raw

Tearing things apart has always been a favorite of mine. Meat, cardboard from the latest package I’d received, dripping fruit torn apart with my hands and teeth- anything given to me left my hands in pieces.

I’d always known there was something different, something off, about me. On the first day of school when the teacher would engage the class in an ice-breaker activity, a common question was: what is your favorite food?

We went around the room, and most of the kids answered something to the tune of, ‘Brownies!’ or ‘My mom’s lasagna!’ The image in my head was crimson red- an image of a deer just after the slaughter, bursting with blood at the area where the inside of the deer’s body had finally met the outside. Mouth agape, eyes brimming with fear. My favorite food was raw and had a gaping bullet wound, blood dripping from my mouth as I devoured it, leaving behind a pile of bones. Clearly, I couldn’t tell the class that.

“My favorite food is ice cream” Pretending to be normal came easily to me.

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The fact that something was off about me really came to a head on October 11th. If you live in the small town I came from, I’m sure you’re familiar with some crazy story that took place on October 11th, 2002. The accounts of the story are all true, but they are all so… clinical. They’ve removed all the love from the story- and I assure you, there was so much love in what I did, so much love that I was bursting at the seams and didn’t know what to do with myself. I need to tell the story my way, with all of the love included.

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On October 11th, 2002, I woke up like normal. What I did was not premeditated- I did not wake up that day knowing what would happen, as some have come to claim. I brushed my teeth, got dressed, ate breakfast, and went to school normally. Although I’d eaten a full breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon, I was still hungry, which was the standard for me. No amount of food, no amount of water, could satisfy me like a bloody and wounded slab of meat could.

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At school, I met up with my friend, Elise. Elise was my best friend; our friendship blurred the lines between healthy love and extreme obsession. I must admit that the ‘extreme obsession’ part pertained to me, and my deep admiration and love for Elise.

“This day is already going horribly,” Elise complained, smoothing out her mousy brown hair in the mirror in her locker. Elise thought she was having a bad hair day, but I didn’t see anything wrong. She looked as perfect as she usually did to me. I moved in closer, pretending like I wanted to look in the mirror and was merely squeezing in next to her. I breathed in her hair, trying to absorb as much of her as I could. Vanilla.

“You look fine, don’t worry,” I reassured. We moved on from her locker, talking about the upcoming math test. Strangely, I remember nearly every conversation I’ve ever had with Elise. I remember every complaint she’d lodged, every grudge she’d held, every person she’d had a crush on. Like I said, I was obsessed.

October 11th was fairly normal. Elise and I went about our day, falling into the routine we’d established. My stomach grumbled throughout the day despite my incessant nibbling on granola bars.

At lunch, I picked on a beef patty nestled between a stale bun. Elise, by my side, asked me,

“Wanna come over after school? My parents won’t be there to kick you out at 10, so you can stay late. They’re seeing Cats on Broadway,” I felt unsettled, but I chalked it up to being hungry. I’d been to Elise’s house countless times, and there was nothing to worry about.

“Yeah, of course,” I answered while staring at my tray, which was empty after I’d gobbled everything up in hopes of feeling satisfied.

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After school, Elise and I walked the mile to her house. Elise Clancy lived with her mother and father in your average two-bedroom house in suburbia. She was an only child.

The house was so still when Elise led us inside. The hum of the refrigerator was the only thing darbing to make a sound.

We dropped our bags in the living room, and Elise grabbed baby carrots and ranch for a snack. We headed upstairs to her bedroom. My stomach grumbled as I walked up the stairs behind Elise.

Elise’s room was immaculately organized; no items were strewn about the floor, and there was no mountain of clean laundry waiting to be put away. Looking back on it, it really is a shame that her room would never be so organized again. I imagine that, now, all of her belongings are stacked in boxes, or given away to Goodwill.

We positioned ourselves on the floor, criss-cross-applesauce like we used to in elementary school. She bit into a carrot, making an obscene crunch as my eyes focused themselves on her mouth, on the movements of her jaw as she ate the carrot. I loved her, so much. So much that I wanted to watch her chew, something many people see as gross. I loved her so much that I wished I was the carrot, gingerly chewed before finding a resting place in her stomach.

As we ate, we talked about TV shows we’d seen recently. Elise was really into watching reruns of Boy Meets World. Throughout our conversations, I stared at her so intensely that I may as well have been inside her body. I tried to keep it unnoticeable. Elise was my best friend, my favorite person, and I didn’t want to upset her, or make her uncomfortable.

Despite my best attempts to keep my staring discrete, Elise asked me,

“Are you okay? You seem really quite and checked out,”

Really, I was the opposite. I was entirely too checked in to her face and the way the muscles contorted themselves when she laughed or smiled. I was too focused on the way her arms gestured her hands when she was trying to make a point.

