Home » A disease-Giving Husband » The Silent Room – Chapter Six

The Silent Room – Chapter Six

Marilyn knew that she had quite possibly gone mad but she was driven by blind rage.  Her need for revenge was insatiable and nothing was going to stop her from getting that revenge…not even the Hippocratic oath.

She continued to work and people noticed a sort of aloofness about her but they attributed it to just being her own individual coping mechanism.  Considering what she had endured, they were surprised that she could function at all.

One night as she was drinking a glass of wine, something occurred to her.  She thought “how ironic.  This monster took the only thing I had left to live for but by doing that, he has given me another reason to live.”

The next afternoon, she administered a local anesthetic and looked at Nick.  She said “I’m going to take everything from you.  I think I’ll start with your left foot.”  Reverend Nick said “what do you mean?  What are you going to do?”
Her gentian violet ink marking pen indicated where she would start and end her incision.  First, she would cut through the epidermis, the dermis and then the subcutaneous layers of skin.  When she picked up the bone saw, Reverend Nick screamed “please, Marilyn.  Please don’t do this.”

She smiled and said “cutting through muscle and tissue is very easy when you have a sharp blade but cutting through bone is a little more difficult.  That’s what this is for.”  After she severed his foot, she carefully sutured and bandaged the wound.  She put his foot into a plastic bag and as she was walking out, said “I’ll give that a little time to heal.”

Nobody in the neighborhood thought it was unusual to see Marilyn planting flowers in her rather large yard so she was able to dispose of the foot without any suspicion.

After a month of healing, Marilyn told Reverend Nick that it was now time to take his right foot.  He angrily said “why don’t you just kill me.”

Marilyn said “you will find no comfort in death and your suffering will not soon end.  When you murdered my child, you sentenced me to a lifetime of suffering.  I have now sentenced you to the same.”

Every month, Marilyn took another piece of Reverend Nick.  His lower legs, his upper legs, his hands, his lower arms and finally, his upper arms were taken.  She carefully attended to each amputation to insure its proper healing.  Only twice did she have to shock his heart back into rhythm.

Now he lay there, just a torso and a head.  His limbs rested in the new flower garden she had planted in the back yard.

He had long ago stopped begging and crying and pleading his innocence.  As she removed the straps from his chest, she told him that he could try to maneuver himself off of the table but when he hit the concrete floor, he was likely to dislodge his feeding tube and the waste bags.  She said “if you do manage to get off the table and onto the floor, that’s where you will stay until the day you die.  I would advise you to stay on the table.  Remember, a body cannot suffer in sweet repose.”

Marilyn looked at him as she walked out and said “in the next couple of days, I am going to decide whether to take your eyes…and your tongue.  They can be taken from you on the table…or on the floor.”

The next day, there was a knock on her door.  When she opened it, Sheriff Dodd was standing there.  He asked if he could come in.  Marilyn swallowed hard and said “of course.”  As she led him into the living room, she found herself looking at the door that led downstairs to the silent room.

Sheriff Dodd said “Marilyn, I need to talk to you about something and I’ll get right to the point.”  She could feel her pulse quicken and wondered if she said “okay” out loud.

He said “we found him.  We found the man who murdered Erica.  He’s in custody and is being booked right now.  We have irrefutable evidence and he just made a full confession.”

Marilyn?  Marilyn?

 
Slutet.

 

 

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