I Found My Body in My Husband’s Basement

I found a secret dark room in my husband, Dr. Julian Thorne’s, study. Inside, dozens of glass jars held specimens of my body parts. From a fingernail he’d snipped when we first held hands, to a strand of hair he’d collected after our intimacy last night. And in the center of the room, a recording device looped my own voice. “Help me, Julian, please, no, it hurts…” It was the recording of my pleas from the operating room when I had my unexpected miscarriage last month. Just as I was about to flee, a cold touch grazed the back of my neck. “Elara, you finally found it.” “Every time you cry, I want to turn you into the most perfect specimen.” My blood ran cold. Suddenly, another woman’s seductive laugh cut into the recording: “Julian, when will you get me your wife’s vocal cord specimen?”

I spun around. Dr. Julian Thorne stood at the dark room’s entrance, a scalpel in his hand. “You… you’ve been collecting these all this time?” My voice trembled. “Since our wedding day.” He took a step forward, his movements silent on the floor. “You said you loved all of me, including my professional habits, remember?” I was a medical student, and he was the youngest forensic professor. Our union had once been called a match made in heaven. But now, I just felt sick to my stomach. “What about that recording?” I pointed at the device in the center of the room. “The recording from the day of my miscarriage, why is Serena Bellwether’s voice on it?” Serena Bellwether was his ex-girlfriend. She had returned from overseas three months ago and started working at the same hospital. Julian stopped, the tip of the scalpel resting against his fingertip. “Serena is just interested in my research.” He said it nonchalantly. “She wanted a complete vocal cord specimen for a teaching model. I thought yours would be perfect.” “Perfect?” I almost laughed through my tears. “Julian, I’m your wife!” “So?” He tilted his head, a dismissive smile playing on his lips. “Elara, you’re too emotional. Science requires sacrifice.” He took another step closer. I instinctively recoiled, my lower back hitting the cabinet displaying finger specimens. That little finger in the jar still had my favorite nude pink nail polish on it. It was from a cut I’d accidentally gotten while cooking last month. “You want to turn me into a specimen? Like those corpses?” Julian smiled. But now, I just felt a chill run down my spine. “You’re different from them.” He spoke softly. “You’re a living work of art, and I will make you my most perfect masterpiece.” His hand reached for me. I screamed, shoved him away, and rushed for the dark room door. But it was locked. “Let me go!” I pounded frantically on the door. “Julian, you’re insane! This is illegal!” He hugged me from behind, his lips against my ear. “The law only protects the living.” “And here, to me, you’re already a beautiful corpse awaiting dissection.” I struggled violently, my nails scratching his hand. Beads of blood surfaced, and he actually lowered his head to lick them away, his eyes filled with a disturbing fascination. “Even your struggle is beautiful.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, time’s up.” Before I could ask, I felt a sharp sting on my neck. A needle pierced my skin. A cold liquid pushed into my veins, and my limbs began to go numb. Before my vision blurred, I saw the dark room slowly open. Serena walked in, wearing a nurse’s uniform and pushing a cart of surgical instruments. She leaned over me, her smile cruel. “Elara, don’t worry, Julian’s technique is excellent, it won’t hurt.” “Once you’re a specimen, you can stay by his side forever.” Julian took the scalpel she offered, its blade resting against my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. In my final moments, I heard him say: “In your next life, don’t be my wife again.” “What’s too easily obtained is always tempting to destroy.”