Carefully and meticulously, she cut and fused and cauterized every nerve, every sinew, every piece of tissue until they resembled the model of perfection she’d envisioned.
She hadn’t even broken a sweat this time, her technique was nearing perfection, she was so close to revealing her work to the world, perhaps one more and she would be ready.
Confident but cautious, she left her secluded studio beneath the cover of night to procure one last specimen.
Hubris and hate had morphed into obsession, she’d spent years practicing and perfecting the skills needed for her craft, finding the perfect canvas was a skill she’d honed with cunning and care.
When she saw him, he was huddled in the alley beneath rain drenched boxes and rotting blankets not far from the very place she’d found her first, it was fate she concluded, he was the one.
It was easy to lure him to the warehouse, the promise of a hot meal and some warm clothes always brought them scurrying after her, she never thought of them as victims . . . this one, he would be her opus.