State Of My Kitchen

Originally Published in 2022

Cassie hadn’t expected to find some scruffy Asshole Burglar in her kitchen at the dead of night when she came downstairs for a drink, but there he was. His filthy boot prints were all over her nice, clean floor where he’d trampled across the garden and broken through the kitchen window. The dickwad had knocked the African violets off the sill too, as the vase lay smashed in the sink.

While startled, the Asshole Burglar didn’t seem particularly worried about being caught in the act. Although, at the moment, that act mostly consisted of breaking and entering, and maybe vandalism, as he hadn’t got around to the stealing-shit part yet because that bitch had decided to make a midnight snack run.

He couldn’t help but grin at her as she stared disapprovingly at him standing uninvited in her formerly spotless kitchen. Fuck her, he thought, as he eyeballed the homeowner, thinking maybe he’d have to do a little more than just steal shit tonight.

But while Cassie was indeed looking rather displeased at him being in her kitchen as she stood there in just her knickers and a thin see-through top, she didn’t appear to be overly worried. Sure, the Asshole Burglar thought while having a better look, she didn’t look like some tiny helpless girl, standing six foot tall and looking pretty muscular and lean. But, come on. He was hard as nails. Looked like a badass. And he had a knife.

She better start shitting her panties soon, he almost said aloud while trying to see if they were see-through too.

The Asshole Burglar took out his hunting knife to emphasise the very points he’d just been thinking, but Cassie didn’t go running for the hills or scream for help. Instead, he watched as she casually walked to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of water she’d come down for.

Opening the bottle, her eyes glanced towards the sharp knife.

Finally, she’s getting it, the Asshole Burglar said to himself, with his eyes now firmly locked on her erect nipples that practically poked through her skimpy top. Thank you, fridge, he also quietly thought.

But Cassie wasn’t ‘getting it’. Instead, she was thinking how pathetic his knife was. How the one she had at the end of her bed upstairs was far more terrifying. Still, at least he tried.

“What are you planning to do with that?” she asked the Asshole Burglar, knowing very well his response was going to be some lame innuendo as he stared a hole through her chest.

He didn’t disappoint.

“I’m gonna stick you with it,” he said, emphasising the word stick while licking his lips and ogling her from head to toe, with his eyes inevitably ending up back at her nipples.

“Where are you going to stick it?” she asked in a bored housewife manner that surprised the Asshole Burglar.

He didn’t show it, though. He had the power here, not this whore.

“Where do you want it?” he asked, taunting her as he tried to make his voice sound playful. Although his idea of play was extremely rough, and the nasty grin on his face backed that up.

“The bin,” Cassie replied, keeping the bored tone and unthreatened demeanour. “Maybe throw yourself in there too,” she added.

Who the fuck was this bitch? the Asshole Burglar pondered as he laughed to himself.

He thought he’d be in and out by now. Gone without a trace, if you didn’t count the muddy floor and broken vase, which Cassie most certainly did count. Instead, he was having a conversation with his victim. He was just being a prick at first, but this cunt had an attitude, and a great set of tits. Maybe she deserved a good stuffing, he mused as his wicked grin spread across his face.

“I wouldn’t be thinking that,” Cassie informed the Asshole Burglar as an absolute matter of fact.

“What?” he innocently replied.

“You know what,” she told him, making it very clear she thoroughly disapproved of his intentions. She sounded more like a mother reprimanding her disobedient child than someone being held at knifepoint alone at night.

He laughed to himself again. The uppity bitch certainly had something about her. He was beginning to like her. Maybe under different circumstances?

“If I was you, I’d clean my floor and jump back out the window,” she sternly told him, putting an end to his threats, or his fantasy that she secretly wanted him.

Now she’d pissed him off.

“How about I stick this knife up your pussy instead and watch you bleed all over your fucking precious kitchen floor while I rob the place?”

I’m in control, he repeated to himself.

Although he wouldn’t have thought that if he was aware of who Cassie really was.

Cassie tended to go by another name in these parts, not that anyone knew that. To most, she was that weird woman who kept to herself within the suburban cul-de-sac. Even the nosiest of her neighbours didn’t suspect her as the local slasher, no matter how peculiar she was.

But Cassie was, in fact, the Hillside Butcher. She had killed over twenty people in the local and surrounding area and had become the stuff of myths. An urban legend. A bogeyman to scare the teens straight.

It should have been bogey-woman, but no one suspected the Hillside Butcher to be a woman. ‘He’ was apparently far too strong and brutal for that. But he was a she, nonetheless. Cassie was doing her part for equality, and she was doing it well because everyone was fucking terrified of her like she was Jason Voorhees or something.

However, Cassie saw herself as someone worse than Jason. Jason was a killing machine, not human really. But she was human. She had a house. A cat named Sprinkles, who was hiding somewhere because the Asshole Burglar had startled her. A car in the driveway. She was the sort of person who came downstairs in the middle of the night to get a drink.

Could you imagine Michael Myers getting thirsty during the night and grabbing a bottle of natural mineral water from the fridge?

