Bad Appetites: A Body Horror Novel

by Jon Athan

  With a mouthful of cat flesh, fur, and maggots, Cindy glanced towards her right. A frail elderly man with slick white hair and a grizzled beard approached. He wore layers and layers of tattered coats and matching pants. His boots were dilapidated but effective. Judging from his clothing and the full backpack slung over his shoulders, she could see the man was homeless – a drifter.

  As she devoured her meal, Cindy said, “Keep walking, bud. This is mine.”

  The man stopped three meters away from the young woman. He stared at her with a furrowed brow, baffled by her eccentric behavior. He glanced at the neighboring street, then down the alleyway. In his benign eyes, the woman appeared alone and helpless. She was eating a rotting cat, but she did not seem malicious. He stumbled upon a lost soul – or so he thought.

  The man knelt down in front of Cindy and asked, “What's your name, miss? What are you doing out here?”

  Cindy tore off another chunk of the cat with her teeth. As she chewed the flesh, she asked, “What do you care, old man?”

  The homeless man smiled and said, “I must apologize for my prying nature. I shouldn't be asking for your name when you don't even know mine.” He glanced at the luminous moon, as if he were reminiscing. He said, “My name is Charles. Charles Hamilton. You can call me 'Charlie,' though. It's friendlier.”

  “That's great, Charlie, but what the hell do you want from me?”

  “Well, you obviously caught my attention. I'm not going to judge you for what you do, I know the lengths humans can go to for survival from personal experience, but I would like to offer you a helping hand. That's all. I guess you can call it my good deed of the day. It's a new day after all.”

  “You want to help me? Why?”

  Charlie couldn't help but smile as he heard the simple question. He stared into the woman's zany eyes, then at the rotting cat. He wasn't worried about the blood on her face and throat – he figured it came from the carcass. Judging from her poor skin and deranged behavior, he assumed she was an unhinged drug addict. He had seen similar reactions to drug abuse in his life.

  Charlie said, “I used to be addicted to heroin. I used to inject, smoke, and even snort black tar heroin as often as possible. The good stuff, you know? I sold my soul for it. I ate... Well, let's just say I often ate things that were much worse than a dead cat to survive. I was able to quit, though. I found confidence in myself, I joined a caring support group, and I searched for real happiness in my life. I won't pressure you into anything, but I can help you escape your addiction if you'd like. I can help you find the light. What do you say?”

  Cindy stared at the kind vagrant with a deadpan expression. The man was sincere, but he was clearly confused. When he stared at the young woman, he solely saw a reflection of his past. He saw a lost, starved, and confused person. The deranged woman, however, was something much worse. She was a survivor.

  Cindy smirked and said, “I don't need to find the light. No, I think I prefer the dark. You can help me, though.”

  “I see. Well, I can't help you get more drugs and I don't have any money to give you, but I suppose I can offer a helping hand. What do you need, miss? Some water? A snack?”

  “Food.”

  “Food? I don't have much in my bag, but I think I have some chocolate bars. I've got a sweet tooth, you know? Let me get something for you.”

  Charlie chuckled as he removed his backpack. Before he could open his bag, Cindy leaped from the ground and pounced on the man. The pair tumbled to the floor. Charlie shook and coughed as the back of his head hit the pavement. Enfeebled by the blow to the head, he trembled as he tried to wrestle with his attacker. He couldn't fend off the vicious woman, though.

  Cindy snarled, then she bit into his neck. She punctured his jugular with her mighty bite. Blood jetted from his neck and spurted from the wound, spattering onto the moist pavement. The plopping noise was accompanied by a loud munching sound. The feast could be heard throughout the entire alleyway, echoing past the neighboring buildings.

  Yet, the cars on the neighboring street continued to trudge along. No one seemed to notice the brutal attack in public.

  As his arms fell to his side in a motion of defeat, Charlie weakly said, “Why... Why are you... I was just...”

  Cindy ripped a chunk of flesh from Charlie's neck with her teeth, then she spat the flesh back onto his face. Charlie's eyelids fluttered and his head swayed due to the shock. He couldn't comprehend her actions, he couldn't stop the bleeding. He hyperventilated, breathing heavily through his nose and gasping for life.

