He knelt down in front of me and caressed the chrome plated wheels along the sides of my wheelchair, if he only knew exactly how much pleasure it gave me to see him like this. It’s such an empowering sensation having one kneel beneath you, keeping the head and eyes to the ground almost as if in a position of worship. No. Not almost. He was in a position of worship, for he worshipped me. I watched as his lips parted from one another in such a smile to reveal his beautiful teeth.  I watched his eyes grow wide as they travelled upwards; taking in the sight of my being as if he had found religion once again. My husband was an obsessive compulsive, his obsession was me. My name is Lydia Ellis and I do not love my husband.

I am paralyzed from the waist down and ever since I was a young girl I was told I would never be able to benefit society and no one will ever fall in love with me. The former part of this statement has been proven true while the latter, indeed, remains false. I have found ways to manipulate my husband’s obsession and dedication to please me so that I not benefit this wretched society I am forced to live amongst, but to destroy it from the inside out. My goal is to pick off, one by one, the highest ranking members of this hell hole until it crumbles upon itself. My name is Lydia Ellis and I am not what the sane person considers to be sane.

My fingers worked through the small knots as I ran them through the top layer of his hair, feeling each individual strand brush against my skeletal hand. His head jerked as I yanked it upwards, keeping his hair in tufts along my palm. “Where are the teeth?” My voice was stern and I watched as he squirmed below me, avoiding my gaze. He stuttered some gibberish and I could feel the heat emitting off of his cheeks. “Darling once, and only once more. Where are my teeth? Speak clearly now.”

“I—I had a client but last minute to, a, uh, canal, root canal, she needed a consultation you see she was in pain, a lot of pain and then I had to leave right after to get to the bank you know, the bank closes and so sorry I am so sorry but the district attorney is still, still in the freezer and I didn’t have time for the teeth, his teeth yet and sorry so sorry so sorry.”

His voice shook as his whole body rocked back and forth, either out of fear or the guilt from his failure to obey. I am always anticipating that last Thursday of every month for this reason, and this reason only. This was the second consecutive Thursday something had come up and he had failed to deliver my teeth- I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I needed my teeth. My name is Lydia Ellis and maybe I am an obsessive compulsive too.

This was going to be a problem. I couldn’t handle his newly developed sloppiness, I needed my Thursday tea.  I needed my teeth. The fire hissed and sputtered as a breeze blew the drapes aside, it was getting cold and it was getting late. It was risky but maybe I could send him back to retrieve them. The attorney was technically already dead and that’s the messy part. I scanned the room and counted the shelves that were lined with little jars.

I sighed at the tedious memory of the hours from the past week I had spent re-sorting the old canines from the molars again and again. I longed to feel the soft curves and edges of a new set of teeth, I was willing to take the risk. The shadows cast by the fire danced along the walls, illuminating the room with a dark orange blush as it grew in its pit. My husband was still fixated upon me, awaiting my reply to his pathetic vindication for what had happened.

I turned my attention back to him and watched his eyes light up as those of a dog’s when his master returns. Body language is very important, especially when there is an absence of words. I slid my nails along the edge of his sharp jaw, lifting his head up only ever so slightly to make sure his eyes met mine. I kept his head there for a few seconds, maybe a few seconds longer than necessary, but I needed him to know how serious it was. “Go get them.” Almost within seconds he was in his car and on his way back to his dentistry.

I moved closer to the fire, closed my eyes and waited, envisioning what was happening. My husband unlocking the back door and sprinting towards to basement floor. His flinch with every sharp crack that echoed throughout the room after each tooth was pulled. His anxious drive back with the blood soaked bag that lie in the back seat, and finally- his shove through our large wooden doors and the rush to the living room, presenting me with my long awaited prize. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at this final thought, sending a wave of chills down the flesh of my back.

What I did not envision at the time, though, was the suspicion his activity had stirred within a local cop nor did I anticipate the cop to tail my husband home on this particular night. This specific cop had been investigating my husband for the past three months and was slowly connecting the seemingly random string of murders directly to him. He followed my husband home and watched the whole thing go down. My name is Lydia Ellis and I did not think this through.

As predicted my husband burst through the doors, smearing the antique knobs in the blood that stained his fingertips. He set the bag down on the same coffee table that stood somber week after week of having teeth scratching and staining its dark wood surface. Smiling, he awaited his recognition for the good work he had done. “Thank you dear. Clean the car. Clean the door. Now leave us be.” And again, in seconds, he was gone.

I wheeled myself to the kitchen, cradling the plastic bag of teeth as if it were a child, preparing to clean and sort them, one by one. The work was long and mostly gruesome, picking off dead nerve endings and such but it was all worth it. It was always worth it. All night I stayed in the kitchen and whitened each tooth to absolute perfection, I was here in my own heaven. It never really occurred to me until then how lucky I was to have my husband. Our relationship was only briefly romantic, and it was almost never loving- it was mostly just infatuation from his end and control from mine. He did everything I ever asked and he loved it. Was this moral? Probably not. Would he be killing off innocent members of the general public if he wasn’t infatuated with me and my desire to do so? Probably not, either. He is the good guy in the story, but none of that matters if he can’t even think for himself.