My mind flashed red, showing me more pictures of bleeding meat, and my eyes welled with tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elise asked.

Tears escaped my eyes, rolling quickly down my face and plopping on the hardwood floor.

Everything was too much. The images in my mind, my love and admiration for Elise, my tears slipping from my eyes. My stomach grumbling.

Elise leaned in to hug me. I calmed down. My breathing slowed, and my tears came to a stop. My stomach groaned.

“Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me,” No. I really can’t.

I took a deep breath in and wrapped my arms around Elise and tried to convey all of my love for her in the way I hugged her. I breathed in her scent- vanilla.

I buried my head in her shoulder, in the crook where her neck and shoulders met.

I was so hungry. I was so full of love. I thought I might die at any moment, that God would strike me down, and this would all be over.

I opened my mouth, and before I’d even done anything wrong, I was filled with fear and regret. Because I knew I couldn’t stop now. The fear and regret didn’t stop me- I’d already started it, and I had to finish it. I closed my mouth around her neck as she writhed beneath my grasp, screaming and trying to push me off. I clamped on, my jaw tightly closed shut around her neck and I tore into the flesh with my incisors. I am the mouse trap, she is the mouse. I removed my mouth from her neck, her blood dribbling down off my chin as I stared, in shock, at the gaping wound I’d created on her neck.

She cried and screamed for her parents. She asked me what I was doing, and why I was doing it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” was all I said to her. I choked it out before I dug into her cheek with my mouth, the puddle of blood from her neck getting larger. I lapped the blood off the floor, like a dog would water.

I knew I was doing something so wrong. I was covered in my best friend’s blood. Pieces of her body were making their way through my digestive tract. But I kept biting, I kept chewing. Elise looked to me like the most supple meal out there. Maybe she was my last meal, because what would happen to me after this?

After a little bit, Elise stopped moving. She stopped screaming, crying, and pleading. The only sound that remained was my animalistic chewing and the tearing of meat off bones.

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I stayed with Elise for a while. There wasn’t much left, save her crotch and butt, along with a mush of skin with two eyeballs, which had once been her face. I’d eaten her heart. I’d eaten her brain. There was nothing left of Elise’s mind or soul, yet I didn’t want to leave her. I held her remaining parts in my hands, crying into them like a child, having a tantrum full with snot and hysterics.

I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t even want to do it, but I had to. Once I’d taken that first bite- it was game over. I had to do it. I took some deep breaths, attempting to stop my crying and think critically.

I’d just killed someone. I just ate a human being. What was I supposed to do? I didn’t want to go to jail. I didn’t want to face the scrutiny of everyone, of police questioning, ‘Why did you do this?’, when I didn’t know the answer.

More deep breaths. Everything would be okay. I would leave.

I went downstairs and grabbed my bookbag. I had to leave, immediately. There was no coming back. I scoured Elise’s bedroom for cash, and found $100 in twenties. It was enough to get me on a bus to somewhere where I could hide and start over. I shoved some of Elise’s clothes into my bag. I didn’t want to go home and get my own stuff (if I look back on it and think rationally, I could’ve gone home. I could’ve had a normal rest of my day- Elise’s parents wouldn’t be home until midnight). I needed to leave immediately.

I took a shower in Elise’s bathroom, using all of her toiletries, even down to her toothbrush. I figured that I’d already eaten her, so using her toothbrush wasn’t too gross at that point. I looked at myself in the mirror before I showered, taking in my mouth and teeth that had been stained red. My eyes were red from crying so much. My clothes were covered in blood- they couldn’t leave with me. I got in the shower, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor, just another thing for Elise’s parents to find when they come home to this grisly scene.

I dressed myself in Elise’s clothes. Maybe I could become her. I’d loved her so much, and now she was inside of me, and I was wearing her clothes and using her toothbrush. I composed myself in the mirror, my wet hair dripping on the floor. I grabbed my bookbag, which was full of Elise’s clothes and money, and I headed downstairs. The small sum of cash would be enough to get me somewhere away from here, where I could be someone else entirely.

I stood before the front door, taking a deep breath, when I smelled it- vanilla. Maybe she was already haunting me, maybe this was a sign that I’d never escape what I’d done. I took another breath to steady myself, slowly moving my hand toward the doorknob, twisting it painstakingly slow.

A breeze hit me as I opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind me and leaving what I’d done inside.

I walked down the stone pathway away from Elise’s house, heading anywhere that would get me away from this. I didn’t know where to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay here. I was a ticking time bomb- eventually, her parents would come home. They’d find out that I was there with her. They’d find my DNA in the mush that was left of Elise. I would be in trouble, so I had to leave. I had to hide, and never come back to this town.

Although I felt so rotten, so incredibly guilty for what I did, my stomach was full for the first time in a long time. My stomach was full since that time I went hunting with my grandpa, when I took a chunk out of the deer he shot.

I was full.