Trophy Roast Arm

 He woke up in the basement, and he wasn’t happy. He didn’t deserve to be, he knows what he did, whether he made the connection that was why he was here was another matter, but not my problem, we’d have plenty of time to jog his memory later. He was gagged so he couldn’t make a sound, although he was definitely trying to. It didn’t matter, the basement was soundproofed, and we were miles away from anyone, the gag was just because I didn’t feel like hearing from him right now, but again, there would be time for that later. His legs and right arm were tied tight with rope so he couldn’t move them, which held him in place in general. This left his left arm free, but not for long. Actually, his left arm was strapped with a belt above the elbow, I had a plan for this part, this was going to be my trophy.

Yes, this man was going to be my victim, he was going to die, but he would die slowly, one piece at a time, and when it was done, this arm would be all that remained of him. Well, some of it would remain as a trophy, some would not. But first, to isolate this piece. The strap was tighter than a tourniquet and his blood flow had been limited for long enough that he probably wasn’t going to have much use of that arm anyway, it was verging on necrotizing, he definitely didn’t have any feeling, not much anyway. I had just been waiting for him to regain consciousness so he could feel the first cut.

I had been sharpening the blade of my meat cleaver, it was razor sharp.  I aimed held his hand, kept his arm straight and taught, and with one slice through his elbow, straight through the ligament, his arm was now cleanly severed from his body. He tried to scream through the gag, and he was loud enough that I could hear him, he even cried, understandable, expected even, I relished his pain. Again he deserved this, he deserved no mercy.

He was bleeding, not too much, the tourniquet was slowing it, but not stopping it, I hadn’t tied it as tight as I thought and had hoped. Fortunately I prepared for this with gauze bandages to wrap his arm so he wouldn’t bleed out. I didn’t want him dying, not yet, I had plans for him, and I wanted him to experience every step of this process. For now, he was going to feel this pain, I wanted him to feel this pain, the whole point was that he would feel this pain because he deserved this pain. He had earned this pain, and I would not spare him.

I took the arm back upstairs to the kitchen, turned the oven up to 350 degrees to preheat, and then, in the sink, I carefully skinned the arm. I peeled it slowly, prying it loose from the flesh, I didn’t want to damage it, this was the one part that would remain, I wanted it pristine, as perfect as the crime that I was committing. I set the skin to the side and put the meat in a roasting pan. Of course I had made sure to procure one that would fit this cut of meat perfectly, I was meticulous about every step of this process. I added some garlic salt and basil, my go to combination of seasoning. I made sure to rub the entire surface, I really wanted to soak the flavor into this meat. I filled in the space around the edges of the pan with carrots, broccoli and potatoes. When the oven was ready, I put my dinner in to let it roast while I got to work on the trophy.

I carefully placed the skin in a large jar of distilled water to begin the soaking process. The jar was sized right too of course, I didn’t want to get anything wrong. I put the jar on the lid and sealed it to place it on its side without leaking. I stared at the skin in the jar for a moment, floating in the water. Slowly the traces of unwanted extraneous flesh would weaken and fall off from the inside and the blood would be cleaned off from the inside. When the time was right, I could remove the skin from this water and then begin the liming process to remove the hair and nails. This would take time, at least until tomorrow. For now, it was just a matter of time to wait until the meat was done cooking.

I gave it forty-five minutes, I thought thirty minutes, but this was the first time I was cooking human flesh, I wanted to give it time to be cooked properly through. I removed it from the oven and let it rest for ten minutes before plating it and taking it back to the basement. I wanted him to watch me while I enjoyed my meal. There were so many ways to torture someone, so many forms of suffering, and I wanted him to feel every single one that I could imagine.

I cut the meat free of the bones and using my fork I savored each and every bite. I found it a little dry, perhaps I had given it too long. I added some Worchester shire sauce and that seemed to do the trick. Still, not too bad for my first human roast. Oh the faces that poor man made as he twisted in agony realizing I was eating his arm, the way it slowly dawned on him that I wasn’t finished, I was only beginning. And I definitely wasn’t going to make this simple or boring on him. Oh no, this was the easy part for him, it was only going to get worse for him from here, so much worse. Yes, that pain in his eyes, his tears, made this meal taste better.

Once I had eaten the last of the meat and stripped the bones as much as I possibly could, I dropped them in a bucket of chlorine bleach. I had some plans to do some art work with them later, that is if I hadn’t overestimated the bleach to degrade the bones too much.

I looked at the poor bastard as I left him in the basement. I checked the ropes to make sure that they were still tied tight, I didn’t want my food to run away on me. If he hated today, he was going to hate tomorrow even more.