The sun pierced through the clouds and into my kitchen, painting the scene with shades of pink and red- it was an exceptional sunrise. “Today is going to be a good day,” I sighed to myself. I set aside the three most perfect incisors I had found and two flawless canines on a small napkin before sealing the last of the jars and hiding them in the cupboards along with the more recently finished sets. Turning my attention back to the five teeth I had set aside, I carefully swept them into my palm and went off to put them in the tea cup that sat waiting. The aroma filled the room as I carefully dropped each tooth into the steaming cup. As I pressed it to my cold, dead lips it shot beams of warmth throughout my whole body. I inhaled the steam and before I could take my first taste, there was a knock at the door. My name is Lydia Ellis and I am about to prove that I am an exceptional liar.

Setting the tea down I wheeled towards the door as fast I could, not wanting to wake my husband. It was a police officer. I knew why he was here before he even began to speak, so I knew what I had to do. This had to be the end of it all. The first impression is the most important, and I had to impersonate my husband’s prisoner. I had kept this idea as a backup plan for such a long time now, but I never thought I would ever have to resort to it.

I looked around the room in fear and began to shake.  “Th-thank god. Dear god. Oh my thank you thank you come in come in, quiet now he is asleep.” I grabbed his sleeve and shakily dragged him inside.  The officer was confused but concerned, so he stepped in. I watched his face contort in disgust the more he looked around the room, witnessing my beautiful work.

I began to cry, because that is what people do in situations like this, right? In a hushed tone I began to give my statement to the officer, slowly becoming the protagonist in my sad sadistic tale. This tale was about how a cripple was kidnapped and held hostage by a psychotic man with a terrifying fascination with teeth- after all he was a dentist that was just too passionate about his work. It was a wonderful story, really, although it disgusted me to lower myself down to such a pathetic, powerless figure. I couldn’t let that get to me, I couldn’t break character.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through- the things he’s made me clean… have you ever ripped the little nerve roots out of a tooth? Do you even know the difference between a molar and a canine? He’s completely insane, the things he’s forced onto me,” I paused.  “Have you ever had to fall asleep at night reeking of someone else’s blood?” I buried my head in my arms and began to sob again. The police man fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably. I was succeeding.

“You’re going to be alright. We are going to make sure you get to safety ma’am,” he shook his head. “Sometimes bad things happen to the wrong people, and I’m going to make sure that man gets what he deserves, you hear me? We are going to bring you justice.”

It took me exactly forty three minutes to get my point across to the officer just enough to finally push him over the edge in absolute horror. I told him the stories of how I had no contact with anyone here, how many weeks on end I was locked in the house with no telephone lines and barely any electricity. Stories of the hundreds of rotting teeth I’ve had to polish to perfection, the infestation of bugs that were living within some of the jars in this very room. He cringed every time my husband shoved me into submission, with every crack of every tooth. I gave him stories that made this full grown man sick to his stomach.

He was left absolutely speechless and was successfully convinced I was the forlorn victim in all of this. At the end of my sad confession, he called in to the station to figure out where he was going to go from here with all of this breakthrough information.

“Alright, hey erm listen to me. I’m going to make sure you’re okay, personally.” He grabbed my hand and stroked it softly, probably a gesture of comfort. I had to use every ounce of my being to not be sick right onto him. “Stay here for now though. We can’t-”

“No you can’t leave me here please, please don’t leave me here!” I cried. See, of course I knew that he would need a warrant to arrest my husband; he had to go back to the station. I couldn’t just let him know that though, it’s not convincing enough. I mean after all aren’t I in a state of shock and terror or something?

“Ma’am please. It’s going to be okay, but you are going to have to stay here, stay in your kitchen. Act as if everything is normal in front of him and I’ll be back. I’ll come back with backup and the proper warrant to get him so just don’t worry.” And with that, he had gone as quietly as he had come in.

I went back to the kitchen and reheated my cup of tea; I mean I might as well do as I was told for a change. My husband had finally awoken within the next half hour or so and trudged into my line of sight, he kneeled beside me. “Good morning,” he smiled up at me. I stared back grimly, as I do every morning. I straightened my back, reinforcing my authority upon him. “Come dear, let me see those teeth of yours,” I ran my thumb along his soft lips and parted them. What a shame, they were so beautiful, I needed one last look. This was, in fact, the last time I will be able to enjoy the control I have over this dumb bastard.

I put my head down and met his lips with mine for the first time in months, if we were going to kiss for a final time it would be on my terms, not his. I held him there, again maybe a little bit longer than necessary. It was my final assertion of dominance over him. That’s what I told myself, at least. My name is Lydia Ellis and I think I am going to miss my husband.

“I believe I haven’t finished my tea yet, darling,” He brought it to me almost immediately. How obedient. He raised the lukewarm porcelain up to my lips for a final time. The five teeth clanked on the walls of the cup and grinded against each other as he tipped the last of the liquid into my mouth, I savored that last sip. “It’s going to be a good day, alright.” I muttered into the cup.

“It is. It is going to be a good day!” he said grinning. 

Seconds later, we heard a knock.