The killing of Ornella

I am starting to get bored of Paris…and longing for my partner in crime. I am studying for my French thesis but really Dieter gave me my master in cruelty. I was…am an apt pupil. Now it is daylight, all my night terrors have disappeared. There is no ghost, only decay. Death is a material fact. I run myself a bath and wash myseft thoroughly in the foamy water. I close my eyes and think of Ornella. Yes I hated that Italian bitch with her venitian curls, her arrogance and her Daddy’s money. She was a student at my college and thought she could seduce Dieter. But she was no match for either of us. We invited her to a candlelit dinner. I slipped a sleeping tablet in her drink. It was funny seeing her getting drowsy and babbling on. She was mostly unconscious when he strangled her with the rope and I held her. She went limp like a doll, her eyes opened wide. I washed her after the fact. Dieter wanted her nice and clean. I put cotton wool in her ears and nose. Her spirited body had departed but she could be our puppet. We kept her inside for a few days. We put some ice on her skin but still had to bury her in my parent’s garden after a while. At some point I cried, not too loudly, not deep sobs but I cried.

” Don’t get upset” Dieter said. “It was an act of love”. I said I was scared and he held me tight in his arms. We drank some champagne. Then we buried in in a shallow grave, in my parents Wiltshire property. And we made love over the muddy soil, over the musty Autumn leaves. We kissed for one last night over her dead body, soil matting my dark hair…nature triumphant. I had never felt so alive. But now she belongs to us forever.

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