Things were looking up. I had just scored a spot in the first violin section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra right after finishing four years at New England Conservatory. I packed up all my things to start this new life on my own and moved to Salem, Massachusetts. Why so far from Boston you ask? Well, have you seen the prices of studio apartments in Boston? It’s ridiculous! Most people commute from outside of Boston to save some money, and what better place than Salem? I love the history; I’m a huge fan of witches and ghosts and anything else that you could see on Halloween. I moved into a small studio apartment in a somewhat shady area of Salem because lets be real, I’m a musician, we barely make enough for rent and food, so I decide to play it safe. It was halfway through the season and things were going well. Rehearsals are exhausting of course, and teaching lessons on the side for some extra cash takes a toll, but I was living a satisfying life and I had gotten used to living on my own. After a long dress rehearsal on a Friday night, I return to my apartment ready to crash on my couch and watch a few episodes of Criminal Minds before falling asleep. When I came to my door, it was partially cracked open. Of course I was a little freaked out, so I cautiously tried opening my door without making any sound to see the condition of my apartment. It’s not like I had anything valuable in there anyways. When I cracked the door open enough for me to see inside, everything was in place as I had left it. Maybe I was just freaking out for no reason? So I opened the door all the way to find a dark silhouette of a man standing in front of me. I started to scream when he put his hand over my mouth. “Shh! Silvia, it’s me! I came to surprise you!” “You nearly gave me a heart attack, Mark!” I laughed nervously. Mark was my boyfriend. We had been on and off for about a year because the long distance was challenging for us, as he lives back in my hometown in Pauling, New York. We were in that weird stage of a relationship where we didn’t really know where we stood, but we knew we still loved each other. “I’m so glad you’re here!” I exclaimed, and gave him a big hug. He nestled his head on my shoulder and embraced me back. “I brought sushi!” He motioned for us to sit down and share my favorite meal together at my cheap ikea table. I rush over to look at the food and excitedly start opening containers of sushi and miso soup. We talked about our favorite things and our relationship and he told me he wanted to be with me even though we lived far away from each other. Since it’s not too far, he told me he could visit once a month or so. I hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t eat anything the whole time we were talking. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask. “I had a huge lunch before I came. Maybe I’ll have a snack later,” he responded. I gave him a suspicious look. Being an Italian myself, it’s against my instinct to let a person pass up food. But I let it go. I was just glad he was here. “Wait a minute, how did you even get in here? I locked the door and it’s not like I have a spare key…” I wondered. “I talked to your landlord,” he explained, “he had an extra key and let me in.” “But you could’ve been anybody! A stalker or a killer or something!” I objected. “Nah,” he laughed, “I showed him that picture of us from when we went to Disney last Christmas. And some I.D. of course. Hey, do I look like a killer to you?” he asks defensively. I laughed back as he made an adorable puppy dog face at me, “Of course not.” I suddenly became very tired and decided to go to bed. He stayed with me of course, and I slept through the night like a baby. The next morning I wake up a little groggy and notice that I’m alone in my bed. Where’s Mark? I get out of bed and make my way to the kitchen where I find Mark holding one of my butcher knives and grunting angrily while cutting into something. I start to shake. “Mark…?” He turns around and smiles at me. “Hey babe! You startled me, you never wake up before ten! I’m just making some breakfast. Omelette with ham, cheese, onions, and green peppers. How does that sound?” I inhale the intoxicating aroma of food cooking and realized I had been worried about nothing. He was probably just cutting into a tough piece of ham. “Smells amazing!” I smile wide in anticipation for this delicious meal. Breakfast was my favorite meal of the day. “Here we are!” He places the dish in front of me and takes out the ketchup from the refrigerator without me even having to open my mouth. “You know me so well,” I smile. He made an omelette for himself too. I was glad he was eating. “How about a nice relaxing day in?” he offers. “Just you, me, and some Dexter?” I agree by nodding enthusiastically; my mouth was full of omelette. After a few episodes and popcorn bags, Mark takes the remote and turns off Netflix. I look at him. He looks at me. His hand reaches back into his back pocket, but before he could do anything, I slash his throat with a knife I had taken from the kitchen earlier. “YOU’RE. NOT. MARK.” I yell through tears as I slash him over and over again on his head, neck, chest, and genitalia. Eventually I stop crying. I start laughing. I’m having fun. I carve shapes into his face with the knife. I carve pictures onto his chest. I make long strokes with my knife to make nice vertical lines on his penis. I stab and poke and twist. “Pretty.” I carve into him until he is unrecognizable. You can barely even tell he’s a person anymore, if he was even a person in the first place. Don’t bother calling the cops. They won’t find any evidence. I’m Italian. I eat well. I kept the ring. “Pretty.”
Submitted August 11, 2016 at 10:01AM by sophiabellino http://ift.tt/2aU7guj nosleep
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