Time To Eat

It started so subtly and progressed to something a lot more terrifying.

It started so subtly. It was the time where my sister invited me to her house, that Saturday night, and cooked steak for me, her husband and her two kids. She mistakenly undercooked my steak that night.

               “Is there something wrong Mike?”, she asked with a fork halfway through her mouth.

               I was chewing my meat. I felt juices ooze out from the meat as my teeth clamped down on it. I tasted the sweet and salty chunk of flavour twirling in my mouth. This was great. I rolled the chunk in my mouth and chew again. The juices were sour yet tingling with flavour, and the meat rolled around my tongue like an apple in a blender. It was very tasty. I hadn’t tasted meat like this before, and on each bite I could not feel more alive, like a long enduring thirsty finally being quenched.

               “Nothing Jen”, I said as I enjoyed chewing and sipping the meat. “Everything’s fine. Listen Jen, where did you buy this meat? It tastes really good.”

               Jen smiled.

               “From Woolies, they had a sale on it. I thought you might like it as steak.”

               “Yeah I do like it. Very much”, I said as I took another bite. “It tastes amazing!”

               I enjoyed the next bite. I felt like something inside me had finally awoken. This love for this meat, this love for this flavour, this love for this texture had awoken. I immediately sliced another chunk and devoured it faster. Jen’s husband looked at me funny.

               “Slow down tiger, there’s more where that came from,” he said with a raised brow.
               “Sorry”, I said, with juice dripping from my mouth “It just tastes so good.”

               “Thanks Mike”, Jen said “But I think you should slow down a bit.”

               I didn’t listen to her. They watched me devour the steak like it was my last meal. The texture, the taste, the smell, all of it I loved. I didn’t care if they saw me eat funny, but I loved it. But that was when my dark path started. My niece , Anna, who was sitting adjacent to me, pointed it out to me.

               “Uncle Mike. You’re steak has blood.”

               Everyone in the table looked at me. I looked at my plate. A small piece of the stake remained, remnant of my rampage of food, was sitting on my plate. At the side of the meat, everyone can see blood dripping from its side. I dropped by spoon and fork, pushed back my chair and looked around.

               “Jesus Mike!”, Jen’s husband said “You ate the steak raw.”

               “Are you okay Mike?”, Jen asked. I nodded. I didn’t realize that the steak I ate was raw. It tasted so firm, the flavours were there and the meat was great. “I must’ve undercooked yours Mike.”

               “I’m-I’m fine. Excuse me for a moment”. I said, standing up and headed to the bathroom.              

               I spat blood and saliva in the sink in Jen’s bathroom. I stared in shock in the smudge of red in the sink. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I eating? Why did I enjoy it? I breathe in deeply and tried to focus. Relax Mike, you just didn’t notice it because Jen must’ve marinated it well that it tastes good. Maybe that’s it.

               That night, I excused myself from her family, and headed home. I told them I needed to rest and apologized for the weird behaviour. But in reality, I kept thinking about that food. I enjoyed raw meat. I enjoyed eating it. The juices I felt were blood. The chunk was raw muscles and meat, or at least half cooked. But it was something I enjoyed. It was something I liked. It was like a creature inside of me awoken and I needed to feed it more of that stuff. That was when the urges started.

               I tried eating normally the following week. But burgers, fries and even Coke tasted bland to me. I lost my appetite quickly with cake. I threw away a perfectly good pizza slice. What was happening to me? The creature inside of me refused to eat the food I am feeding it. It wanted the same stuff. It wanted the  raw texture of meat. At first I didn’t give in. I refused to give in.

               I grew skinny quickly from that time. My friends at work told me to eat more because I was wasting away. Jen was worried that she called me a couple of times during the next week. She wanted me to see a doctor or at least a dietician. But I ignored her. I locked myself up in my room. Huddled up in a corner, starving, and longing for raw meat.

               I decided after two weeks of torture, I would try something raw yet civilized. I went to a restaurant and ordered some raw salmon fillet, you know those with vinegar and some spices. I took my order, waited for it, and left the restaurant. I went into the nearby park and sat on a bench. I opened my pack and took the a piece out of the pack. I took the meat out and chomped on the fish. I chewed on it a moment, but the creature inside of me felt insulted. I spat the fish out. It tasted disgusting!

               “Damn it! It’s not the same!”, I said “I need actual meat! Damn it!”

               Every day my urges just grew. I survived with water and a bit of bread, but my cravings for raw meat was strong. It was very very strong. The creature inside of me kept clawing into my psyche, pushing me to my boundaries.

               The next time I gave in to my urges was when I stole a whole pig leg from a butcher shop. I was hiding in the back alley. I was thin, and my body was wobbling around, but my mind was focus. My urges and adrenaline kept me going. And when I found my chance, when the butcher left for just two minutes, I crept into the shop, unhooked a pig’s leg and dashed out. I tossed my meat across the brick wall, and climbed weakly to the other side. Thankfully the butcher was preoccupied and didn’t see me .

