cannibal | wonhui

3

I pressed record on my phone before sliding it into my pocket and entering his room. I greeted Mr. Wen with a smile and a bow. The latter, he returned and gestured me to sit down on the bed again.

"How have you been, Mr. Wen?"

"I'd have been better if it stayed sunny yesterday. That rain came out of nowhere."

"Ah yes, speaking of that, forgive me. I seem to have a bit of a sniffle from walking back to my hotel in it."

"I know. I watched you leave through the window. What brand is that bag of yours? The straps look like they're ready to snap."

I nod, not letting it bother me that he watched me, yet so desperately wanted his own privacy. He was mentally unstable and dangerous. That's just how he was.

"I also know you're recording me. I don't mind, though, keep it running."

I froze, "I'm sorry?"

"You're recording my voice. It's procedure for you journalists, isn't it? How else are you to track your information? Just please tell me it's not with your cellphone."

"It is." He scoffs.

"My voice sounds so nasal on their microphones. I believe I've got an old casett player somewhere, let me loan it to you."

He immediately started rummaging through his drawers and sighed when he couldn't find it, "They're always going through my things. It may be in my wardrobe, but I can't get up, obviously. Wonwoo, would you be so kind?"

"Mr. Wen, your voice won't be in my writing. I'll be the only one hearing it, so it's fine."

He clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair, almost in a childish pout, "Fine."

I smiled and pulled my cellphone out of my pocket, setting it on the desk, "I hope you don't mind it being there. When it's in my pocket like that, sometimes the audio gets muffled."

"Not at all."

I sigh happily, now not having to walk on so many eggshells, "So, let's begin, Mr. Wen. Where do you think this all began?"

"Such a layman's question, Wonwoo," he chuckles, crossing his legs, "But, to answer it: before I was even born,"

I nod, remembering Sagawa's way of explaining himself. To him, he was an alien from a tribe of cannibals who was left on Earth as a baby. The artists were always the best at explaining their urges. While Dahmer, Gein, and Manson were all masterminds and committed grusome crimes, they could never describe their work as well as Sagawa and Gacy could, in my opinion.

"I was supposed to be a twin. My mother told me that she had to leave the hospital early after an ultrasound, but returned the next day. When they looked around the day before, she only had time to see my brother, Zhangwei. He was so much bigger than me. She already had his name determined, when she found out she was pregnant. When she was told she was having twins, she named me Junhui. The next day, though, my brother wasn't in there with me. They knew it was me, and not Zhangwei, because I had extra foreskin, which was removed after I was born obviously."

"So where did your brother go?"

He shrugged, smirking to himself, "The doctors assumed I had 'absorbed him' into myself. That day, I was the size of a normal baby. I wasn't the runt anymore, but Zhangwei was gone," He paused, considering his next statement, "I think, given the circumstances, my brother was my first. We were obviously meant to be fraternal; if he had lived, I most likely would have been handicapped in some way, or died soon after I was born. 'Eating' him saved my life."

"But didn't you wish he had lived? As a child, that must have been incredibly lonely, to have known you were supposed to have a brother."

"Not at all," he says flatly, "I'm glad he's gone. I'm twice as handsome as I was supposed to be, twice as strong. I'm talented. I'm intelligent. Zhangwei was like a living placenta for me."

I nod, attempting to come up with a follow-up question. He stared at me so intently, yet so casually, as if we were old friends catching up. I swallow the lump beginning to form in my throat and ask, "How was your childhood, then? Did your mother raise you for both you and Zhangwei?"

He laughs loudly, "Not at all! My mother loved Zhangwei so much, she begged the doctor to abort me then and there. She said, 'I don't want an murderous runt.' But she treated me fairly, once I grew. She signed me up for dance lessons, music classes, martial arts. She molded me into what she was going to mold Zhangwei into. If I didn't like a class, or wanted to give up, or decided I wanted to do something else, she would tell me to not waste her time. I learned very quickly to be obedient. I wanted to make my mother love me as much as possible. I wanted to be Zhangwei,"

He nodded to himself repeatedly, confirming his words to himself, it seemed. I didn't know how much to believe or scrap. He had never done an interview, never made statements to the police. He confirmed he had killed his victims, but never explained why. His doctor had told me, before I came into his room the day before, that he would have multiple fits of rage, at the most random times, and attack anyone who came near. Doctor Choi advised to never trust a single act of kindness or friendly gesture, but Mr. Wen didn't appear to be the monster every hospital official and expert warned me about.

"I wanted to be as perfect as my mother made him out to be, I wanted to make her proud..."

"Yes, Mr. Wen?"

"-but I wanted to be better. They were my method of bettering myself."