"Goodbye! Have a nice day! Thanks for chilling with me~" With my final words seeping into the microphone, the press of a button cuts off the vast world funnelling into the other side of the screen through but a teeny cable. With the pixels darkening into a black mirror, it also drains from me. Once again, the hole inside my body emerges from the afterglow. It feels as if every bit of warmth is sucked away from it. As the computer shut down, I can see myself in the black mirror once more... and I look terrible.

It's nowhere as bad as my hunger, though. Even though I just eat, my stomach still feels empty and cold.

Tapping on the keypad, the door to my basement opens once more, and I step into the darkness leading down. It was hard to navigate with only the light leaking from the outside world at first, but I eventually get used to it. Although by the time I can walk down the stairs in the dark without tripping, the reason for that has already been gone too. Old habits die hard, I guess.

With the final step, the stale air around feels a bit less stagnant, even if the taste of iron and vinegar reminds me that it is just an illusion. My head reaches for the cold wall and flips the switch, summoning the dim light that soon floods the room into the dark, almost burgundy red.

There is a full-body mirror here. I have forgotten the reason I put it here in the first place - maybe it has been here since before I renovated the place. The red light dyes my hair into a salmon tone, and my hoodie looks almost black in it. I grit my teeth and lift my lips towards the figure in the mirror, and she responds the same. Somehow, I feel that looks more like myself.

My cold stomach growls to remind me of what I need to do, though, and I bid the one in the mirror goodbye. Soon, another one joins my belly in reminding me. I must admit, I am kind of surprised that how long she can hang around despite her state. Even the blood on the table has mostly dried off. I guess the tourniquets are working well enough.

"Howdy~" It is only polite to greet others, after all, even if the gag makes everything she says gibberish. Then again, as beautiful as her voice is, her words are only going to spoil the atmosphere.

Her cries, on the other hand...

The meat cleaver is still quite heavy for me, but I have grown accustomed to it. I can still feel its weight with every swing, but at the same time, it feels as if it is guiding me to its destination, its target. Maybe it is inertia.

Or maybe not.

It does not really matter. The blade still looks sharp enough, even if the permanent stain on it turns the reflected grin crimson.

It feels almost like a hammer. With a wide swing, its edge slices into the remaining thick, juicy thigh, and the muffled scream fills the room. I can feel her severed muscle twitching against the blade, and her warmth spilling onto me. It is enough to ward off the chill within me, at least for the moment. Pulling the cleaver out, I can see it making a dent into her bone. It will still take quite a few more chops to go through it.

And that is what makes it good, is it not?

I pull the gag off her drenched face and let the unfiltered music floods the basement. For a moment, I feel almost like a conductor, keeping the rhythm with every swing, until the sound of flesh and bone is replaced by the scarred table. As she strains her voice, I get another tourniquet and tie it around her upper thigh. It would be a shame to have the rest of the meal spoiled before, after all. The cleaver is dulled once more, and I don't think I'll be able to sharpen it many times more. Quite a shame, really. Maybe I will get used to its replacement sooner, just like hers. I have always wondered how rabbit meat tastes...

The severed leg is still warm, drenched in her blood like marinade, fittingly enough. The twitching, though, calls to me, and my hunger. My body takes charge of itself, and my sharp teeth sink into the exposed flesh. Aaaa... indeed, she really does age like fine wine. Fermented in the best way possible. Of course, it will have a much richer taste once I prepare it properly, but the raw, bloody bite has something... I think they call it something like "jenny say kwa"? I do not need fancy pants words to enjoy a thick thigh like hers anyway.

"Hey, you wanna try this?" I point the leg at her. Hey, she is opening her mouth! I press the cut against her salted face, smearing it against her as her scream is muffled. Still, it would not stay fresh forever, so she has to kiss her thigh goodbye. Returning the gag to her drenched face, I carry my next meal back upstairs. It is quite strange that I can already smell its delicious taste even before I turn on my oven, and it makes my stomach growl, but in a more anticipating way.

Huh? Oh, it is just my setup. I do not remember my monitors looking that reflective... but it is good to see myself looking better. My hair is given a red highlight, and my hoodie coloured in a dark red shade. My grin is still stained crimson.

That is myself, after all.

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Pub: 08 Mar 2022 09:07 UTC
Views: 1131