No.

To the outside world, she was normal, if not a little odd. And she did lead a pretty normal life too when she wasn’t brutally massacring people. But she fucking loved to kill. Hacking up teens and terrifying the locals was easily her favourite pastime. She was good at it too, as the Asshole Burglar was about to find out.

Cassie marched towards him before he had a chance to protest or threaten her in some other overly sexually aggressive way. He tried thrusting his knife into her gut, but she grabbed his wrist and snapped it like it was a twig.

He screamed in disbelief as he saw his wrist bone angled up towards his face, with his hand flopping underneath.

Cassie head-butted him to shut him the fuck up before his pathetic, chickenshit shriek woke the neighbours.

She dragged him to the kitchen worktop with ease as he started coming out of his daze. Cassie slammed his head down on the side, then yanked his trousers and boxers down. What the fuck is happening? the Asshole Burglar thought in a manic daze. Then he unfortunately found out.

Cassie grabbed his hunting knife from the floor and, in his own words, “stuck him with it.” Except he didn’t have a pussy, so his ass had to do. The Asshole Burglar didn’t really know how to react. Your body sort of knows what to do when someone punches you in the face or stabs you in the belly, but having a knife jammed deep inside your asshole?

He wanted to scream and cry because he was in the sort of pain the likes of which he’d never felt before, or even believed possible. Then again, he’d never had his own knife stuck straight up his ass before.

However, no sound escaped his mouth. The Asshole Burglar was in shock. He’d caused plenty of others to enter this state in his long, illustrious career as a lowlife scumbag, but he was now discovering the disconcerting and terrifying flipside of that equation.

Cassie pulled the knife back out, his asshole causing more damage on the way out than the way in as she ruptured what was left of his anus. And that was it for the Asshole Burglar. He blacked out. His last thought was hoping he never woke up again after being anally rape with his own knife.

… Oh, how naive it was of him to believe it would be that simple.

Cassie had never really caused any harm as “Cassie” before. She’d always worn her frightening red mask, black boots, and tattered cloak as she mutilated and killed in the guise of the Hillside Butcher. But she had to admit, she enjoyed the experience of maiming the Asshole Burglar as her true self. It somehow felt more light-hearted, if that was the right word. More daring, maybe. Or mischievous. Whatever the right word, it definitely felt different.

This wasn’t really her normal style either. Not that it was anyone’s style to use a knife up some cunts asshole. Pulling it out she discovered why. There was just as much shit on the knife as blood. Why was his ass so dirty? Never mind.

She was glad it wasn’t her own knife, as the stained blade was definitely going straight in the bin once she was finished. She loved her own knife, so losing it to that asshole would have made her want to torture the fucker for the rest of eternity.

This would have to be it for that particular experiment. It was fun, and it was always good to try something new, but the cleanup was just too disgusting.

Speaking of the cleanup, between the wrist-breaking and the knife incident, plenty of blood had joined the mud on her kitchen floor. It was a state. Maybe this was the real reason why she’d never killed in her own home before? She always thought it was because it was too risky, but actually, she hadn’t given that a second thought. It was the mess afterwards that really bothered her.

His blood had sprayed across the kitchen cabinets when she snapped his wrist. Then his broken nose had leaked over the floor after she’d nutted the trespasser. That’s before even considering the actual human faeces. Putting the knife in had caused more red to spill, but pulling it out brought a whole new colour to the decor. Brown shit had flooded to her floor were she must have hit something important inside him.

The knife had come out with a plop too that had flung more excrement around her beautiful kitchen.

It wasn’t like she could have laid down some plastic sheets on the floor and covered the cabinets in advance. He came to her, not the other way around.

She gave him a stern kick as she looked at her blood-stained kitchen, but he didn’t stir. There was a good chance he could have bled to death, but she could see him still faintly breathing. As the Hillside Butcher, she normally just left the bodies lying wherever she’d destroyed them. It helped build her legacy…

… But what to do as Cassie?

She didn’t want to drag him somewhere and stage the death like the Hillside Butcher committed it because, while that was her, it wasn’t her in this moment. She didn’t want to cheapen the experience. This was Cassie’s first kill. Well, first when the motherfucker actually had the good graces to die.

Looking back to the open fridge door, she noticed the calendar identifying the upcoming morning as garbage day. She still had a good few hours before the sun came up and the truck arrived. Fuck it, she thought. That would have to do.

She left the Asshole Burglar bleeding on the stained floor while she headed upstairs to prepare for the long night ahead.

She’d only come down for a bottle of water…

The Asshole Burglar regained consciousness just as Cassie walked back into the kitchen with a bunch of bin liners, some plastic sheets, and, more importantly, a gigantic, jagged-edged black knife. The sort he’d heard the local slasher, the Hillside Butcher, used…

Fuck! he briefly got to think before she sliced his arm clean off with one vicious swing of the blade, wanting him to feel one last surge of unbearable pain before he succumbed .… He’d always thought the Hillside Butcher was a dude.