「Warning, the following content contains sensitive topics such as; Swearing, Gore description, Cannibalism, Abuse, Mental illness, Eating disorders, Etc. If you have a problem with these topics, feel free to leave now. Reader discretion is advised.」
Travis Phelps POV - Monday Morning 04/12/19XX - 04/20/19XX
I woke up around five in the morning the next day. My body was sore from the morning before but I'd walk it off. I sighed softly and attempted to sit up. Everything hurt. And even that was an understatement. I got up and got dressed like normal before walking downstairs and cleaning the kitchen up from yesterday.
I finished after about ten minutes and made breakfast. It was a lot better due to the adrenaline and fear that spiked from the events of yesterday. Father walked in as I finished. I gave him his plate only for him to stand up.
He said I wasn't going to school that day and I knew exactly what that meant. He ended up grabbing me by my arm and pulling me to the basement door. He shoved me down, making the wind get thrown out of my chest. He shouted at me about my sins and how God would never love someone as worthless and as pitiful as me. I just sat and listened until he left the basement and slammed the door. I began to tear up, remembering the last time he had put me in the basement.
The last time he left me down there felt like eternity. It was only the span of a week but the only food was a sandwich a day if father felt generous. If he didn't, he'd let me starve. I hate his idea of 'God's plan'. He deserves nothing he has and I deserve everything he does? That's not fair, I don't understand.
A few hours turned into a few days and a few days turned into a week. I was so hungry and all I could do was stare at the door or sleep. After waiting a bit longer, I decided to see what I could find in my surrounding area.
It was dark but there was a hatch on the other side of the basement that showed the slightest bit of sunlight. I walked to it and up the stairs silently before shifting to press my hands against it. However, I quickly removed them once I felt my hands burning. I gave up on the hatch after that and went back to looking around.
I soon headed to the darkest area of the basement and adjusted to the poor lighting quickly. I felt around quietly and that's when I felt something vaguely similar to a chunk of chopped meat. Without thinking, I sunk my teeth into it and it tasted like heaven.
The sounds of my chewing and sounds of moist meat tearing filled the basement and the only thing I could think of was to eat. It tasted like a mix of pork and beef but it was the best thing I had all week. I ate the whole thing to the bone, it was close to the shape of an oddly large chicken wing. I wiped my mouth but by the time I finished, father opened the basement door. I walked over quickly, trying not to flinch at the light as he looked down at me with a look of shock and concern.
I didn't understand what I did for him to look at me that way but he demanded for me to change, clean up, and make lunch. I did as I was told and walked to my room, still starving. I got changed and tossed my clothes onto the floor before noticing the many bloodstains that covered my discarded shirt. I knew the meat was messy but I didn't think it would damage my sweater that badly.
I soon walked to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, taking note of the bloody mess that covered my face. I washed it all off, struggling ever so slightly to get everything. I then walked downstairs and made lunch in the kitchen. I finished cooking quite fast and sat down with Father at the table.
We didn't speak but I could tell he was staring at me as I ate. I swallowed my food and straightened my back before asking what he was staring at, in the politest way I knew how to. But he didn't respond and motioned for me to keep eating.
I did as I was told and finished a few minutes after and that's when he asked me where the blood on my face and sweater came from. I told him like I normally would and he cleared his throat in response. Not even a few moments of silence after, he told me something I didn't think I'd ever hear.
I just ate a person. Once that left his mouth, I went straight into a breakdown. I stared at his eyes blankly as tears began spilling out of my eyes and streaming down my face. I didn't want to believe it. I wouldn't do something like that, would I? But he knew exactly where I found it.
I gagged after a while and ran to the bathroom, the strong sense of nausea washing over me. I slammed the door closed and began forcing myself to puke. Everything began to feel like a dream as my father walked in.
He screamed at me and shouted about the door slamming and that he raised me better. I just kept puking and sobbing as I watched the blood and chunks of meat escape through my throat. Father began screaming louder and then I felt him shove my face into the bloody, meat filled vomit.
I tried to push away from it but Father forced me into it more violently every time I did. The nausea soon became worse and I ended up fainting due to the starvation, sudden hysteria, and lack of nutrition the past week. I felt my consciousness slip away and then I blacked out.
God, if this is your plan, I hope this is a sick joke.
