Bad Appetites: A Body Horror Novel

by Jon Athan

  She pointed at Cindy as her limbs trembled, as if she could fall apart at any moment.

  Cindy furrowed her brow as she stared at the woman, baffled. She glanced over her shoulder, but no one sat behind her. She turned her attention back to the stairs and tilted her head. The strange figure had vanished. Cindy sighed and shook her head – awed, confused, terrified. She turned her attention to the movie, trying her best to shrug off the vision.

  Under her breath, she whispered, “It was nothing...”

  ***

  Cindy absently stared at the screen as the credits rolled and a tender love ballad played. She could only wish the closing credits would roll for her miserable life. She yearned to reach the end of her dreadful story – to skim through the final pages and close the chapter. The sound of groaning chairs and indistinct chatter disrupted her contemplation.

  The young woman glanced around the auditorium. The few families in the audience slowly departed, talking about the shocking twist ending. The perfect couple in their row, however, stayed behind. The pair had to take a few selfies to prove they were on a date to their followers – most of which consisted of annoying marketing bots.

  The ghostly figure in the auditorium was nowhere in sight.

  Joseph rubbed Cindy's thigh and asked, “You ready to go?”

  Cindy stared at the couple and said, “No. No, you know I like to wait until it gets empty. It's too stuffy moving around with all of these people here. Let's give it a minute, then we'll head out.”

  “Sure, babe. Whatever you want. What did you think of the movie? Did you like it?”

  “It was... It was okay. It could have been better, but it wasn't as bad as some of the other crap we've seen.”

  “I thought it was really good. It was much better than the usual crap. It had that...”

  Joseph's words became nothing but a garble of indecipherable noise. Cindy watched as his lips flapped and his chin jiggled, but she didn't listen to him. Even if she wasn't overly concerned with her appearance, she wouldn't be able to keep up with the conversation because she didn't actually watch the movie. She saw the images, but she didn't experience the story. She was too busy brooding.

  Joseph coughed as he glanced towards his right, then he said, “Alright, I think we can go now. Those chatty douchebags are gone. Come on.”

  Joseph held Cindy's hand as he led her towards the hall. The couple walked out of the empty auditorium, leaving their trash stuffed under the seats for the janitor to clean. They walked through the lobby and headed towards the exit near the snack bar. The foyer of the theater was illuminated by bright lights and the luminous moon – nighttime had arrived during the movie.

  Cindy's eyes widened upon spotting another couple walking towards them. She smiled and ecstatically said, “Charlotte! How are you, hun?”

  Charlotte Torres, Cindy's close friend, approached with a sincere smile plastered on her chiseled face. Although she harbored hatred for those she deemed better than her, Cindy couldn't help but love Charlotte. She was a true friend with a genuine heart. She didn't wear multiple faces like most of the people she encountered.

  Charlotte wasn't the skinny runway-model type, either. The raven-haired woman had an hourglass figure without a protruding gut. She was a naturally thick woman and she was proud of her figure. Her confidence could be seen in her glimmering brown eyes and her proud strutting. She wore a black jacket over a white-and-black striped maxi dress to the theater.

  Cindy and Charlotte shared a hug as they met towards the center of the lobby. Michael, Charlotte's boyfriend, shook Joseph's hand. Michael wore a black baseball cap, a button-up shirt, and black jeans. The clothing was well-fitted to his muscular body. His chiseled jawline was covered in stubble. Based off of appearance alone, he was the type of man Cindy desired – he was her real dream man.

  Charlotte asked, “How are you, Cin?”

  Cindy smiled and responded, “I'm good, I'm good. I've been, you know, trying to lose a few pounds before your big day.”

  “Oh, don't worry about that, hun. Really, you look fine. You'll make all of the guys go crazy. Trust me.”

  Chiming-in, Joseph said, “Hey, hey, hey. I don't want the guys to go crazy. If they go crazy, then I'm going to go crazy, too. You don't want to see that.”

