Carol, perhaps, had the most gruesome death of all the pitiful people who died in the course of this entire report. Though we can a.s.sume that the reason why the man loathed this death the most is not because of the b.l.o.o.d.y nature of it all but because he was not the one who caused it. He was not in control. It was not part of the plan. The tube went out of Carol's chest, crus.h.i.+ng her ribcage and along with it, her heart. She managed to do this horrendous suicidal act by using a metallic tube lying around the man's kitchen. She then grabbed it with both her hands, so the end of the tube would stick onto the wall while the other end faced Carol's face. Then she wrapped her lips around the tube and pushed her body forward until the thin cylindrical steel reached her throat. After a moment of hesitation, she thrust her body forward while grabbing the tube with both her hands until it breached her throat. When she did so, the tube pierced through her chest, crus.h.i.+ng her heart. Additionally, since the tube was too long and the force she used to push her body was too strong, the tube winded up, breezing through her ribcage where it inevitably reached her stomach. The tube in question then pierced out of her stomach. Thus, a few centimeters of the tube was sticking out of her belly.

She crawled out of the bed while the man is away, took the tube with her mouth, and pushed it straight to her throat the same way she remembers it. She sucked the tube the way Subject 1 taught her how to take a man's member deep into her throat. Thus, the many lessons that the man gave Carol to satisfy his l.u.s.tful cravings inevitably became the spark that made her think about the prospect of killing herself.

At that time, the man felt like his spirit pa.s.sed along with Carol.

Seeing her with a large metal tube inside of her tiny mouth made him weep, but at the same time, his lower half hardened more than the metal sticking out of Carol's stomach. The man thought that he was still having lots of fun with her. Lots and lots of happiness while breeding all of her holes. It was such a shame that she's gone. Now, the man developed an extreme loathing when he saw tubes and the market, for it reminded him of the great time he had and could have had with Carol.

"Carol," The man whimpered as he took the chains off her body and embraced her cold dead body. "No, Carol. Carol, baby, no, no!" The man rocked back and forth as he wrapped her hands around Carol's cold skin.

For the first time, the man wept over the death of a person. He didn't cry because of the s.e.x, the joy, or the o.r.g.a.s.m, though it was part of the reason why his tears wouldn't stop.

He cries because Carol is dead. She's gone, but he's not done with her yet. He felt conflicted. Everything always has a milestone needed to be met, a quota, a requirement. The man knew that he still hadn't completed the amount of f.u.c.ks he could do with Carol before he got fed up with her. It's like reading a book, but you lost your copy of it after reading chapter 40 when there are still ten more chapters left. Losing her this way felt like playing a video game when you're about to reach the final boss, only for it to crash and never to return.

He carried the body of Carol onto the bed, once again covering the sheets with blood. For the entire day, the man slept with the corpse of Carol in his arms. The man cried for hours, feeling the coldness of his supposed sweetheart around his body. Touching her skin as if she's still alive, remembering her heat and her pained moans, the man sobbed as he felt that there's no more life, no soul inside Carol's eyes anymore.

Remembering how her body trembles both in fear and, later, in satisfaction and ecstasy is sweet.

When he woke up, he can still feel the wetness of the blood on his bed. Carol's dead eyes were still staring right at him as if till the very end, she still shows her utter despise towards him. Even without a soul, Carol's dead eyes would still send an electrifying feeling in the man's nerves.

As he looked at Carol's eyes, he realized that a lifeless body is a lot more vengeful than a wandering apparition. A lifeless body is tangible, seeable; it can make you remember the days you had with it when it's still alive. For him, that is the worst revenge someone could make, the painful memory carved on an unmoving carca.s.s of a withered flower.

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"You're so unfair, Carol." The man whispered as he feels Carol's skin warming up as his breath reaches her neck. "We're supposed to have more fun than this. You're supposed to be stronger than that. I expected a lot more from you. We could have made this work." The man exclaimed, his voice strengthening each sentence as he felt his rage rise.

The man knelt before the lifeless remains of Carol. He pulled the pole from her body; the sight of her crushed heart broke his.

"Poor Carol. Poor, poor, Carol, my everything, the only body I loved. The woman I mourned for, the only one, you're the only one who deserves these tears. Carol, Carol, my sweet, sweet baby. My poor Carol, who never asked any of the sufferings I gave. Poor Carol, who only wanted to make the world a better place with the smile of an angel. Poor Carol only minded her own business, but I had to come along and ruin everything. Poor Carol only wanted to love and feel loved. What was I thinking when I ruined this image of perfection before me? What did she do to deserve being kept captive by someone like me? Oh Carol, my sweet darling Carol, if I could turn back time..."

Funny how he's getting these realizations now. Funny how he only realizes all the effects of his horrible actions. It's even more laughable once you thought that he never really regretted everything he had done; he just really want some more f.u.c.k.

