Impish

CHAPTER 9: DAHMERED

Surprisingly enough, especially given the literal state of America that we are in and the down-home aesthetic of the establishment, the bathrooms here aren't really segregated by gender. There's just a sign for a bathroom. It's not even a family restroom. It's all toilets and stalls. It's not completely unwelcome, though. I enjoy it.

Because I hesitate and marvel for a second too long, Roux sighs and pulls me into the bathroom. It's dirtier than I expected. Filth is caked into the tetromino-shaped tiles on the walls, and the sink looks like it hasn't been cleaned in years.

And, just like that, I'm thinking about Tetris again. I'm pretty good at it, especially for someone who doesn't practice all that much. How well I do depends on the console, who I'm playing against, and how long I have been playing that day. That doesn't matter. There are more important things happening.

"Sinks. Now," they way in a hushed, strained voice, speaking through gritted teeth.

I roll my eyes, but I obey. I lean against the wall next to the sink with my arms crossed, trying not to think about the filth there. "What? What's going on?"

Roux looks around, obviously paranoid, and turns on one of the sinks to mask what they're going to say next. I have no idea what could be making them act like this until they open up their mouth and tell me.

"I think it's human meat," they whisper.

"What?" Genuinely, I have no idea what to say to that. What are you supposed to say when someone has been accused of cannibalism? I don't have the words. They don't come to me.

"Human. Meat." Roux is dead serious. "That's not any meat I've ever tasted before, and you know how much my parents love weird meats. And I've seen human meat described. I think it's human meat."

"I think you're stereotyping Ozun because he's a demon."

"I'm not, I swear."

"Roux, you're--"

"I know it sounds insane. I know. I just-- I need you to believe me. I need you to help me make sure that this isn't what's happening."

I sigh, rolling my eyes but entirely willing. "Fine! Fine. I'll help. We'll just go, okay? Or we can check in the kitchen?"

"Can we check, please? I want to put this out of my mind. We can laugh about this later. I just-- I need assurance now, right now."

"Okay. Roux, it's fine. We'll just go check in the kitchen. It's fine."

They nod. "Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I reach out and turn off the sink.

I return to the restaurant with Roux following close behind. I'm not sure how to approach them and, truth be told, any and all confidence I may have had runs out of my body like diarrhea. I'm not referring to confidence regarding the nature of the meat but, rather, my confidence in my father or that I have ever done the right thing.

Doug and Ozun are kissing on the booth's table. Ozun is practically on top of Doug, crawling up his front; Doug has his ass against and slightly on the edge of the table. He has pushed back the food that was there. Doug is leaning back slightly, with his hand in a small puddle of vinegary ketchup. Ozun's chest is against his, just like his lips.

And, truth be told once again, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to make of this. I feel like I'm watching something I shouldn't be. Roux must be feeling the same way because they, jokingly, reach one hand up to cover my eyes. Despite the heavy nature of what they just told me, they still try to make all of this a little more light and less awkward.