  “I don't think anyone wants to see that, Joe,” Michael joked.

  The group shared a genuine chuckle. The group had a strong bond. Joseph could handle the teasing as much as he could dish it out. As far as joking went, Cindy was strictly off limits. Joseph wouldn't allow it and Charlotte would certainly kick up a storm against anyone who spoke badly about her friend.

  The group dynamic benefited one more than the others, but such was life.

  Charlotte asked, “What did you guys watch?”

  Joseph responded, “We watched that revenge thriller that just came out. It's... It's pretty gnarly stuff. The ending was–”

  “Okay, that's all I need to know. I think we're here to watch the same movie, too, so no spoilers. You know, we should really get together for a double date later. I mean, we can go out to dinner, catch a movie, go for a walk... I think it would be nice for all of us. It would...”

  Cindy couldn't pay attention to her beloved friend. Her eyes wandered as she examined the bustling lobby. Standing at the center, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed like an anxious teen during a school play – she forgot her lines, she choked. The other customers walked around the group, snickering and chattering, but she felt as if she were the center of attention.

  The insecure woman felt as if all of the eyes in the lobby were glued to her fluffy figure. She glanced at the posters and standees, baffled by the unusual experience. Like the Mona Lisa, the eyes on the promotional materials seemed to be focused solely on her. She was unnerved by the eerie sensation of being watched.

  Cindy coughed to disrupt the ongoing conversation, then she said, “That sounds great. We should set something up later. I think I should head home now, though. I'm feeling a little tired. It's been a long week for me.”

  Charlotte nodded and said, “Oh, okay. That's fine, hun. Go ahead. I'll call you tomorrow. We can go out for a small lunch and a drink... or two. Have a good night, Cin.”

  “You, too. Good night.”

  Cindy hugged Charlotte, reassured by the woman's friendly warmth. For a moment, all of her problems were whisked away and she felt accepted. The moment was short-lived, though. She waved at her close friend, then she walked towards the exit. Joseph shook Michael's hand, he hugged Charlotte, then he followed his girlfriend's lead. He was her ride home after all.

  Chapter Three

  Home Sweet Home

  The cherry-red pick-up truck rolled to a stop in the alley, parking outside of a four-story apartment complex. Most of the lights in the building were already off. Hardworking parents and students were sleeping, waiting for the next day of their monotonous lives. A few teenagers lingered in the neighboring parking lot, smoking and bickering. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

  From the driver's seat, Joseph glanced at Cindy and said, “We should probably talk.”

  Cindy vacantly stared at the apartment complex through the passenger window. The walls were chipped and vandalized with graffiti from local gangs and tagging crews. There was a beat-up car parked in the alley – the junk didn't even run. She had a roof over her head, she had a door with a lock, but she wasn't content with her working-class status. She wasn't content with her life.

  Absently staring at the building, Cindy asked, “About what?”

  Joseph sighed, then he responded, “Well, we should talk about you and your feelings. You've been acting different lately, Cin. I've been trying to help. I didn't want to bring it up and make it a big deal, but... you're just not acting like yourself. You've changed. I thought, you know, you might want to talk about it.”

  “Talking probably won't help.”

  “It can. You never know, right?”

  Cindy glanced over a
t Joseph. She clenched her fists and jaw, trying to control her anger. She was flustered by his prying, but she could see his intentions were good. Despite her occasionally rotten attitude and snarky outbursts, the man genuinely cared about her well-being.

  Cindy said, “Fine. Let's talk about it. Let's talk about my weight issues. Let's talk about me weighing over 250 fucking pounds. Let's talk about me being twice the size of most girls. No, three times the size of these little girls. Let's talk about... about being bullied. Huh? How does that sound? We can talk about taking shit from everyone and never being able to throw that shit back. Is that what you want to talk about?”

  Joseph nodded as he gazed into his girlfriend's teary eyes. He said, “Yeah. That's what I want to talk about. Whatever you have to say, I can handle it. All that 'shit' you've been holding, you can throw it at me. I can take it, babe. Get it off your chest.”

