[Original] Your Hand In Mine

[seiskink]

Rating: R for violence
Warning: Body horror

“Don’t fall in love with me,” Ming said.

Jane thought it was the most cruel for him to reject her while having his hand on hers, a gesture which conventionally designated intimacy between two individuals. Then he leaned towards her and kissed her on the cheek before whipping out a knife to slice off the hand in contact with her skin.

What the ever-loving flying kinky fuck!?

 

The aftermath was just as swift as the happening. As he pulled away, Ming removed his dismembered hand and placed it in his bag.

“Can’t leave this lying around,” he chuckled. “Okay, see you around.”

It was all very casual. Efficient as Ming’s departure was, Jane still had the chance to glance at where Ming’s right hand was supposed to be and found that the wound had already closed. Furthermore, there was a lump of bone on the stump of flesh, evidence that Ming was definitely re-growing himself from the inside.

Jane smiled to herself. Ming’s attempt to make her fall out of love with him was a complete failure.

As Jane raised her mug to finish her last sip of coffee, she caught sight of the residue of Ming’s reveal—a spot of blood on the café’s otherwise spotless white floor. Jane ought to get out of here before someone thinks she’s a menstruating exhibitionist gone commando.

While travelling to her next destination, Jane passed by the boutique she used to work at a few months ago and was eventually fired from. Her crime was slacking off on her shift, spending the time while she was on payroll stripping the mannequins on display of the shop’s best wares and dismantling them limb by limb.

Jane was not in a hurry and thus had the luxury to pause on the sidewalk upon seeing her old boss, Mrs Tang, on the other side of the boutique’s window. She flashed her most winning “why so serious” smile. In a split second, Mrs Tang was sprawled on the ground as limp as a dead body.

Jane sneered at her prostrate form before going on her merry way. If the old bitch was indeed as dead as she looked, Jane wouldn’t hesitate in stepping over her to grab all the mannequins for herself.

Soon, without making anymore detours, Jane reached a warehouse manned by five or six Tiongs. She had only been there twice—the first time to inspect the wares and the second time to get the special equipment she needed to dispose of a certain human-sized pest.

She approached the Tiong at the desk and asked him in mandarin, “Excuse me, how soon can I rent the chainsaw?”

The Tiong checked the logbook opened before him and told her, “Tomorrow.”

“Great,” Jane said. “How much will that be?”

The Tiong raised his palm and extended all his fingers. Jane grinned and retrieved a fifty-dollar note from her wallet to reserve the chainsaw for the next day. As the Tiong was writing her name down in the logbook, Jane stopped him, abruptly inspired, and gave him more money to pay for additional venue and services.

Tomorrow didn’t come fast enough, but it eventually did. Jane had invited Ming out again for another private talk and their rendezvous point was a deserted alley from where they were supposed to take a short-cut to a restaurant for elites. Ming had arrived punctually without questioning the details for as far as he was concerned, Jane was just another lovelorn girl. He flashed her a sweet smile as she advanced closer to him, cardboard box in hand.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s in the box?”

Jane did not even give him time to brace himself. In a practiced swing, she brought the box down on the side of his head, effectively knocking him to the ground. She then continued to bash the box against his head in multiple strategic spots, having long thrown her reservations to the wind.

After a calculated period of time, Jane stepped back to give Ming a moment of reprieve. Her heart gave a leap upon seeing him making weak attempts to move and failing. Using her usual method to mess up a person’s motor skills was a risk she had to take, for there was the possibility of the other parts of his body being sufficiently disconnected to his brain to move independently. Thank god the fundamental laws of the human bodies still applied to this alien form.

With a snap of her fingers, Jane summoned a group of white-haired elderly consisting of two men and three women. All of them wore a belt with black pouches stitched onto it which contained the needles they needed to stick into various parts of Ming’s body. By the time they were done, Ming was the very picture of the archetypal human sacrifice.

“What—Why--”Ming struggled with words and finally settled on the question, “Who are these people?”

“Oh, these Ah Gongs and Ah Mas used to be acupuncturists before their eyesight went bad,” Jane explained. “It’s good to keep the elderly active, you know?”

“Wh--What are you doing to me?” Ming asked.

“Nothing bad. See, I got them to make sure that no part of your body can move at all and so you can’t make unnecessary movements,” Jane explained. “It doesn’t matter which parts you’ll lose now anyway, because you’ll be whole again the next minute.”

“Why?” Ming screamed.

“Don’t bother. I specially rented a place where no one can hear you,” Jane said. “Relax, Ming. Since I can’t give you a relationship, let me do this for you. You relax for me too.”

“Why?” Ming screamed again.

This time, Jane ignored him to pick up the chainsaw she had hidden inside the cardboard box. This was the cue for the elderly to leave and they disappeared into the shadows in unison.

“Can’t wait to have your hand in mine,” Jane growled in her Batman voice. She was indeed getting her Bale on today.

The machine whirred to life as Jane pulled the cord attached to it. The sound was akin to the tune of the most sublime love song.