METANOIA

TAYLOR CAKED

Barry couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Buddy was equally frantic as he walked about in circles holding his hair. He kept repeating "this is bad; really, really bad."

Lucy put a reassuring hand on Barry's shoulder. He couldn't feel it physically, but he knew it was there. His raspy voice inspirited Barry. "There is nothing you can do for her, Barry."

Her phone lit up as Barry stared at her twisted neck. It was Sarah. Barry had a hard time reading the message because the tears further skewed his already blurred vision. She was asking if she was coming. Barry picked up her phone. He tried typing a reply back, but he just couldn't hold it together to type a message. The phone dropped from his hands.

The glass screen cracked against the tiles, and the sound echoed the ringing inside his ears.

Barry placed his back against the counter and started sobbing uncontrollably. He slammed his fist against the metal counter a few times.

Lucy leaned in, "Barry, you silly sod, you need to hide the body." Barry raised his head to meet his eyes.

"Hide the body?" His voice cracked.

Lucy nodded, "They will come looking for her. You know this."

Barry's nose was running. His lower lip trembled, and he couldn't even muster a reply. He felt light headed. His heart was racing again. He swallowed another aspirin. He remembered the breathing exercises Melinda used to do to help her relax.

Breathe in, hold, and then release slowly with a hiss.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Breathe in, hold, release.

He felt it working. Melinda's memory was somewhat helpful again.

He didn't know what to do. He stood up and looked around the kitchen for a place large enough to hide Taylor's body. It wasn't long before the obvious answer came to his mind.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Barry stood before the large oven. The trapdoor on it looked airtight; the glass screen on it had parcels that looked like teeth. Barry felt like he was looking at a massive monster; he was ready to feed it his sacrifice. Maybe it was strong enough to cremate her, he thought. He had no idea.

Barry opened the trapdoor and looked for a way to turn it on. His perception of time was skewed; it felt like it took him an hour to figure out how to turn it on, but he finally managed.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Barry wrapped his arms under Taylor's limp limbs. He shoved her into the furnace head first. Despite how wide it was, she was still a tight fit. She had to push her legs in to make her fit. He was hoping the oven would be enough to cremate her perhaps.

He watched as her clothes caught on fire, followed by her hair. Immediately, there was an overwhelming odor of burning hair. Barry slammed the lid shut, almost breaking her legs in the process.

He reached into his pocket and fished out another American Spirits.

He lit the cigarette as he watched her burn. He reached into his pocket and fed himself the rest of whatever was left in his pocket. He needed something to calm his nerves. He was ready to take his chance and risk another heart attack.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Barry helped himself to the rest of Taylor's stash as she baked downstairs. He took a quick shower as well. His own aroma had become pungent at that stage. Barry had smoked his way through most of the American Spirits by the time the smell from the furnace started to become a problem. Even with the lid airtight, Barry could smell it.

It wasn't a homogeneous smell. The hair was feculent, a smell that was all too familiar. She had a lot of it, and the various dirt inside her dreads made it even more prevalent. The muscles smelled like beef in a frying pan, whereas the fat smelled like pork. He could smell various other things too. Something smelled a bit like liver maybe. The thing that he was not used to was the metallic smell of the blood burning. A smell he was accustomed to from work. Overall except for the sulfurous odor of the hair, the smell was actually somewhat appetizing for Barry. He was starving.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Barry hesitantly opened up the room, and the odor immediately flowed into the kitchen. She was not getting cremated, she just cooked. He couldn't see her face. He reached in and tried to pull her corpse out.

When he grabbed hold of her ankles, the flesh just peeled off of them. Her legs were cooked more than the rest of her. Barry looked at the mound of flesh in his fists with fear. White bone from her shins was glistening with her fat. Oddly enough, the flesh in his hands looked surprisingly appetizing.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Her charred body was cracked in places as her body swelled; the pinkish flesh glistened between her ebony skin. Barry's mind fractured as he stared at the intricate flesh wounds that were open. It was perhaps a nervous compulsion, or maybe just a vile curiosity, as he brought the flesh closer to his mouth. And just licked it.

The taste was somewhere between veal and pork. A unique taste and one that was surprisingly delicious.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lucy exclaimed with disgust.

The same compulsion lurked in the back of his mind as he tossed a larger chunk inside his mouth. Then a bit more. Eventually, he had eaten a fistful of Taylor.

Breathe in, hold, release.

Barry looked at the meat he was gnawing on. A torrent of disgust overwhelmed him as he puked.

Breathe in, hold, release.

It wasn't helping.

He closed the lid back up and kept the furnace running.

He left the house.