  “I'm sure you can take it, Joe. I mean, shit, you're bigger than me. You've been going through the same crap as me. I–I don't know how you do it. I guess you have thicker skin or maybe your fat just absorbs it. Maybe you're just–”

  Cindy stopped her tirade mid-sentence, mouth wide open as if she had just watched a movie with a twist ending – which she did. Her mind finally caught up to her flapping lips. Her words were rude and harmful, a reflection of her tormented past. Although she sought a better body, she didn't seek to adopt a snobby attitude with it.

  She shook her head and said, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

  Joseph, unperturbed by the verbal assault, shrugged and said, “It's okay. It's fine. I told you: I can handle it.”

  “No, I was wrong to put it all on you. You're not the problem. I just... I just have self-esteem issues, obviously. I want to be skinny like everyone else. That's all. I guess I'm getting tired of all of the bullshit. I'm just starting to hate everyone and everything.”

  “Hate? That's a bit strong, isn't it?”

  Cindy erratically blinked, as if she had snapped out of a trance. She stuttered, “I–I didn't... I didn't mean it like that. It was... I'm just caught in my emotions. Forget about it.”

  Joseph examined Cindy's distraught demeanor. He wasn't offended by her attack, but he was worried about the hatred she harbored within. Depression was difficult to remedy. Blending depression with hatred could lead to some potentially violent outbursts. He couldn't sit back and watch the love of his life head down such a dark path.

  Joseph said, “We can always get help, babe. You know, we can talk to professionals about all of this. I'll cover the cost, too. You don't have to worry about money or any of that. I'll take care of it.”

  Cindy nervously smiled and shook her head as she wiped the tears from her blushed cheeks. She said, “No. I don't need a 'professional.' I just need to focus on my exercise and my diet. Everything else is... a non-issue. I'm just over-thinking it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I'm positive. I'm an emotional girl. That's all.”

  “Do you... Do you hate me because of my weight?”

  Yes – the word almost slipped through her plump lips. The anxious smile was wiped off her face as she turned towards her boyfriend. She disliked his obese figure, she often ogled lean men, but she tried not to hate him because of his weight. Hate was a strong word after all. At heart, though, she loved him as much as she hated him – contradicting emotions blended in her unhinged mind.

  Cindy said, “No. No, of course not. You're the only person I ever loved. You make me feel like... like a human. I feel like a monster around everyone else, but I feel loved and appreciated around you. I could never hate you because of your weight. That would be stupid, hun.”

  Joseph gazed into Cindy's eyes, trying to decipher the sincerity behind her words. He bit his bottom lip and nodded. He could tell she was fibbing. It was a white lie, but a lie nonetheless. His weight was a problem in the relationship and the fact irked him.

  Cindy leaned closer, placed her hands on Joseph's cheeks, and said, “I love you, sweetie. I love you with all of my heart. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for taking care of me.” She planted a passionate kiss on his lips – a kiss fueled by love. She smirked and said, “We need to do this again. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

  As Cindy exited the truck, Joseph nodded and said, “Alright. Call me if you need anything. I love you.”

  Strolling towards the entrance of the building, Cindy waved and shouted, “I love you, too!”

  Cindy stopped at the foyer of the apartment complex. She watched as Joseph drove away, making sure he was safe. Her heart was bruised, beaten black and blue by years of verbal abuse, but she still had a shred of love and respect in her body.

  ***

  The hinges squealed like a pig in mud as the door slowly swung open, echoing through the silent building. The hallway light poured into the small studio apartment, forcing the shadows to dart to the darkest corners. The apartment was lonely, dark and desolate.

  Cindy stepped through the doorway and flicked a switch near the door. A light in the neighboring kitchen nearly illuminated the entire apartment. The young woman closed the door, then she tossed her bag on the kitchen counter.

  She muttered, “Back to the same old crap...”

