Chapter 1

"I never expected it would come to this."

8 mundane words echoed against their speakers ears as if spoken by the voice of jet engine. The pain of a simple thought flashed for an instant in the cold blue eyes of what, by any estimation was an ordinary man. He looked to be in his mid-20's, a crooked nose, from being broken one too many times, skin that couldn't grow a full beard or anything past a goatee to save its owners life, and thin sandy brown hair, obviously poorly maintained, a bit overgrown. In his life, he had been considered special, he had never been the center of attention, he had never inspired others or even been very well remembered. Yet here he was. Covered to the elbow in a rich, vibrant red that, honestly, kind of brought out his eyes.

He takes another swing, the red meets his his collar, freckles his face.

A deep breath. Emotional compression.

It was a term he decided on as a teenager after overhearing dad explain what an audio compresser does.

Another deep breath.

The highs are brought down lower while the lows are raised higher.

Only allowing sound to exist within and acceptable range of volume.

With everything inside himself reaching a manageable level, the blue eyed man looked outside of himself, focusing on the murky work. Measuring the legs, arms, torso, he could probably carry them out 10 pieces, wrapped in waxed paper. The organs would be a small issue, aside from the intestines. That's the worst part, as it turns out. Death doesn't smell, not really. Life does. We spend our entire existence on earth hiding it washing, flushing, shitting in silence. As if that makes it not real, As if it wont spill and ooze out in the end for someone else to clean up. That's why Hospice reeks like boils and puss, but ironically, a morgue? light chemical ambience. Refreshing, really.

2 Hazel eyes look up at him in shame.

"Don't worry honey, I'll clean you up"

"No one will know"

"I'll take care of you"

His name is David Tuevel.

Laying in his arms, separated from her own is his loving fiance, Jenny. Or she would be had her heart continued beating.

Another swing.

The work continues.