Meat Family

Chapter 16

Hard times

Mother,

dear mother, the years have been

long since i last heard your lullaby song

After this overwhelming experience, where Brock now knew all the secrets of his family, he lay in bed trying to process everything. Throughout his entire childhood, he and his family had eaten... people.

They were truly cannibals, even Ramón and maybe Miguel knew about it, but the whole llum Estrella wouldn't know, would they? The entire village would go into a panic if they knew that cannibals lived right next door. And where did they get the food? Mom would never prepare food from her old home's residents... And speaking of Mom, how did she react, and wouldn't she go crazy knowing that she had been cooking people and feeding them to her children? He had never seen any reaction from Mom while she was cooking, but then a thought struck him: did she know about it? Of course, she must have known. Mom wasn't stupid and would surely know about the bodies in the basement.

He should maybe ask her. Did Dad tell her that he now knew about the existence of the Gluttony Curse?

"Dinner is ready!" he heard his mom call from downstairs. Brock swallowed hard, already nervous beforehand.

Dinner.

Would it be different now that he knew every bite came from a human? This question burned into his mind and made him anxious. He had already taken a shower, hoping to wash away the thoughts, but they clung to him. He took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled; he just had to get through this evening... and then tomorrow again... and again, forever and ever...

Brock shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He would eat with his family as usual, he could handle it.

"I still can't believe that Christmas is coming up soon. Will I finally get that dress I've wanted for sooooo long, Dad?" Sally asked, looking at her father with puppy-dog eyes.

Her father grumbled and scratched his beard. "You're already thinking about that?"

"Mhm! Better than never."

"Then you have to be very good," Sabine said, looking at her little sister cheekily.

Sally bit her cheek angrily. "I am good! All year long!"

"As often as I see you snooping through my private things, I don't think so."

"That's not me! It's Sera."

"Because you always force me to," Sera complained from beside her.

"Girls, please..." Michael sighed wearily.

Brock sat down next to Sabine at his place. The sweet aroma wafting from the kitchen filled the entire room, evoking dark memories that Brock forced himself to suppress. This made the situation even more challenging, especially since he could feel the hard gaze of his father on him.

He heard his mom calling for the twins to help her. Both went into the kitchen and returned with the food. They placed a dish on each seat. Brock stared anxiously at his meal.

Chili con carne.

Brock's absolute favorite dish, but now that he knew what it contained, he felt uneasy.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sabine asked him, nudging him lightly on the shoulder.

He nodded nervously. "Yeah, I, um—just daydreaming a lot lately," he lied.

"The past few days have been tough on you," he heard his mom say as she took her seat. "You should rest more."

"Not that you'll get worse dark circles under your eyes, like Dad," Sally added, pointing her fork at their father. Her father said nothing and ate his meal with a bored expression, which was typical for him.

The orange-haired boy swallowed hard and then picked up his fork, noticing how his hand trembled slightly. It shouldn't be this difficult to just eat. But the thoughts of how those people had died—innocent people—and how much Brock had consumed in his life without knowing, were overwhelming. His life and sanity depended on it. He didn't want to be trapped in that dark room again, knowing what his body would do if it happened. He didn't want to hurt his family, or anyone else for that matter. But wasn't he doing just that? He was consuming the flesh of someone who surely had a family waiting for them at home, someone who might have had a great future, someone who—

"Brock, you're shaking," his concerned mother said. He realized how intensely his hand and body were trembling and how sweat was dripping from his forehead. His siblings looked at him with wide eyes.

"I—I..." Brock stammered. Why had the room suddenly become so hot? It was too much for him, so he jumped up from his chair and hurried up the stairs. He heard his mother calling after him, but he didn't want to stop. He just wanted to be alone.

When he was in his room, he slammed the door behind him and collapsed onto his bed. He pressed his pillow into his face, wishing he could scream to release all his anger and fear, but he lacked the strength, so he cried instead. He sobbed quietly into his pillow, feeling like he couldn't take it anymore. He longed to be back at Redwood Academy, in his room with Ryan, in his arms, talking about his day and how everyone in his class annoyed him. Ryan's voice was soothing, and his scent was so familiar; he missed him terribly. But he was gone. On some days, he heard his phone vibrating with Ryan's name, as if hoping for a message or sign from his friend, but Brock couldn't respond. It was the only way to protect him, because he was a monster.

He heard his bedroom door slowly creaking open and the sweet smell returning. Someone had brought him his food. He tried to stifle his sobs, but a few still escaped. He heard the person place the plate on his nightstand and sit down beside him.

"Brock," he heard his mother's gentle voice as she softly stroked his shoulder. "I know it's hard to digest." So she already knew that his father had told him everything. "You know, it was hard for me too to accept, and I often thought about leaving, but I couldn't leave him alone."

She was referring to Michael. Brock knew from his father that he had killed his parents when he was young and had probably been alone for years. "If you need someone to talk to, we're here for you. We just want to protect you. We love you, Brock."

Slowly, Brock lifted himself into a sitting position, removing the pillow from his face. He felt the tears and snot sticking to his skin and turned towards his mom. He wanted to tell her so much—how everything was dragging him down, how sick he was of it all. How much everything hurt. How he wished for a normal life. But all he could do was let the tears keep running down his cheeks, and the only word he could manage was:

"M-Mom..."

before he broke down into tears again.

His mother frowned and gathered him into her arms. Brock wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder as he cried. Marie gently stroked his back to calm him. In her arms, he felt like a small child, even though it always embarrassed him when she treated him this way. On some days, he longed to be cradled in her arms, to forget all his worries for a few moments.

"You'll get through this," his mother whispered to him. "You'll eventually get used to all of this. The beginning is always hard, but don't be afraid.

I'm always by your side."