I wasn’t raised to think this way. In fact, my mother brought me up quite well. She gave me everything I needed. But she couldn’t save me from the way I thought. She couldn’t save me from the kids at school who thought I was weird for always staring at their bodies.
I didn’t stare at other girls and boys bodies because I was attracted to them in a Physical Way. I was attracted to them in a Mouth Watering way. The kind that makes my eyes not blink and drool run down my lips.
Human’s flesh is what fascinates me the most. I think about it all the time. It is constantly there in the back of my mind. The movement of muscles and skin seemed so disgusting to me.
If a human being had a plate filled with moving food they certainly wouldn’t eat it. They would find it disgusting and displeasing and would need it dead before they ate it.
I see it the same way.
When I was little my father died, my mother was crying by his casket on the funeral day. She was so upset about him being lifeless but I was smiling. The fact of seeing him dead pleased me. The silent nonmoving body was better that way.
I knew he was my father but something inside me kept telling me that things were alight, and it would be okay, because he was dead. It seemed like a waste though, just throwing him in the casket and digging him a hole to rot in. I didn't know what I expected them to do with him, or what I would have done with his body but something inside of me wanted so bad to heft him out of the coffin, throw him over my shoulder, and run.
Would my father have loved me if he knew what I really was? If he knew what I really wanted in life?
I doubt it. He would be just like any other person. He would hate me for how I stared.
Those other kids hated me.
I would like to see the kids at school dead. Seeing them lifeless and breathless would bring joyful tears to my eyes. Like a fat boy receiving a lifetime supply of doughnuts.
I had never told anyone of my thoughts. No one knew that I had a lust for blood and flesh and that human food had no real taste to me. I had never shared with anyone that I would like taste them and that one day soon I might not be able to resist any longer.
But even though I had never told anyone, didn't mean anyone wouldn't find out.
I had just walked into the kitchen when I saw my mom with hands on her hips. She stared me down for a moment until I had dropped my backpack on the floor and raised my eyebrows.
“Christopher, I got a call from the school today. Mrs. Marian is worried about you. She said that you bit a poor first grader.” She looked disappointed in me as I nodded my head. “Where on earth did you learn to bite? I thought you knew better than to treat other kids like that. Do you have a reason why you bit a little girl today?”
“She fell down on the pavement and scraped her knee open.”
“Excuse me? Are you saying you bit an already injured child?"
“I needed to taste the blood mom. It called to me. The smell made my mouth water. I could not help but bite.”
"What movie did you watch Christopher? Did you watch that old vampire movie I have in the basement? I told you that you should always ask me before you go watching some"-
"The little girl only screamed for a while before the teacher came over and pulled me off. She will live."
"She will live? Are you suggesting that what you did was no big deal?"
"I didn't taste anything anyways."
"Why would you want to taste her blood?" She was yelling then.
"I don't know I just always wanted to try blood. It's always been something I've thought about. When I saw her blood, I couldn't help myself."
"Christopher stop this nonsense right this minute. I want to hear the real reason why you bit that girl right now." She pointed her finger at the floor.
I stepped closer to her and smiled, "Her blood."
“Stop it! Stop it right now!”
“I’ve never wanted anything so bad.” “Stop it, Christopher. You are scaring me. Tell me right now what is wrong with you.”
“I need more.”
I walked closer to my mom, “Just a small taste would be fine.”
She screamed, “Get away! Get away from me Christopher!” She ran to the phone and took it into the bathroom. She locked herself in and I heard her dialing a number.
Thats the only time I told anyone. It didn't really end positive though. It got me to where I am now. Because the next thing I knew my mother was tying my hands behind my back and throwing me into the car very carefully avoiding my mouth.
It sounds like child abuse, but considering I want to taste her blood, it could be reasonable.
She dragged me into the building swiftly, avoiding eye contact with any people watching her. Then a few big men took me away and put me into a room. I had a few checkups from the doctors and they asked me a lot of questions about my life at home and at school and what dreams I had and stuff. Nothing real important though because after that they took me to another room. So here I am now in a cell of fluffy pillows with nothing to do but wait for some doctor to come in and tell me I’m delirious, that I need pills to control my problems he would never know the true meaning of. This doctor will soon learn he won't be able to fix me. I can't fix myself. No one can fix me. I will forever be like this.
I will forever be a cannibal. But do cannibals really have such a strong longing for human flesh or do they just eat humans for the heck of it?
Maybe I am not human. The rest of them are normal and eat normal foods. I eat normal food yet it does not satisfy. I bit a small child in hopes I would get a taste of blood and flesh. Am I wrong to think this way? Did not everyone want the same thing? I had heard my mother say to a friend on the phone that men only want one thing. Is that what they wanted?
Someone stepped into the room. He had a white coat and gloves on. He motioned for me to come forward. I did not go to him. I did not want to go to him. I wanted to fall asleep for a really long time until I woke up and could go to school again and go about things like I usually did. But the man only stayed and motioned for me to come once more.
I remembered the blood coming from the little girls knee at school. It had run down her leg in a single drip, tempting me until I had had enough and attacked her.
This man wore a bandage on his left hand. It was thick. It might be holding in that blood that I wanted so bad. It would be so easy to lift the bandage up and take a lick.
The man scowled at me. “Boy come with me, it is time to take your tests. Do not make me get the big men to come get you.” I crooked my neck, ignoring what he said. I came into a prowling position. The man looked worried and he turned to leave the room but I pounced. I got his leg and brought it to my mouth. He screeched. In one quick movement I shoved him onto the floor and shut the door tight. I tightly gripped his left hand and removed the bandage.
A small amount of blood came from his wound and I placed my mouth on it. I sucked in the warm taste and savored it in my mouth. It was the best thing that I had ever tasted. It was far better than any food I had ever tasted.
Then without noticing, I began biting at his skin. I couldn't help myself. I had to keep eating. I had to get more of his blood. The man's skin was just as good as the blood and so I continued on.
He was making a lot of noise and I began tearing at his face to quiet him. I took his neck and cracked the bone. He was quiet, eyes left open.
How had I gotten this strength? Had it always been there I had just never used it? I am ten years old for crying out loud. This was a grown man I had just killed.
He was dead. All dead, and all mine. I picked at his flesh; taking the muscle and leaving the fat and bones.
When I finished I wiped my mouth on my bloody t-shirt. This man was dead, I could not stay here. They would throw me in jail or kill me. I would never see my mother again. But worse yet, I would never see the sweet taste of human ever again.
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