  She grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge, then she leaned on the counter. She glanced around her apartment as she took a swig of her juice – as if she had accidentally entered a stranger's home.

  She could see her queen-sized bed directly ahead. There was a sofa at the foot of the bed. Across from the sofa, there was a dresser with a large flat-screen television on top. Her bedroom and living room were simple, sharing the same space.

  She sighed as she glanced at her front door – an escape. There was a door leading to the bathroom near the exit. She lived alone, but she still enjoyed the privacy of the bathroom. It was her safe space in the tiny studio apartment.

  As she stared into the fridge, examining the fatty foods and drinks, the troubled woman said, “I have Joseph, but... he's not enough. He's not here for me. I'm alone. I'm all alone.” Teary-eyed, she stared down at her body and whispered, “What's the point of this stupid diet? Huh? It never changes anything, so why am I torturing myself? It's so damn stupid. I'm such an idiot. I'm a fat fucking idiot.”

  Tears gushing from her eyes, she sniffled as she grabbed a bucket of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. She tossed the transparent bucket on the counter, then she grabbed a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. With a large spoon, she blended a glob of peanut butter with the ice cream. The treat was full of fat, but she had already lost all hope anyway.

  What was the point of dieting if there were never any results?

  Cindy sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and the bucket of ice cream situated on her lap. She covered herself in a fleece blanket, but she could still feel the cold bucket on her legs. It didn't matter, though. She persevered through the cold in order to eat her favorite snack. She choked down spoonfuls of the blended ice cream as she flipped through the channels on her television.

  She wanted to escape from her depression, but she found herself running deeper into the abyss. The television programs depicted beautiful people on every channel – soap operas, comedy commentary shows, and even the news. She was dismayed by all of the rich, famous, and attractive people on TV. Sure, most of them were beautified through makeup and effective lighting, but the explanation didn't cross her mind.

  Mouth full of ice cream and cheeks moistened with tears, Cindy mumbled, “They–They're beautiful. They're so beautiful. They get more and more beautiful every day. They... They can't do that for me. Makeup can't make me beautiful. Makeup can't save me. I can't be like them. I can't.”

  Infuriated, she tossed the bucket onto the neighboring cushion, allowing the melted ice cream to stream across the sofa. She rushed to the bathroom and shoved the door open with all of her might. Breathing heavily through her nose, trying her damnedest to control herself, she flicked the switch near the do
or. With feral eyes, the eyes of an undomesticated dog, she searched the illuminated room.

  Cindy staggered to her knees near the toilet. As she pulled a glass scale from behind the toilet, she said, “You... You're the reason I hate myself every morning. You're the reason I can't look at myself in the mirror. I exercise, I diet, but the numbers never change. I spent a hundred dollars so you could give me an accurate number, so you could motivate me, but it was all bullshit! It was a waste of time and money! It was bullshit!”

  Cindy gritted her teeth and hurled the scale at the bathroom mirror. The mirror shattered into a dozen sharp shards, which fell into the sink below. The scale cracked and snapped as it collided with the counter. The sound of glass smashing and shattering echoed through the studio apartment. The hysterical weeping and self-talk likely disturbed the neighbors, but the troubled woman did not care.

  She was caught in her emotions.

  Cindy held her hands to her rosy nose as she leaned on the wall behind her and stared at the sink. She gazed at the sparkling glass, pondering her waste of money and time. A persistent and disturbing thought continued to roar over the others, reverberating through her tormented mind. Suicide, she thought, I can leave this shitty place, I can end my pain forever.

  Teary-eyed, she stared at her wrist and whispered, “If–If I cut them vertically... I won't come back to this terrible place. They can't revive me. There... There's no coming back from it, is there?”

  Her eyes widened as a growling sound emerged from the bathroom doorway. The front door was closed, her apartment was located on the upper-floors, and dogs weren't allowed in the building. It couldn't be an animal – the mere fact terrified her. As her bottom lip quivered, she slowly turned her head towards the doorway.