gilesdereis
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Romans verse 10, chapter 19
From the expression of the dead man's face, he departed life unable to understand what was happening to him, even as it happened. The cooling corpse of the handsome, athletic young man sprawled lifeless on the bed, where the professional killer had dumped it. Dressed in boxers and a sleeveless white teeshirt, the victim had been surprised when the belt from his own pants had been slipped over his head, and pulled tight. His first reaction was to try to loosen the cord, which cut off his windpipe, and constricted blood to his brain, which meant both he couldn't cry out, except for a choking sound, and his blood restricted brain left him confused and unable to think clearly.
The killer had planted a knee against the small of the young man's neck, to hold the grip of the belt that looped around his neck, and the young man's efforts to dislodge the killing noose were ineffective. Within less than half a minute, the struggles of the muscular young man were weakening and losing any coherence. His powerful arms flailed with diminishing force against the unseen assailant, and, another half minute later, he slumped forward.
Still the pressure of the belt never slackened. The helpless man thrashed, as carbon dioxide built up in his lungs: the arms and legs flailed, his lungs desperate to get air. In another minute, the thrashing limbs and jerking torso gave up their last burst of energy, and the young man's body seemed to lose all internal power, like a balloon leaking air.
Only spastic muscular movements remained. The dying man jerked several times, but the spasms weakened, slowed and finally stopped. The body became limp, and seemed suddenly to become much heavier in the killer's grip. A third minute passed, as the inert thing that had been a strong young man dangled at the end of the leather noose.
Lifting the dead body, slick with the sweat of its final, futile exertions, onto the bed with the belt, its edge cutting deeply into the skin of the neck, the killer left the murdered man lying on his back, its head turned to one side, with the bloodshot eyes open and staring at nothing, and the swollen tongue lolling slackly from one side of the dead mouth.
Before leaving, the killer looked down at the freshly made corpse on the bed, and said, in a conversational tone that the just dead man should have known better than to try to sell out the Ramos family to the police.
It was the next day before undercover police officers, concerned that their potential informant had failed to make a meeting, came to his flat and found the, by then, no longer newly made dead body.
From the expression of the dead man's face, he departed life unable to understand what was happening to him, even as it happened. The cooling corpse of the handsome, athletic young man sprawled lifeless on the bed, where the professional killer had dumped it. Dressed in boxers and a sleeveless white teeshirt, the victim had been surprised when the belt from his own pants had been slipped over his head, and pulled tight. His first reaction was to try to loosen the cord, which cut off his windpipe, and constricted blood to his brain, which meant both he couldn't cry out, except for a choking sound, and his blood restricted brain left him confused and unable to think clearly.
The killer had planted a knee against the small of the young man's neck, to hold the grip of the belt that looped around his neck, and the young man's efforts to dislodge the killing noose were ineffective. Within less than half a minute, the struggles of the muscular young man were weakening and losing any coherence. His powerful arms flailed with diminishing force against the unseen assailant, and, another half minute later, he slumped forward.
Still the pressure of the belt never slackened. The helpless man thrashed, as carbon dioxide built up in his lungs: the arms and legs flailed, his lungs desperate to get air. In another minute, the thrashing limbs and jerking torso gave up their last burst of energy, and the young man's body seemed to lose all internal power, like a balloon leaking air.
Only spastic muscular movements remained. The dying man jerked several times, but the spasms weakened, slowed and finally stopped. The body became limp, and seemed suddenly to become much heavier in the killer's grip. A third minute passed, as the inert thing that had been a strong young man dangled at the end of the leather noose.
Lifting the dead body, slick with the sweat of its final, futile exertions, onto the bed with the belt, its edge cutting deeply into the skin of the neck, the killer left the murdered man lying on his back, its head turned to one side, with the bloodshot eyes open and staring at nothing, and the swollen tongue lolling slackly from one side of the dead mouth.
Before leaving, the killer looked down at the freshly made corpse on the bed, and said, in a conversational tone that the just dead man should have known better than to try to sell out the Ramos family to the police.
It was the next day before undercover police officers, concerned that their potential informant had failed to make a meeting, came to his flat and found the, by then, no longer newly made dead body.
