Miss Viola

I had to hurry. She was expecting me. Anxiety and frustration lurked in my body as I stared at the closed, silver doors. The anticipation was causing my fidgeting to begin. She hated it when I was late. Miss Viola was never late. “To be on time is to be Late. To be early is to be on time.” For four years she had repeated this to me, burning the phrase into the back of my mind so hot I could see the words when I closed my eyes.

I pressed the button again, knowing it wouldn’t make the elevator come any quicker. Force of an impatient habit, I suppose. I was so terrified of being late that I could hear the rhythmic symphony of my heart clearer than any sound coming from the bustle of the lobby. Every time I came to see Miss Viola, my heart betrayed me in such a way I thought she’d be able to hear it attempting to escape from behind my ribcage. She never commented on such a thing, though. It was possible she was simply being kind. Perhaps pretending not to notice. She was often compassionate about things such as this. The ding of the elevator released a flood of relief so strong I could feel the goose flesh pricking across the entirety of my body.

As I stepped in, thunder cracked hard enough the elevator vibrated, causing my knees to nearly buckle. I hated storms. Thunderstorms in the Kansas autumn were challenged only by those of the spring. I shuddered as I mentally shook what leftover fear of storms plagued my mind since childhood. Though I was still anxious, I couldn’t let any fear ruin today. I had thought about this day for years now. Night time dreams of it had followed me into daytime fantasies. And for a month I had been solid in my resolve. Today way the day. Although I had meticulously planned every detail, I was unable to account for the weather. I must say though, the storms aided my fantasies, terrified of them or not.

Another ding and I had to force my legs to work. My palms were sweating with the fantasy playing on repeat in my head. My throat was so dry I felt it would crack if I so much as tried to swallow my nerves.

Warm lighting and the faint scent of patchouli washed over me as the elevator doors slid open. The waiting room had a calming effect like no other. The bohemian, yet professional aura of her waiting room held was only a teaser to the bliss that was Miss Viola’s office. I walked over to the secretary’s desk, allowing myself to be calmed by the feeling of the room. A small woman with her curly red hair thrown into a quick bun on the top of her head looked up and smiled. Her chocolate brown eyes brightened with her soft smile as she greeted me. “You’re early Charlie. Lucky for you, you’re her only appointment this afternoon. I’ll go ahead and let her know you’re here.” She gestured to my usual spot and grabbed the phone from her desk. Her words were but a mumble to me as I focused on the little blue object I always carried in my pocket. My fingers flipped it around, feeling every curve and every edge. My fingers dug below my trinket to a small box I brought with me today. Today was the only day I would need it. I’d checked to make sure it was still there probably twenty times since I’d left my apartment. I was beyond paranoid about losing it. It was absolutely essential for today.

Excitement began to overrun my in anxiety as the thought of seeing Miss Viola today took over my mind. I flinched as a flash of light blared through the windows. The lights overhead flickered and I braced myself for the thunder I knew was coming. My petrified concentration broke as I saw her double oak doors swing open. My breath caught in my chest and I choked on the air that I was trying to take in. She was the most impeccable woman I had ever seen; and even though I’ve been seeing her for years now, the yearning I felt for her hadn’t diminished a bit. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of honey; each ringlet bouncing with every step she took. Her blue eyes lit up the room brighter than any light could ever dream to do. I could feel my smile widening as I took her in. My own eyes were mindlessly tracing the lines of her collar bones beneath her simple v-neck sweater that was a size too large. Violet was most certainly her color. Her sweater was beginning to fall from her left shoulder and my eyes fell to the floor at the sight of the freckles peeking out from underneath her collar. She was barefoot, as usual, and her baggy black pants left only her toes to be seen.

“Charlie,” she said with a smile, “you’re right on time. Please, go ahead and come on in.” The lights flickered once more, almost in sync with a crack of thunder that sounded right after. The lights took longer to come back on this time, waiting a few seconds to say hello to us again. I heard Miss Viola utter something about “this damn fall weather” as she turned back towards her office.

My fingers twirled the blue object in my pocket aimlessly. It always brought me comfort when I was nervous. A small reminder of who I could be. Another quick check for the box, and I was on my way.

Her office was large, but the décor brought a welcomed coziness to the room. The total bohemian aura was in full swing beyond her oak doors. I sauntered to my usual seat after gently shutting us in. A big, round chair that had ten shades of green scattered in its soft fur called my name, but I wasn’t ready to sit just yet. I caught my eyes lingering on Miss Viola’s hips as she made her way across the room to her desk. The way she moved was absolutely hypnotic.

She knew of my affections for her, but I knew we could never have anything more than a doctor/patient relationship in this lifetime. That was okay though, I understood the professionalism she had to uphold. Perhaps we could be together in that way in another life. No matter. Today was the day and I wouldn’t let such thoughts pull me down.