  Cindy sneered in disgust as she leaned forward. She stared at the bloodied slab of flesh on Charlie's nose, then she gazed into the man's blue eyes. From her limited experience with murder, she recognized the lusterless look in his eyes. She could see the glimmer dissipating as he slowly departed. With one final wheeze, the generous homeless man passed away.

  The troubled woman said, “Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't need your help. I just need you and your kind to get out of my way. I will take this, though.”

  She leaned closer to Charlie's face, then she slurped the flesh into her mouth. The meat filled her mouth, causing her cheeks to balloon. She gnawed on the flesh as if she were chewing an entire pack of gum.

  She glanced down at his bag and said, “I'll be taking this, too. Thank you.”

  Cindy snickered as she riffled through Charlie's bag. She found extra coats, a few pamphlets, and a neatly rolled newspaper – nothing of use. She browsed the smaller pockets and found five chocolate bars and an empty tin can. She took the chocolate and left the can. She didn't plan on begging for money anyway.

  As she unwrapped a bar, she glanced down the alley and said, “I'm getting closer, but I'm going to need more if I'm going to survive.”

  With a mouthful of chocolate and blood, she ran down the alleyway and headed towards the houses beyond the horizon.

  ***

  Aside from a few street lamps, the neighborhood was dominated by darkness. Cindy plodded across the pleasant community, waddling down the sidewalk like a penguin in the Arctic. She breathed heavily through her crushed nose as she munched on her final chocolate bar – a survivor savoring her very last ration. Although her obnoxious chewing could be heard throughout the neighborhood, the young woman was hidden by the shadows.

  She glanced around the neighborhood in search of the perfect house to burglarize. With each meal she consumed, she could feel herself recovering. She received more energy from the human flesh, but she wouldn't mind feasting on an everyday meal. She didn't want to cause another scene anyway. She could feel the massacre at the Mosaic Apartments catching up to her.

  After all, survival would be useless if she ended up in prison for her actions.

  Although most of the houses were identical, her options were wide. There were over one-hundred houses in the community. Each house featured two-stories, a decent front lawn, and a spacious backyard. The houses weren't expensive or luxurious, but they would surely be stocked with food. However, all of the homes seemed to be equipped with home security systems.

  Cindy clicked her tongue, then she whispered, “Which one of you is the stupidest? Hmm? Did any of you forget to set your alarms? I hope so. I really hope so. If not, I'm–”

  She stopped and glanced over her shoulder with wide eyes upon hearing a purring engine. She crouched behind a truck, barely evading the oncoming vehicle's headlights. A white sedan cruised down the street, rolling at less than ten miles per hour. Fortunately for Cindy, the driver parked in a driveway five houses down. Convenient, she thought.

  Cindy limped towards the neighboring truck, staying low and nimble. She narrowed her eyes as she peered at the parked sedan. A man exited the driver's seat and a woman hopped out of the passenger's seat – a couple.

  The young man, no older than his late 20s, was lean and dapper. His slick black hair was cut high-and-tight. His chiseled face was clean shaved – not a stray hair in sight. He wore a crisp white button-up shirt with the
sleeves rolled up, black slacks, and matching dress shoes. The man was effortlessly handsome and charismatic.

  The petite woman – his beloved wife – had curly black hair and glimmering brown eyes. She wore a black maxi dress under a black coat, which clearly belonged to her husband. She was a beautiful woman with an endearing smile. She glowed with a heavenly aura, inspiring hope and love in the dreariest heart.

  Cindy wasn't susceptible to the woman's spell, though. In fact, she immediately despised the couple. She was envious of their love and wealth. She had only seen them for a minute and she already felt like she knew them for an eternity. While she lived a nightmare, the graceful woman was living her dream. Life wasn't fair.

  Teary-eyed, Cindy clenched her jaw and tilted her head as she watched the couple. The woman entered the back seat. Her husband gently patted her butt, teasing her. Their giggling was harmonious, tender and genuine. The woman emerged with a baby girl in her arms. The infant, no older than a year old, prattled and moaned, irked by her sudden awakening.

