Cleanliness

I listened to the lock click in place as I unlocked the door to my new residence. It is a small house that stood amidst a peaceful neighbourhood. I wiped away beads of perspiration as the sun shone relentlessly down on the neighbourhood. "Oh, you are our new neighbour, wasn't expecting one so soon, anyway I'm Ashley," chimed a young lady who now stood before me. I shook her hand, "Yeah, got it at a good price. Oh and by the way, name's Matthew." I realised the heat was starting to get to me. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, but do you think we could uh- continue another time," I pointed to the car behind me, with boxes of different sizes still piled up, waiting to be unpacked.

After we parted ways, I started to move each box into the living room. I heaved and carried the last few boxes indoors, exhausted from the blazing heat. It was only after I finished sorting out my belongings that I noticed a strange note sitting on the kitchen counter. How had I not seen that before, I thought? The paper seemed to have been stained with patches of crimson. It made me feel uneasy but made me all the more curious about what was written. It read:

I love the concept of cleanliness. The thought of cleaning up my apartment puts my mind at ease. It helps me feel safe and happy in my living space. I would hum a tune as I listen to the calm rustling as my broom sweeps across the floor. As I go through each room, I would eventually see specks of dust and hair gathered in a pile. I would then attempt at sweeping the pile into a dustpan. This part never gets easy. But honestly, I would rather be able to reach every nook and cranny than get a bulky vacuum cleaner that cannot clean certain corners. The mere feeling that there might be some foreign creature living in a remote corner under my bed drives me insane. I would then listen to the gentle trickling as I mix some disinfectant with water to thoroughly wipe down my apartment. I take a deep breath and the smell of disinfectant wafts into my nose. While it is not for everyone, this puts me at ease knowing that my apartment is spic-and-span.

Gathering the trash, I would walk out to the chute and listen as it creaks open. Dropping it in, I would be sure to listen as the bag of refuse hits the collection centre. To me at least, it is a necessity to make sure that such vile waste stays as far away from me as possible. If I could help it, I would even go out to a local landfill to dispose of them. Unfortunately, the world outside is full of these toxic vermin, waiting for its opportunity to creep up on an unwitting individual, causing them to fall ill.

I give the rubbish chute a spritz of disinfectant and decide to proceed to shower. After all, the apartment is only as clean as its owner. I enjoy the feeling of warm water raining down on my skin, but the icing on the cake is the sensation of soap smoothly gliding over my skin, cleansing it thoroughly. This was my daily routine and I ensure that my apartment was immaculately cleaned thrice a day. Some may say that it is excessive but the thought of even missing a corner irks me to the very core.

This went on until I happened to see black specks on the walls. It started with one then quickly became multiple. I would scrub them multiple times a day but they seem to have stained the walls. No amount of scrubbing nor chemicals would successfully get rid of the stains. Then, many restless nights followed as I pondered over the stains. Where did these specks come from? It could not have been black mold since I cleaned it so often. Seeing these black spots drove me insane. I would start mixing disinfectants into my water and soap to avoid catching anything due to the mysterious black specks. But none of that mattered.

At that point what was fine cursive penmanship and became nothing more than scrawls on the paper. I shuddered as I read on.

Soon, I started noticing the same black specks on my body. First, there was a tiny one on my finger. Thinking it may be something stuck under my skin, I would prick the spot and attempt to squeeze it out. I would wince as the needle pierced my skin and watch as a warm red liquid started oozing out of my punctured finger. But no black speck came out. Once it heals, the black speck would return. But by then it had multiplied and started occupying larger areas of my body. This drove me insane. I would scrub my body for hours on end. And as I did so, the towel would feel like sandpaper on my skin. The towel turned pink as time went on, soaking up the crimson blood as it oozed out of my skin. After my skin healed, it once again became covered with black specks. Nothing I did would get rid of these mysterious patches of skin. What was once fair, clear skin is now covered with scars and black patches of skin. I was driven to madness by the existence of these strange patches. I started to scrub my skin off in hopes of finally getting rid of them. But with every attempt, my skin just healed and the spots would then reappear.

Soon, I started to notice the same patches on my child. I placed a pillow over her face and carved out the diseased patches of skin. She struggled and cried. She didn't know I was trying to help her. I tried everything to coax her to stop resisting. After what seemed like forever, her body went limp and she stopped crying.

I dry heaved as I realised what might have happened to the poor child. I could not bring myself to continue reading the note. It clearly documented the heinous actions of a horrendously disturbed individual.

I knocked on Ashley's door and demanded some answers. "What did you mean when you said you weren't expecting new neighbours so soon? Were the previous occupants a child and their parent?" Ashley's gave went pale. She stammered, "Yeah, we reported a stench coming from the house. Apparently, rumours said they found the occupants skinned alive. I can't imagine anyone to be sick enough to do something like this."