the kill phrase

today has been quite a miserable day, and i quite frankly hope to be done with it.

management has been badgering me up and down with complaints that i supposedly should not look into the personal info of the people we repo from. i say to that: screw off and let me do my job! i am here to take our possessions from their old owners and give them to our clients. i am aware that we will not be taking or giving away their personal documents, government or otherwise, since those aren't considered 'property'. however, since i will be entering the homes of our properties' previous owners, i feel that i have the right to investigate.

i could go further, but luckily for management, that isn't important right now. right now, i will be cataloging everything i take from the current residence for future reference.

this house is fairly unremarkable, resembling all others on this street, aside from the horrid stench emanating from within it. the items lying within will feel the warm embrace of the outside world, the warmth of the true sun beating upon them! they will no longer remain in the clutches of the horrid man who surely lives here! i will now enter the building by getting him to invite me in, knowing i will take what doesn't belong to him anymore.

it has been 30 minutes since i first knocked, so i will have to resort to forceful entrance.

management has been telling me that if i am not answered, i need to call them and remind them i am there. they told me that when i break in, the results look like a break-in, and the neighbors and the locals call the cops. apparently it's a huge headache for them to do things they did a hundred times before. they blame me for doing what i have to, and yet they refuse to give me a phone.

absurd.

as it seems, they will get what they want today, the door wasn't locked.

the interior is unkempt, but everything is where it should be. the stench is ever-prevalent, but especially upstairs, thankfully, i will be going there last.

list of repossessed/personal items starts -HERE-.

in the living room:

1 11' flat-screen tv.
1 3-bulbed-standing lamp.
3 novelty pens.
2 regular ballpoint pens.

a huge glass table in the center of the room, slightly off-center.
a bookcase, without any books.
plant vases, with tall plants.
a ceiling fan, with lights on it.

in the kitchen:

a fridge, filled with food, all fresh.
one wooden table, placed awkwardly near the entrance of the room.
one chair, not pushed in.
an otherwise full kitchen set.

in the dining room/secondary living room.

walls comprised of windows.
tables, unmoved, clearly unused.

in the bathroom:

a thorough floral scent, unlike the stench upstairs.
flowery shower curtains.
toilet, completely empty, water or otherwise.
fully stocked closet, aside from 1 towel on the floor.

the above list is everything i cared to document on the lower floor. as stated before, the stench originates from upstairs, where i will now be going. standing up here, the stench comes from the door directly across the hall from the top of the stairs.

list of repossessed/personal items starts -HERE-.

in the leftwards room.

1 dresser.
going back to the stairs and getting the dresser down them was made greatly more difficult by the presence of the stench.

...nothing else of note at all, actually. what was the point of having all this space if they weren't going to use it? pathetic individual, i have no sympathy towards them.

in the bedroom.

13 shirts, varying colour.
6 overcoats, grey and black.
1 table lamp.
1 dresser.
dresser was used to temporarily store items for transport downstairs, lamp damaged in process.

bed is neatly made.
closet is fully stocked.
clothes drawers are fully stocked aside from those repossessed. second non-repossessed lamp beside bed.

hallway has 2 doors that lead into nothing, just wall.

the door that is clearly the source of the stench, as mentioned previously, is across the hall from the stairs.

i have just now noticed that the owner of this house has never made a sound or even made an attempt to find me. this clearly must mean he isn't home right now, completely forgetting to lock his door, meaning he must of treated every object he owned and is currently in this house really poorly. they are better off no longer in his possession.

i am dreading opening this door, but i have yet to collect everything i need from here, so i will be doing so now. i'm writing this down now to get myself to do it.

i found the owner. she's a she.

...a black she at that! she's wearing some sort of laboratory coat, covering a ruined blueish green tank top. her body is slouched over an open binder, she must've been in the process of reading it when she died. on that topic, her body looks like it 'melted' outwards from the middle of her. there are already flies and maggots swarming her corpse, her body temperature non-existent, room temperature.

i repo'd the chair she was sitting on, though it was completely melted through and thoroughly ruined. once i came back to her body, her stomach acid was still somehow going, having eaten into the floor by now. i just found a journal, apparently belonging to her (apparently going by the name "clara", despite management telling me her name was "carl"). she's apparently moved many times, moving in here yesterday. she doesn't mention how she treats her possessions, just stuff about studying organs and chemicals.

the front half of the binder is no different, going on about 'antiacids' and psychological triggers. it keeps mentioning a series of thoughts that can make your brain not stop your stomach acids from eating the rest of your body. said passage says this: "

(note: this was found in a journal belonging to a man wearing a repo uniform, it actually ends like that.)