  The woman smiled at her husband and said, “Stop messing around and open the door, George. If she starts crying, you're going to spend the night with her.”

  George patted his wife's butt again and said, “Yeah, yeah. I wouldn't want my girls to cry all night.” As he walked up the decomposed granite walkway, he glanced over at his wife and said, “Don't forget to grab her blanket, Maribel. She'll cry for that, too. She always does...”

  George and Maribel, Cindy thought, the perfect couple. With a hunched back, she limped towards the house. She hid behind the white picket fence, using the darkness to her advantage. She could see Maribel shuffling about in the back seat, tugging on a pink blanket. When she finally retrieved the blanket, she slammed the door, then she strolled towards the front porch.

  As she staggered towards the driveway, Cindy whispered, “I can't miss my chance. No, no... I have to eat. I have to...”

  Cindy snarled as she lurched towards the porch. Before the door could be sealed, she forced herself into the home. The door quickly swung open, crashing with the neighboring coat tree. George and Maribel gasped and hopped from the unexpected intrusion.

  With his hands up, George stuttered, “Wha–What... What are you doing? We...”

  The young man was flabbergasted by Cindy's bloodied, deformed figure. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was choked by his anxiety. He slowly stepped in reverse as he held his arm in front of Maribel and his child, pushing them back to safety.

  Cindy breathed heavily as she glared at the family. She glanced around the home, curious. An archway to her right led to the living room. The parallel archway to her left led to the kitchen. Down the hall, she could see several doors on the left and a staircase at the end. The home was simple yet elegant – exactly as she expected.

  She sneered in disgust and shook her head, flustered. She lived in a studio apartment without her own bedroom while the family lived in a two-story house in a safe neighborhood. The fact was difficult to accept. Jealousy clouded her mind.

  George held his hands up in a peaceful gesture – I mean no harm. He said, “Please, take whatever you want and leave. We won't try to stop you and we won't call the cops. Don't do anything stupid, okay? Don't do anything rash.”

  Cindy smirked as she gazed into George's eyes. She could see the fear lingering in his soul. Maribel was equally terrified, shuddering as she held her baby girl to her chest. The baby was unusually quiet, though.

  Cindy stared at the infant and said, “I want the baby. I want her.”

  With a quivering lip, Maribel stuttered, “Wha–What? We... We're not going to give you our baby. You can take our furniture or our–our money, but you're not taking my child.”

  “I want the baby.”

  “No! No, you're not taking my baby!”

  George held his hands up, calling for peace. He said, “Everyone just calm down.” He stared at Cindy with inquisitive eyes and said, “You don't want to do this. Whatever you're on, the city can get you help. You don't want our girl. Think about it.”

  Eyes brimming over with tears, Cindy explained, “I've thought about it all my life. I've... I've always wanted a baby girl of my own. I wanted my own house, I wanted a handsome husband, I wanted... I wanted everything you have. I couldn't have it last year and I can't have it now. I've always been so damn fat and disgusting.” She giggled as she stared down at herself, delirious. In an instant, she stopped laughing and shouted, “Look at me now! I'm worse than before!”

  George said, “Calm down. Just relax, okay? We can talk this out.” He glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “Hit the alarm and run into the nursery. Don't–”

  “Look at me!” Cindy interrupted with a fierce shout. “Look at me, you bastard! I'm a monster! It doesn't matter to you, does it? You're just waiting until the police show up so they can gun me down. Well, that's not happening. I'm going to live, no matter what. You? Well, I'm not so sure about you.”

  Before George could respond, Cindy growled and sprinted down the hall. She snarled as she leaped onto him. The floorboards groaned as the pair hit the floor like a person on fire. Without a second thought, the deranged woman bit into his throat. With her limited experience in murder, she had learned to kill efficiently with her teeth.

  George did not go down without a fight, though. He tried to pummel the intruder, punching her head and ribs with all of his might. To his dismay, he could not weaken the grip on his neck. Latched onto him with the might of a crocodile's jaw, the savage woman could not be defeated. Struggling to breathe, he glanced towards the hall.

