Gift.

 

Now.

According to the carefully sealed letter,she had done it to herself as the evidence was to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt.

It was her decision and her’s alone,she claimed fervently as if lit by some internal fire.

It was her,and I quote ,”Tribute”.

The recipient of her gift was currently under heavy sedation at ( hospital name withheld ) My questions would have to wait. His nightmare had only just begun.

Neighbors reported seeing him receiving a delivery from a UPS truck at about 2 pm on ( date withheld ) at residential address ( withheld ).

 Between 2:17 and 2:25 ,neighbours then reported seeing the man run into the street screaming with what the  key witness first believed was paint dripping from his hands and smeared over his face. Witness made the call to 911 from her cell phone.

Dispatch operator -Police,fire or ambulance?

Witness- There is a man running in circles screaming his damn fool head off in my street ! The crazy fuck! He’s a mess too! I don’t need this shit!

Dispatch operator-Is he armed? Do not approach him if he is armed.

W-I don’t think he is but I can’t see what he has got…

D.O-Do not approach him.

W-It looks like… Oh my sweet Jesus! Oh god! (Screaming  man clearly heard in the  background)

D.O- Ma’am? Ma’am, you have to stay on the line, ma’am? We have traced your call.Try and stay calm.

W-Its,its….

O- We have dispatched the police to your location. Stay on the line whi…

(Call truncated.)

It took four officers to bring him down. One of the attending officers located the packaging, footage ,photographs and letter by the front gate. The ambulance attendant pried the rest of the contents from his hands, post sedation.

I bet he wished that he hadn’t.

I had so many questions.

How high had she been and on what?  How high would you have to be to do such a thing?

Sober as a judge it turned out.

Toxicology turned up no traces of numbing cream or of local anesthetic.No narcotics. Pure as the driven snow.Her pupils looked oddly focused in the video footage and the pictures.

No dilation. Just fierce and overflowing with, dare I say,compelling concentration

Calm. Our lady of the lost . Saint like.  Even with the hemorrhaging, the arterial spray that threatened to hit the lens (7:13 sec)  and very some difficult angles, her face was almost impassive but held in check,with,what was it? 

A great joy?

I think it was release.

She wanted witnesses to,what she called “My self delivery.” (2.43 sec.)

We bore it.

We bore witness.

The packaging involved alot of double wrapped plastic and was extremely well sealed. Immaculately so. After being dusted with dragons blood and held under the correct lights not one whorl or point match was found. Clean.

Gloves.Of course.

Print free. Not that it mattered ,we had her face on film. It was just procedure.

I tried to imagine the amount of pain she would have been in both during and after the procedure.Thus,the packing of the fruits of her sadistic labour became even more of a superhuman effort.  How had she stopped the bleeding?  How had she not lapsed into unconsciousness?

She worked fast.

Timed, the procedure itself was 17:13 sec  from beginning to end. The whole tape clocked in at 22:14 sec. 

Under half an hour to reap total destruction upon herself.

Half an hour….

Not including the packageing and I assume, the shipping.

I hung my head,closed my eyes and wondered.

Somehow, knowing that she would be what? 

Doubted? or just for or impact, who can say, she had lovingly taken pictures and filmed the entire procedure. Her “zeal” she wrote,and I quote “Must be taken into account.”

“You never should have doubted my dedication” she said directly to the lens (2:02 sec)

 And her dedication to the terrifying task that she had set herself?

Unquestionable.

Fig.1.

Here,the instruments laid out like jewels on a thick clean towel. White. She lingers upon them lovingly with a smooth close up. Look, Rubber gloves,latex free. Behold,Iodine. Swabs ,suture’s. A small hand held blow torch.A cornucopia of sharp stainless steel infiltrators.

Openers.

Fig.2-

Already threaded,a large needle,the kind often used to repair heavy fabric,rents torn in upholstery. From it’s blind eye, a long tail of thick ,waxy white thread.

Fig 3-

Mirrors. None matching in size nor shape, angled carefully in a watchful semi-circle on a large expanse of blindingly well lit cataract colored plastic.

Silver druids. Watchers.

Fig 4-

A  70 dollar a night no-tel motel in ( City location withheld ) .

Records show no lodging of noise complaints or irregular behavior. Security footage retrieved from the front desk shows her calmly smiling into the the camera while her check-in was being processed. Hair back, sunglasses pushed  on to the crown of her  head.

Completely identifiable.

Fig 5-

The letter.

“A flesh ode to my failure” she began. (  contents of documents restricted, further investigation pending.)

And so there it is.

And now we watch.

In HD on a big screen TV, we watched.

13 of us.

At 6:34 sec, 3 remained consisting of  myself,my stupefied and shocked superior and the head pathologist who talked us through the operation in somewhat awe struck and admiring tones.

The tape rewound itself with a gassy hiccup and commenced again from the beginning.

No one moved.No one said a word.

She turned to the camera and smiled.

“I love you baby,I love you so much ” she said

Legs parted, face glossed with sweat and determination, she began.

And we watched.

Helpless.