You Found Me |Sam Winchester| [2015 Wattys Winner]

31. Hunger Pains

31. Hunger Pains

We were back at St. James Medical Center the next night. Dr. Corman had made the call, Sam and I went. I wasn't too happy about going back to the morgue, but I didn't want Sam to go on his own. Oddly enough, I didn't feel as sick the second time we met Dr. Corman in the morgue.

"You said you wanted to hear about any other weird ones," he told us.

"Okay," I said, wondering what he was going to show us.

Dr. Corman led us to a gurney, where a corpse with a very distended belly laid. My eyebrows scrunched together.

"Lester Finch," said the doctor. "Pulled his records. Looks like this gentleman used to weigh four hundred pounds or so, till he got a gastric bypass, which brought down his weight considerably. But then for some reason, last night, he decided to go on a twinkie binge."

"So, he died from a twinkie binge?" I asked slowly.

"Well, after he blew out the band around his stomach, he filled it up till it burst. When he could no longer swallow, he started jamming the cakes down his gullet with a...with a toilet brush, like he was ramrodding a cannon."

Sam and I looked at each other before he spoke, "So, what do you make of it?"

"I'd say that it was a very peculiar thing to do." Dr. Corman pulled out a flask and took a swig.

Very peculiar indeed. This guy was a solo act. No pattern with the past two couples who'd met their bad end on Valentine's Day. There had to be some connection, though, since the death was up our alley.

Despite being in a room full of cadavers, on our way out from the medical center, my stomach growled as though I'd been starving myself lately. It got louder with each complaint. It got so bad to the point where I had my hands on it, as though that would silence it.

"Upset stomach?" Sam asked me as we headed out the doors.

"No, just...hungry apparently," I said. "I've been fine, though."

Sam pulled out his phone and looked around to make sure nobody was nearby before he put it on speaker. At Dean's voice, Sam began to report our findings.

"So, uh, this guy was not marked by Cupid, but his death is definitely suspicious," he rattled off.

"Yeah, well, I just went through the police blotter, and counting him, that's eight suicides since Wednesday and nineteen ODs—That's way out of the seasonal batting average."

"Yeah, if there's a pattern here, it ain't just love. It's a hell of a lot bigger than we thought." I looked at Sam suspiciously when he rubbed his temple.