  Maribel watched the violent attack in awe, paralyzed by her fear. She glanced at her baby girl, then towards her ravaged husband. She shrieked at the top of her lungs, then she sprinted down the hall. She stumbled into the last room on the left. The ensuring click sound of a door locking echoed down the hallway.

  George did not blame her for retreating. He found some relief in his family's temporary security. He grunted and groaned as a chunk of flesh was torn from the left side of his throat. He wheezed as he was bitten again. A cold sweat materialized across his body as he felt the woman's sharp teeth penetrating his Adam's apple. He went into shock, trembling like a man suffering from withdrawals.

  Cindy chewed the bloodied slab, then she swallowed. She didn't bother waiting for her victim to pass away. His throat was mutilated beyond repair. Half of his throat was practically torn off, leaving a bloody crater on his neck. She staggered down the hall until she reached the final door. She could see the finish line on the horizon.

  Once again, the rush of murder revitalized her – death brought her closer to life.

  ***

  Cindy smiled smugly as she leaned on the wall. She said, “I know you're in there, sweetie. You don't look like the type to leave your man.” She moaned as she seductively licked the blood from her finger. She said, “You should come out here. I want you to see your 'sweet' husband.”

  Maribel shouted, “Leave us alone! I called the cops! I... I called...”

  She couldn't keep her facade afloat. Coddling her sweet baby, she sobbed and staggered to her knees near the door. She heard the munching and gurgling in the corridor, but she couldn't accept her husband's unfortunate death.

  Cindy knocked and said, “Open the door and I'll make it easier for you. Trust me, sweetie, I've done all of this before. I've rammed doors down and I can do it again. It won't be very hard, especially with this fancy furniture you have around here.”

  Maribel did not respond. Cindy could hear her husky breathing, though. She didn't waste any time and she wouldn't allow her to escape. She had the opportunity to survive and she couldn't risk losing it. The baby's image flashed in her mind as well, teasing her.

  Cindy sighed in disappointment, frustrated by Maribel's lack of cooperation. The hard way was never preferred, but it was often necessary. She grabbed a sturdy console table in the hall, then she smashed the side of the furniture on the door. The door
groaned and rattled with the hit. In reverse, she stepped through a parallel archway, then she rushed forward. The door swung open with the impact of the makeshift battering ram.

  Cindy grinned and enthusiastically said, “Here's Cindy!” She giggled and shook her head, amused. She said, “I love that line.”

  She couldn't help but smile as she spotted Maribel on the other side of the room. The young mother sobbed as she struggled to open a window with one hand. She held her baby in her other arm, refusing to release her for a second.

  Cindy said, “Stop. Don't make us do this the hard way. I've done that enough already. Besides, I feel like... like I'm almost getting better. I don't need much more.”

  Maribel stopped her frantic attempt to escape. She glanced around the room, searching for a viable exit to no avail. Cindy stood in front of the door across the room. On the parallel wall from the door, there were four windows overlooking the backyard. Unfortunately, the windows required more effort than a single free hand could offer. The young mother was trapped in the small nursery.

  Cindy stared at the crib towards the center of the room, then she glanced at a bookshelf near the door. She said, “This room is... beautiful. You did a good job for her. A great job, really.” She ran her fingertips across the baby blue walls, mesmerized by the soft color. She said, “The walls, too. They remind me of the sky. I... I would have picked the same color.”

  Maribel sniffled and asked, “What do you want from me?”

  “I just want food.”

  “There's food in the kitchen. Take whatever you want.”

  “Yes. I will take the food from the kitchen, but I need more than a few meals. I need blood. I need flesh. That's what makes me feel better. So, there are two things that can happen here now. You can give yourself to me, then I'll leave. Or, I'll kill you and your baby, then I'll leave. What's your choice?”

  Maribel stared down at her baby, saddened. The girl babbled, spewing a stream of incomprehensible baby talk. The young mother stroked her child's short black hair. A tear plunged from her eyelids and plopped on the girl's cheek. Although she was not fully aware of her surroundings, the baby was clearly unnerved by her mother's anxiety.