The man wept and bit his lips as he stares at his ceiling. Defeated and abandoned. His voice is raspier than before, and her long fingers move about, he doesn't even have control with himself anymore. He noticed this and balled his fingers into a fist. He clenched his teeth as he felt the sweat drip from all corners of her body.

He wanted to scream, but when he attempted it, the only sound that erupted from out of his lips was a silent yelp, like the sound of fingers scratching the surface of a rusty metal sheet. He wanted to have the strength to pull all the evil within him into a loud burst coming out of his mouth, but, like a curse, something prevents him from doing so. His blatant attempt to let his voice out, like a protest to himself, to G.o.d, and to everything around him, made his face redden as if it's a time bomb bound to disintegrate.

"... if I could turn back time, I'd do the same. Because that's what I am. A demon, a murderer."

The man then patted Carol's head, smelling her hair, but the only scent he could find is the stench of decomposing matter.

"Why did I even come here and ruin this innocent people's lives? What did these people deserve to have me?" The man roared as he slowly brushed his fingers onto Carol's cheek.

"Why am I crying? Is it because Carol is dead? Is it because I couldn't have more of her now that she's gone?" He said while still caressing his fingers on his cheek down onto his chin until his fingers reached her cold neck.

The man's eyes suddenly brightened, revealing a dreadful rage surging out of his gaze. "Well, I could just do it right here," he slowly gripped Carol's neck, feeling the thickness of the metal tube still inside of her body, but he didn't tighten his hold onto it, "I could desecrate her corpse more if that's what I want,"

He then released his hold of her neck, finally ridding himself of the strange sensation of holding a human skin but feeling like there was nothing but a metal tube on his hands. "What is the point if it's just an empty sh.e.l.l? It's just a dirty body; it's not Carol anymore! What is the point?"

The man laid both his palms on top of Carol's chest, not to fondle her breast but to feel if there's even a sliver of a chance for him to feel a heartbeat. A faint tear fell onto his eyes when he realized that he could only feel just another tube and a series of broken bones on her chest. What made him uneasy was the fact that her body was colder than the tube within her.

"Why am I crying? Is it because I couldn't have the enjoyment I had with her? Is it because Carol had the nerve, had the courage to do what I always wanted to do with myself?"

With the wrath of a thousand souls rampaging from within the h.e.l.l living underneath his human skin, the man forcefully grabbed the tube sticking out of Carol's belly. "Till the very end of Carol, the only thing I care about is me! I deserve death, and once I die, I will surely be swimming in the lake of fire where I will find Carol, and I will rape her again until Lucifer himself restrain me! Poor Carol."

He tried to pull the tube but to no avail. With all his might, the man grabbed the tube sticking out of Carol's belly to pull it out of her, but it wouldn't budge. He couldn't take it off her. It's like a part of her now, a tube that will remain in her body till she's nothing but weakened bones six feet under.

Now, Carol is lifeless, cold, stiff, and unmoved, like she had become the tube itself.

The next day, he buried the body of Carol in the middle of the forest, far from the town, far from the river, far from the century-old oak tree, far from everyone else... including him.

Funny how he learned his mistakes now, but deep inside him, he still wants to do more. Isn't it such a fun little contrast? A man who blames the person he oppressed for finally leaving the shackles of his own

The man entered a state of severe shock. Every night he feels as if he's drowning, every day feels like he's melting. Every time he eats, he remembers how Carol swallowed the tube she used to kill herself, and it would always make him puke his guts out. As he thinks about all the other things he could have done with Carol, he contemplated life, death, suffering, pain, and how he loved the idea of all of it, except the first one. The only comfort he had in these bleak days of his is an anonymous dashboard on the internet. n.o.body cares about what he has to say there, and it's exactly what he wanted.

n.o.body knows him. n.o.body wanted him. n.o.body can approach him.

n.o.body will die here because of him. n.o.body needs to care.

n.o.body will have to see another ravaged corpse.

n.o.body will die here.

n.o.body...

No body.

Around this period, the village found prosperity as their crops doubled, and their incomes sky-rocketed. Not to mention, the kills had stopped, and it felt like all of their deepest prayers were finally answered by the savior up above the heavens.

However, this paralyzing depression that almost crippled our soon-to-be employee is about to help him out of this pathetic phase of him. It's like being emo, you know? You'll gonna have to don yourself with all the sad s.h.i.+t you can find, and once you're over that phase, you'll still feel just as miserable, but at least you're not dressed like a clown anymore.

 For a long time, he contained himself inside this sh.e.l.l that he designed to be his home.

For a long time, he contained whatever murderous desires he held within, for he doesn't know what it is he had in his heart.

For a long time, he knew that the anger inside of him would never be quenched by escaping to the forest or leaving the city or talking to anonymous strangers online. None of that zoomer escapism will work, not even the boomer way of avoiding problems would work anymore!

He just needs to face reality: he wanted to kill people.

And now he wanted to do it more.

If the villagers thought he was the devil before, then I don't even know what he is now.

The man is not a devil anymore. He had already gone past that. Now he's human. Now he's part of us.