Malcolm Chisel: psychopathic “baby” killer is a man who's lost touch with reality. As a weekly hobby he kidnaps little girls, tortures them and then brutally chops them into pieces. To him they are his little darlings, beautiful toys to be played with and then dismantled.
In front of him, both girls stood in obviously uncomfortable clothes, their eyes red and puffy from crying. There were lacerations all over their arms and some of their wounds were still open and bleeding. Across from them, Malcolm sat in his chair watching them, his eyes drifting up and down their bodies like they were pieces of artwork to be admired. One girl stood in a frilly dress with lace running over the shoulders while the other had been squeezed into a simple little satin gown. The gown was skin tight and the girl looked like she could barely breathe. Both were barefoot with dirt coating their skin and their toenails crudely painted.
“Don’t you just love dress up?” Malcolm said, “I do. It’s a chance for you girls to look your absolute best!”
The girl in the frills sniffled and said nothing while the other continued struggling to breathe. After a moment, she collapsed on the ground and started wheezing. Malcolm frowned at the downed little girl and stood up.
“Surely someone told you,” he said.
He walked over to her and knelt down at her side. Then he hooked a knife right into her shoulder and lifted her up. She screamed loud and wild. Tears flooded from her eyes as her skin was pulled and stretched. Blood rushed to the new wound and stemmed around the edge of the blade.
“Beauty hurts my beautiful darling,” he said, “And if you can scream this loud then surely you can breathe.”
After the last word, he tore the knife out of her shoulder, ripping a new scar into her body. She hit the floor again and cried out in pain. The other girl whimpered and tried shimmying away from the scene. Malcolm snatched her by her throat and threw her down beside the satin girl.
“Both of you look beautiful but I’m bored of dress up and neither of you have enough spunk for a play,” he said, “oh my beautiful, beautiful darlings. I’ve grown bored of you already.”
On his last word they both started screaming and crying. Both girls knew what it meant when he got bored. They’d both seen it all over the news before he kidnapped them. The bodies of so many girls still around their age being found beaten and cut into pieces.The girl in the frills’ name was Megan, her mother had tried to keep her from seeing such things on TV but she saw it anyway at her uncles. Never did she think she’d be one of those girls. The other’s name was Jacquie. One of her friends had claimed to be the one who found one of the cut up bodies. Together they’d told little ghost stories to scare some of their classmates. Now, she’d be a ghost soon.
Malcolm went back to his chair and picked up the ax resting beside it. There were still encrusted blood stains around its edges from its last victims and a strand of hair stuck to the handle with dried blood. It was a horrid, disgusting looking tool but its effect was powerful. The girl’s eyes locked onto it and they both went into a panicked frenzy. Megan rose to her feet and tried to runaway. Some of her wounds reopened but she didn’t care. Malcolm lunged forward and grabbed her by her hair. She screamed and struggled against him, kicking and slapping at his arm. In a fit of rage he threw her back down on the concrete and swung the ax. The blade cut straight through her calf and struck the concrete beneath it.
“Now look what you’ve made me do,” he said amidst her screams, “you were a good girl so I was going to put you to sleep but now you’ll just have to stay awake.”
Jacquie had passed out. Malcolm shook his head in dismay and began swinging. Blood splattered his clothes as the blade of the ax beat into Megan’s flesh. She cried out with each strike, her face coated with tears. After he’d dismembered her legs she passed out from the pain. He started on her arms and right as he cut the elbow, her heart stopped. Her breathing slowed to a halt but he kept cutting until her corpse lay in a multitude of bloody pieces at his feet. Once finished, he stepped back and admired the pieces. Then he turned to Jacquie and smiled.
The pain of the first blow woke her. The next few sent her screaming and flailing all over the floor. He stepped on her hand and crushed it before driving the ax down into her elbow. Pain lit her body on fire and she passed out again. After lopping off her arms he moved to the legs, striking the kneecaps first. She woke up howling and started kicking. In turn, the blade got stuck and Malcolm was forced to rip it out of her. Blood streaked across the walls and her screaming stopped. Her breathing had come to an abrupt halt and her eyes had turned glassy like a doll’s. Even so, he continued hacking away at her until she looked roughly like Megan, scattered all over the floor. Then he stepped back and dropped the ax.
“My once beautiful darlings,” he said, “We had fun. Now I have to clean up.”