“Would you like some whiskey first?” he asks.

“No, let me just show you how sorry I am,” I say.

“I remember you resisting far more,” he smirks.

“I’m grown now, daddy, I know what’s required of me. May I?” I ask, as I slowly push him to the bed, holding handcuffs. He agrees, he can’t wait.

“I also don’t remember you being this kinky,” he laughs, his stomach shaking as he does.

“Things change,” I say. He’s handcuffed, both hands to the bed.

“Come now, come play with daddy,” he tells me, I can see he wants me.

“Just give me some time daddy,” I laugh, seductively.

I take out my knife; my very sharp knife.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asks, trying to free himself.

“What I should’ve done long ago, Fingers,” I say, slowly trying to cut off his middle finger. He screams. I put a sock in his mouth and sellotape over. I cut off all his fingers, one by one. He watches, tears streaming down his cheeks. A taste of his own medicine, I think.

“I’ll make this long and slow. That’s how you always liked it, huh daddy?” I ask him. He doesn’t respond. Oh wait, he can’t answer me, he whimpers like a dog.

“Oh stop making that sound,” I look at him, “I’m doing work of art here.” I laugh.

One by one,I chop off his body parts. Each time, I cut one body part off, I think of each time he walked in the room I slept in and raped me. How many times did I beg him to stop? He never did.

After three hours he goes still. He’s dead. And I feel relief wash through me. I leave him there on his bed. He doesn’t have private parts; he’s just an empty man. His eyes are wide open, bloodshot, in fact.

******

I get into my car. I take the gloves I am wearing off and drive to the Free State. People don’t know me there. Police won’t find me. Nobody knows I exist. Home Affairs doesn’t know I exist. They can look for me, but they’ll never find me. I’ll carry on with my killing spree. Nothing can wash over the hate I have for men.

As I leave Durban, I almost feel sorry for the men I’ll come across in the Free State.

***

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