               I then ran to a nearby alley and waited till the coast was clear. I then placed my pig leg on the concrete. It landed with a thud. It was half-frozen, but it was soft in certain areas. I stared at it with delight. My heart lifted as I stared at the dripping blood, at the light flesh. I even found delight in the smell of the leg. I licked my lips.

               I went down on my knees and dug my teeth into the frozen flesh. I loved the squishing sound my teeth made as it chumped off a piece of the meat. Then I felt my body getting excited. The hair at the back of my neck raised. I felt the soft meat roll around in my mouth. I tasted the mild iron taste of the blood squishing in my mouth. I grinded the meat slowly, savouring each bite, each piece and each moment. And then I swallowed. The creature inside me was happy. But it wanted more.

               So I bit on the meat, I chewed and I swallowed. I gnawed on the flesh endlessly, blood and pieces of flesh splattered around. I ripped the skin, and tore the meat. I was happy. I was delighted. I was an animal.

               I didn’t know how long I was there in that alley.  But by the time I was done, the moon was high on the sky and silence filled the streets. I breathe in as I stared at the bare pinkish bone, what was left of my meal. I smiled. My belly was full, and I could feel the creature being satisfied.

               I threw the bone in the nearby trash can, went home and went to bed. I have my first pleasant sleep in a long time.

               When I woke up, I felt a strong prickling thirst up my throat, as if a rat was clawing itself out of my throat. I drank water, but it did little to quench the thirst. I went to my bathroom and splashed water on my face. I looked in the mirror. And there I say that eyes were bloodshot, and I could feel myself breathing heavily. Black buttons amidst red orbs.

               I don’t know why, but I didn’t get scared of how I looked. My mind was preoccupied of this new sensation, this new itch that I was feeling. The thirst was still there. Then the urges of the food returned quickly. The creature inside of me wanted more. It wanted something better. Rationality left my mind. All I was focusing on was getting new meat. But I knew that the creature won’t be satisfied with raw meat anymore. I wanted more. I wanted something better.

               Then just like that, I heard my neighbours talking in the lawn. It was Rick, he said he was going to fix his bike in the garage this morning, while Aileen his wife was going to feed their dog. I smiled. I knew what I had to do.

Without putting on a t-shirt, I went through the back of my house and crept through the bushes that divided our houses. I leaped over the fence silently. In front of me was their garage, and I could hear the clanking and clamber of tools, while behind me, I could hear the dog bark and flowing of kernels. I slowly crept forward. I walked cautiously towards the garage. I poked my head inside and saw Rick, with his back against me, facing his bike.

The thirst I felt amplified. I could feel my body tense. Adrenaline was filling my blood, and I salivated. I was ready. I slowly stepped forward, grabbed a nearby wrench and advanced to the kneeling Rick. He turned around just in time for me to swing the wrench across his head.

               He fell down with thud. His body went limp. Blood smearing his face. I knelt down in front of his motionless body, and smiled. This was it. I opened my mouth and dug my teeth into Rick’s neck. Flesh tore and blood gushed out like a garden hose. But I kept chewing and gnawing away on his neck. Blood filled my eyes, my face and my mouth, but I kept chewing. I kept eating. Rick lay lifeless as I ate through his face. The taste of human flesh excited me. It gave me the rush that my body needed. It quenched my thirst. It made the creature happy. I was happy. I continued on eating and eating his neck, then his mouth, then his tongue.

               Then I heard a scream. I turned around, blood dripping from my mouth and saw Aileen. She froze in horror seeing her husband, bathe in blood, and his face beyond recognition. She then snapped back to reality and ran into her house. My mind was irrational. Reason dictated me to run after her, silence her, but instinct held me to my spot, and finish my meal. Instinct won. I just continued eating away on the body that was left behind.

               Moments later, the police arrived. They tazed me, and placed me in an isolation room with a straight jacket. It didn’t matter at that time. I satisfied myself for the time being so I was calm.

               That was three weeks ago.

I am now in maximum security mental facility. My blood shot eyes still remained and the creature started hammering and urging me to eat again. I was still in a strait jacket in a room with white padding. I felt myself being more feral than sane. Animalistic instinct filled me. Jen visited me a couple of times now, but all I saw in her eyes were fear. She didn’t recognize me as her brother anymore. She saw me as an animal. And I think there is some truth to that now.

You see, my urges, my instincts and my thirst grows by the day. I am in my room right now. I haven’t eaten anything for a while now. Sooner or later, they would open the door and give me more food that I won’t eat. But when they open it, and come in, my meal has finally arrive. Time to eat.