky blood. I look over to the right of me and the body of a chained and mutilated woman is there. I can tell its a woman because the breast are still intact. She's chained at wrists and ankles, her abdomen shredded. Directly on the side of the mattress is a scalpel, dried blood coating it almost completely. I look around the room. A light bulb is turned on swinging and casting odd shadows on the cement walls. Blood staining most the room. I have never seen so much blood before. Once I stopped shaking; I start to remember everything.

I had gone to a bar the night before. I was drinking heavily because of a bad day at work. I see this girl who just keeps glancing my way. She's very pretty. Bright blue eyes and short black hair framing a heart shaped face. Now, don't get the wrong idea, I love men but who says I can't enjoy a woman every now and again as well?

I decide to go talk to her. Actually, Sir George decides to. I realize it as I'm walking over to her that he's humming very excitedly. I take the place by her at the bar.

We get to talking and I realize that for awhile now it's been Sir George leading the whole conversation. In short order he convinces her to go back to our place.

At that moment I vomit. I remembered everything in perfect detail. How we beat her until she was unconscious, and then dragged her down to the basement. (I also realize at this point that I now remember building this room at night after work.) We chained her to the floor. We raped her repeatedly till she came to and past back out again. We took the scalpel and sliced her open while the strap-on was still attached to me and inside her body.

I can still see MY hands go into her body and spread apart, pulling the slit wider and wider. Her screams are still bouncing around my skull with the sounds of her skin tearing beneath me.

Begging for me to stop. Begging for God to end it. He finally took pity on the girl and slit her throat open spraying blood all over me.

"And that was the first killing?" the psychologist asked me from across the room.

"Yes, it was."

"Were there more?"

"You're kidding right? You read the police report. You know how many bodies were found."

"Yes, but I want to hear from you. I believe if we go through them it may help you."

I sighed, "So fucking many...."

He grabbed her from behind and shoved the cloth soaked with chloroform into her mouth and nose. Her struggles slowed and she became dead weight in my arms. I dragged her to my car and carefully laid her in my trunk. Clouds moved away from the sun and light glistened on her pale skin and lit her red hair so it looked on fire. So peaceful.

He drove us to our house and brought her to the basement.

I realize now he's added chains to the wall. He strips off all of her clothes and, my god, she was beautiful and a true redhead. Her nipples were a soft pink and her skin so creamy. He set her into the chains and she looked like a rag doll.

"Please don't do this. Why are you making us do this? Wasn't the last time enough?'

"You started this. I'm just feeding your real desires. You enjoy this as much as I do.'

"When I came to it was Horrendous. She was still chained to the wall looking like a rag doll. Only now all twisted and broken. Yet, so". beautiful. Eyes closed, long dark lashes lying along her cheeks. Lush bruised lips, parted slightly. Perky tight breasts, shiny with sweat and blood. Her pale body a canvas of splattered red. Her stomach slit open, from under the ribs to the base of her abdomen. Intestines hanging down like lifeless serpents. Looking closely at her gaping wound I could see a shimmer. A blade peaking through her torn body. Following it down I could see that he rammed a large knife through her pussy. I dropped to my knees and cried. Not for what had been done to her but because he was right. The psychotic fucker was right.'

"Right about what?'

"I was so turned on by the scene that I left the basement as it was so I could go find someone to fuck. I cried because I was losing the fight in my head.'

"Blood dripping down the walls, a fresh corpse lying in the middle of the floor. I'm so turned on by these sights, at this point; I just kept a vibrator in the room rather than trying to find some dick. It was so much easier that way.

I would just lay down next to his newest kill and go crazy. My orgasms were never as good as when I was in that room. How sick and fucked is that? I know its wrong, yet it was the best feeling in the world. Replaying his memories of rape and torture would bring me screaming and shaking. Once I damn near had an out of body experience from one it was so strong.'

"Did this become a regular occurrence?'

"Damn near every time.'

"What is your take on it?'

"I don't fucking know! I'm nuts, just like him.'

"So for you, even now, he's still a separate entity?'

Yes, of course. He still feels separate.

"You can still feel him, he's still with you?'

"Doc, you can't honestly tell me you'd thought he'd leave? He can't leave. He wants control and won't stop until he has it.'

"How does that make you feel?'

"Like a thief in the night he comes for the innocent. Cloaked in a face of light and darkness. He tricks you in the light but when darkness falls he rapes your soul and feeds on all the good inside. He'll rip open your body from groin to neck and bathe in your blood while laughing at your pain. He'll climb inside and play with things not meant to be touched. He'll tear open your intestines and wrap them around his nakedness. He'll burrow deep inside and curl around your soul; like the softest kitten you've ever held.

He's deceiving, conniving, manipulating. He'll perform horrors on you that you couldn't possibly imagine. He'll bring you to hell to play and make you beg for the release that only death's embrace can offer. He's sadistic, psychotic, neurotic. He'll prolong your suffering to increase his own joys and pleasures. He'll cum on your face while using your blood as his lubrication. He'll tear out your eyes just to play with them He'll do all this with a smile on his face. He's the sickest, most demented fuck you'll wish you've never met.

How does it make me feel to know that he's still lurking in my brain? To know that he's waiting for me to make one little mistake? Scared, so very scared.'