The longer I was in her office, the calmer I became. Though the fidgeting refused to come to a halt. I kept my blue charm in my fingers, turning it every way possible. Running my fingertips across every surface before pushing it aside and pulling the box out of my pocket. Instinctively I passed the box to my left hand and shoved my other back in my pocket. The timing had to be perfect. The lid to my box flipped open with ease, and a small round button waited patiently below my twitching thumb. Miss Viola had only just made it to her desk when a brilliant flash of lightening lit up the city behind her. I smiled back at her, waiting for the sound to follow. A crack of thunder filled my ears once more, and with gentle pressure from my left thumb, sudden darkness encroached the room. Even though it was the early evening, the storm had brought clouds that made it near pitch dark outside. It’s absolutely amazing what a few small charges on an electrical box can do. Miss Viola was talking mindlessly from her desk; uttering apologies and complaining about the weather once more. I waited patiently, allowing my eyes the time they needed to adjust.

After waiting a few minutes hoping for the power to return I heard Miss Viola speak again. “Dammit. I’m sorry Charlie. Let me see if I have a candle or something to give us some light.”

There was no need for candles. My vision, now fully adjusted, tunneled on Miss Viola as she walked to a cabinet not ten feet from her desk. . My heart that had finally stilled began furiously pumping once more. Sending adrenaline through my veins with such vigor, I felt as if I could challenge God himself. I stood, and clicked open the little blue knife in my pocket. It may not seem like much to most, but it was more than enough for me. For four years I had been waiting. Watching. Learning about this woman. Following her home from work. Learning her schedule. I studied her social media accounts, and read her two books she’d published. She was absolutely brilliant, stunningly beautiful, and there was no doubt in my mind; she was the one. Pure perfection in human form. She had been assigned my case four years ago when I turned 18 and was released from the asylum in Breckenridge.

She wasn’t at all like the women I had stalked before. Not my type they thought. Quite opposite I will admit. Yet, as I grew to know her, I found they couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her back was to me as she bent to look through her drawers, leaving her backside immaculately exposed. As alluring as she was, even in the dark, that wasn’t why I was here. Not in the slightest. I was cautiously quiet as I tiptoed my way over and waited behind her, listening blissfully as she muttered curses under her breath. Her voice was melodious. Exasperated, she stood with a huff.

Finally.

My hand was around her throat in a second, crushing her larynx instantly. Nothing more than a small squeak escaped her lips. My knife traced her spine, searching for the correct vertebrae. Her body went limp the moment my knife pierced her flesh. Two long, white candles fell from her hand onto a plush rug beneath her bare feet. I was in a state of joy I hadn’t felt in years. No more anxiety. No fearful thoughts breaking through every possible wall I could think to build. There was only Miss Viola. She was mine now. I only had an hour, but she was mine.

The metallic smell of her blood left me quivering with excitement. For nearly forty minutes I was able to play with her. Turning her untouched skin into my own Rembrandt. Lines, dots, and patches of red covered her torso and legs. Thin trails of crimson followed her downward curves until they met beneath her, pooling on the floor. She was strong. Much stronger than I had expected. She couldn’t scream, nor could she move. But where I had saw fear in one pair of eyes before, I now saw pure rage seething from hers. God, she was a wonder of a woman. Her rage fueled me more now than the fear I had seen in Tiffany’s earthly irises. Being with her in this way was rapture.

In a split second, my work of art came to life in a new spectrum of color when the lights suddenly came back on. I stood there in awe, mentally tracing every delicate cut adorning her body. Silently thanking the men who had started the backup generators. She was more beautiful now than she had ever been. And she deserved to know.

“Thank you, Miss Viola, for everything you’ve done for me. For the masterpiece I’ve been able to create because of you. I must say, you look absolutely ravishing. I couldn’t have worked up the resolve to act on my desires once more if it hadn’t been for you.” Her eyes, still full of rage, showed slight confusion. I hadn’t been locked away for the artwork I had created once before, but for stalking a line of women. Attempting to pick my next canvas. They never did find Tiffany.

“You’ve built my confidence higher than it’s ever been. You really have made me a stronger man. Thank you.” I pulled out my phone and snapped a few photographs. Taking my time to cover every angle I could manage with her body propped against her cabinet. I offered reassurances on just how stunning she looked in red. I had waited until Tiffany’s eyes were lifeless before I took my photographs last time. But I wanted to capture Miss Viola’s eyes while she still had fight behind them.

When I was finished capturing my work, I squatted down so I could look into her brilliant blue irises once more. Her eyes went wide as I gave the knife one final, slow plunge into her beautifully decorated neck. My face was inches away from hers, watching the rage and pain fight for dominance behind her turquoise eyes. With one pull of my knife I watched the glorious waterfall of scarlet pulsating from her neck out of the corner of my eye. I dared not look away from her face as her gorgeous lids began to droop. Even with the life draining from her, she kept her rage filled eyes on mine until the last ounce of life was gone from her majestic body. I smiled to myself as I stood. Even in death, she was angry. Even in death, she was perfect.