"therapy for a copy cat (inspired by the artista)"

​by C. Ikpoh

So there I am, doctor, her warm, supple body in my hands. All of her weight was hanging there - dead weight. She was motionless, lifeless, but warm. Her skin still carried the scent of a field's breeze in the spring. I always thought when I held my first corpse it would be cold, and that it would smell like decay. I was so naïve. Never did I think of the transition. She was still who she was a minute earlier, just without the life she so desperately begged for and clung to. I contemplated this amidst my feelings of remorse. Then, I looked in her dead eyes and saw my own reflecting back. There was a brave soul staring upon me. I saw the Artista. They inspired me to achieve what I never thought I could: I murdered someone to give life to something new. I actually did it. My angels left me and God had forsaken me, but I did not care. I had won my prize.

She was there in my hands, doctor, all mine. I was in love, and soon, my love became lust. She was giving herself to me with no resistance. Her lips gently conformed to the movement and pressure of mine. It was as if she knew exactly how to move in unison with my kisses. Quickly, things accelerated. Her breasts were in my hands. They were soft and plump as she laid still as to not disturb my enjoyment. Her backside was even more voluptuous. The surface of it blanketed the palm of my hand with each grope. The more aggressive I became, the more she reveled in it, as was evident by her head falling backwards. It was not long before I was to enter her; before I entered the body where still blood pooled inside her veins, and vital organs slept while floating between dead tissue. Her anatomy would need a warm, beating heart to thrust life back into her body before it became cold and clammy. I would gladly oblige.

Alas, that needed to wait. I would not rush our first time. I guess you can say I am prudish in my morbidity. I respected her more than ever. Never had we been on such a connected level. We absorbed each others' presence as I ran my fingers through her hair. The silken curls glided between each digit as if they were made to caress one another. Time froze, encapsulating each second to be remembered forever in the memory banks of my soul.

My entire life I had sought retribution for unjustified damnation bestowed upon me. I would seek for a way relieve the torture inside my head, doctor. Do you not see? She was my therapy. Alive she could never serve as such though. It was only in her death could this be. Holding her corpse, I realized I would finally be alright. The pain inside of me would cease. I had my love, and together we began our new journey.