Sir George was taking over so frequently it was as though I wasn't even there. Except for the cleanup, of course.

"Why is that?'

Are you kidding me? Once the rush was done and he got off, the aftermath disgusted him. He wanted nothing more to do with it. I remember this one incident we did"

She was a belly dancer. Beautiful, so very beautiful. And the way she moved was amazing. The sway of her hips, the controlled movements of her arms. Amazing. Long black hair. Chocolate brown eyes. Once he saw her I knew. I got excited myself. She followed the beat to the music perfectly.

He of course took over and convinced her to come back to our house, as usual.

What he did when we got there was damn near a fucking masterpiece.

We chained her down and that's when it all got interesting. (sitting in a kneeling position extreme excitement while explaining this scene: joy on face)

We took a scalpel and sliced open her thighs. They parted like butter. A river of blood started to run down her legs. Her screams were muffled by the ball gag in her mouth. We took some clamps to hold open the skin while we worked. He started to slice and pull pieces of the muscle out. He sat on her chest and showed her a piece.

"Isn't it beautiful? Look at what your hard work has accomplished.'

She started to cry as drops of her blood dripped from the meat onto her face. He was holding it with his finger tips as though it were a dead fish in his hand. He turned around still sitting on her chest. He took the clamps out and began tearing skin and muscle from her leg. He went nuts with it. He began throwing the pieces all over the place. He picked up a dull knife and began jabbing it into her stomach. Over and over again. Threw that across the room and went back to tearing her apart with his bare hands. Fleshy pieces were flying through the air. SPLAT! SPLAT! SQUISH! Everywhere! Tearing at her face. Her screams coming through the gag. When he was through she looked as though a pack of wild animals had gotten to her. The once beautiful woman chained to my floor was now unrecognizable. Now she lay torn and broken. Flesh strewn about like so much trash. It was fucking artwork. When the adrenaline faded, I was still on top of her, bits of her body caught in my fingernails and some stuck in my hair. Chest heaving I realized Sir George had retreated to the darker recesses of my mind. He'd freaked himself out at how far he went this time. Normally he'd hang out and taunt me as I cleaned up, but not this time.

I still don't know what bothered me more, the fact that he scared himself so badly or the fact that I enjoyed it more than he did.

We didn't always just kill together. We had some pretty interesting times with one another. There were moments when he and I would just go have a normal evening together.

I remember this one time he mentioned he never really got a chance to truly enjoy the snow because he showed up so late in my life. He didn't really make an appearance until I was an adult. Of course by that time I was done with trying to enjoy the winters.

It was November and it had started snowing. It was such a beautiful night. The moon was full and bright white. The sky was a velvety black with diamonds strewn across it. Not a cloud anywhere to destroy the view. The trees were naked of all their leaves and looked like skeletal hands reaching towards the sky. The snow was soft and crunchy. The air was crisp and sharp. You could feel the cold entering your lungs. See your breathe leave.

We walked through the trees for a bit then decided to make snow angels together. To be honest, it was a lot of fun. Too do something so innocent together. There was no stress, no anger. It was one of the best moments in my life. I felt free, light as a feather. Like a breeze could come up and I'd just float along with it. A leaf on the wind.

The only thing that blackens that night is a vision he shared with me. A woman naked, lying facedown, blood staining the snow.

What surprised me the most; he actually apologized to me and took it away. He was enjoying himself as much as I was. It was a great feeling. We took the long way home to stretch out the feelings of contentment as long as possible.

It's in moments like those where he was able to weaken my resolve. In those surreal moments my walls were slowly breaking away, but at the same time in those moments I really didn't care. Those are the memories I look to when things get really bad. Sometimes, when I'm in a mood, I think those memories alone are worth the havoc and destruction we have wrought. Of course I realize those are bad thoughts, but at the same time"

What to do? What to do? Where did you go? I'm bored. I have no one to talk to anymore. I'm starting to wonder if you've truly given up and left me alone. I thought you were so stubborn and you would always be there trying to take over. Where did you go? Did you really give up so easily? Where the hell are you? Come out and talk to me! What happened to wanting me? Always being my friend, never leaving?? What the FUCK am I supposed to do now? They think I did all those "those"horrible things. If you leave then what do I do?'

"Realize that you need help and let them help you.'

"Oh, thank god, you're still here! Please don't ever do".'

"I have to go now.'

"Why are you leaving me?'

"You and I both know I was never really here. You may have created me but you don't own me. Everything that was done, you did it. Your hatred of weak women has distorted your view of the world.'

"So what? That's it!? Your going to go now and leave me to pick up your mess one last time?'

"You of all people know how much I hate the clean-up. Besides, if you really didn't want to hurt those women you never would have. By creating me you were hoping to have a scapegoat and sorry love, I'm no one's patsy.'

(panels showing clips of previous memories, all without him really there(snow angel, her's Is the only one,etc))

"Oh dear god".., dear GOD what have I done?!'

(sir george fades/leaves the panel into his own world)

At the sand box in the backyard playing with army men and drinking a juice box a shadow appears behind a young boy. He looks up and a shimmer of light from the sun blinds him for a moment. After his vision clears he sees a man standing there.

Smiling, the man looks down at the boy, "Hello""..

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