So yeah, I may look like the bad guy, but it was worth it for the steamy thirty seconds I spent with Melinda alone. I’d thought about doing this with her for some time. You’ve never seen such a struggle before in your life, either. I bet she didn’t put up half the fight when Owens came to collect his just reward. All that squirming and whimpering, you’d think Helen Keller’s mom set her down on a hot stove. I have to admit, if half those thirty seconds weren’t spent restraining her gyrations so I could even get it in her, it would have been over that much faster. I made sure to get in a couple squeezes of her tits after I blasted my payload in her, because I forgot to do it in all the excitement. Nice and firm, fit right in the palm of my hand.
I didn’t even care that Owens was watching (and he looked at me distastefully, if you can believe that...what a hypocrite!). I should have been more worried that he’d try something, I guess, but I’d offered to develop film in his house, and having found out how close he came to discovery, he liked the sound of that. I’m sure it pained him to have to share the girls, but the guy was so spoiled anyway. He inherited the house, didn’t have to work for anything. I’m busting my ass for minimum wage, and he’s out joyriding, chloroforming flawless high school and college girls for an orgasm holocaust. Pretty unfair, if you ask me.
My hand’s about to fall off from reliving this great experience...and I’m getting tired of writing, too.
AUGUST 22
Oh, I said there were a couple differences from the pictures yesterday, didn’t I? It turns out Mr. Holier-Than-Thou can’t abide by the cost of feeding the girls, so he improvises. Chunks of flesh are now missing here and there from thighs and stomachs (Gray’s Anatomy note: the buttocks were left intact, thankfully). The good news is that the girls don’t have to worry about their stomachs eating themselves from malnutrition...the bad news is they’re experiencing self-cannibalism from the outside.
That was hardly enough to sustain them and keep them from looking like refugees from Auschwitz, though. It turns out there was a FIFTH girl, but she wasn’t local. Owens picked her up hitchhiking (they never learn, do they?). It probably got the whole thing started, such an opportunity falling into his lap. This is in fact how he figured out the high cost of living (as in keeping a sex slave alive), because he had to start buying for two. Then three, because he had to grab Cassandra Bittaker. Why do that if he can barely afford to keep one? Because he HAD to grab Cassandra Bittaker. Check back issues of the newspaper for her picture, and you’ll understand immediately. After some soul-searching (and coming up empty), Owens gave the hitchhiker one more for the road, then slit her throat from ear to ear. A good strategy move, when you think about it—Cassandra Bittaker sees just how valuable she is from his perspective.
Frugal as he is, Owens didn’t have a very big crisper. The fifth girl couldn’t possibly fit. One hacksaw and three hours later, though, Owens did the impossible. Now he had plenty of meat to keep the livestock fed awhile. He’s crafty, I’ll give him that much. It couldn’t last, though, especially when he kept bringing in more girls.
I made him swear not to carve on Melinda. I’ll feed her myself, if need be.
Today I got the privilege of doing the carving for the others, though. A few strips from Holly’s arms. I whittled all the skin from Lorraine’s toes (which contributed little, but the reaction was worth it). The soles of Cassandra’s feet, to prevent visible scarring. That was something! Peeled off like the skin of a potato. More bones in the human foot than you’d think. We’re going to need a new knife.
Did the deed with Cassandra and Lorraine today, savoring the coming fun with Melinda. Went off like gangbusters in Cassandra almost on contact, but held out for five glorious minutes with Lorraine. Still haven’t managed a bee-jay because of the duct tape over all their mouths, which seems unnatural (my not getting a bee-jay, I mean, not the duct tape). The pictures in the paper of Lorraine showed some of the most pouty lips imaginable. Friends and family claimed she wasn’t taken without a struggle, because she’s a tough one. I take that to mean that she’d bite a man off given half the chance. It sure wouldn’t be worth it to take the chance of those teeth.
So we’re gonna need pliers.
AUGUST 26
The political correctness of the papers is hilarious, and actually quite dangerous. Claire Newman is the fifth (known) disappearance in the past three months. Police do not want to attribute her vanishing to the same person or persons responsible for the first four, but they won’t reveal why. “We have some leads we’re working on,” claimed Detective Keene.
No one will state the obvious: the bitch was too ugly to fit the pattern! Cassandra, Holly, Melinda, and Lorraine were centerfolds waiting to happen. Claire was what happened when you pissed in a test-tube. She was (and I do mean past tense) one of those overweight women whose pounds congregate in one area—in her case, the ass. It looked like someone threw a blanket over a monster truck tire.
You wouldn’t insult your dog by feeding him the remains. Your basement-bound sex slaves, on the other hand...
You never know what might develop when you drop off some film and leave your address.
AUGUST 28
I watched Lissa through her window tonight. I thought she was going to undress, but the phone rang. I have to be completely silent during the summer, because she leaves her window up. Even the sound of a zipper might draw her attention, but that’s part of the thrill.
The phone call was for her. A new boyfriend, apparently. That was rather depressing. I can’t help thinking that if I was the one she was so happy to hear from, I wouldn’t need a basement of women to satisfy me.
Loneliness is vastly underrated.
I did my thing anyway, quietly as possible. They were still going on when I left. Then I went to buy a pair of pliers before the store closed.
AUGUST 29
We’re going through two and three rolls of film a day at Owens’. I develop film for under six bucks an hour for six to eight hours, then I go to his house and do it for free for a couple more. The upside is that I am already up to Binder Number Five.
Stock tip: buy as many shares of Vaseline as you can.
AUGUST 30
Owens is pissing me off.
Remember what I said about my goals? Lissa was at least the second reason I got involved in all of this. It’s been my plan to bring her to Owens’ from the beginning—or better yet, to have Owens bring her there himself. He’s got a great track record, six for six all told. Lissa has everything but a COME THROUGH MY WINDOW, ABDUCT ME AND RAPE ME sign on her house. It’d be nothing for him to do it.
But he won’t.
“It’s not the right time,” he said.
“What are you waiting for, a full moon?” I shouted.
“It’s just not the right time,” he said again.