She used a knife. It was clean or rusty, jagged with serrated, gripping teeth or cleanly-honed and razor-edged. It was thick and hefty or a sliver of a thing and it really didn’t matter the shape of the tool, it was the job it did that was important. She used the knife to cut out the parts that had anything to do with him. She used it to remove those things that didn’t fit anymore, or seemed ill-suited to the life she wanted to lead now.

A spot on her hip, the place his lips had been, it had to go. The pain burned beyond description or was almost unnoticeable, and she did it swiftly or slowly and with great, deliberate precision. But that part was gone and once it was done some other sections must also be made to go. There was a place on her arm, it had a largish freckle and once he’d stroked her there and so she cut it mercilessly away. Awkwardly she sliced at her back, where his hand had loved to rest, and the side of her face where he’d slid his thumb while he told her she was precious to him.

She threw the old parts into a bucket, and she thought it would be more fitting if it were stainless steel, but it was blue plastic and not fitting at all. The blood ran slickly down the plastic sides in little pools and rivulets, it didn’t stick or stain or smear garishly across a smooth metallic finish. It was too bad. But then another piece slapped into the bottom and joined the growing pile of parts she no longer needed, and she forgot about the material from which the bucket was unfortunately made. The cuts were all-consuming now, and satisfying in a way that she’d never before experienced. Her labia, of course, had to go—that was a given. She debated for a moment but ended up excising one nipple and leaving the other. You always needed at least one nipple, and he’d shown that special preference for the left. So it too slapped wetly against the growing pile of flesh in the blue bucket, and then she shifted delicately across the tarpaulin to reposition herself for the next cut—sliding precariously in her own blood as she moved. It was warm, but beginning to cool. As things had a tendency to do.

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This work by superBadGirl is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on a work at thegrandconspiracy.org.