Relentless Man Eater

Bring Your Brothers

“Oh, god. Oh, god.”

Sweat plastered her blonde hair to her face. She remembered muscular arms sweeping her away while she was going for her morning walk, and now, with her feet burned, she sat on a kitchen floor leaning against the cabinets.

“Please, god, don’t kill me,” she cried to her captor.

“I’m not God,” the creature replied, his voice a deep, raspy bellow. “But I’m flattered that you think so. That really means something to me.”

He diced up vegetables, poured them into a container, and stored them in the refrigerator besides the eyeballs and butter.

She watched as he wiped his meaty hands and took off his pink apron. No, he wasn’t God. He was far from that. He towered above the doors, his face was shredded with scars, and tattoos riddled his body. And there was certainly something ungodly about a man with piercings.

“I don’t want to die.”

With a grunt, the monster took a seat next to her on the floor. “We all have to die someday.”

Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I won’t be killed by you. Not like this.”

“What’s your name?”

She glared at him. His dead, green eyes made her stomach churn.

“A-Anya,” she replied as though she hadn’t a drop of water in days.

“Anya? That’s a nice name. I don’t think I’ve had an Anya before.”

She choked back a sob of disgust.

“Do you have any brothers, Anya?”

“Y-yes?”

He quivered and smiled. “How many?”

“T-three. Three older brothers.”

“Oh,” the monster said, his voice peaking. “Three? That must be hard for you. I had four brothers and one sister. I’m sure she got annoyed with us. But it’s better now. I ate them all.”

He sucked his teeth at her and she turned away.

“Ah, Jesus.”

“Look, why don’t you give your brothers a call?”

She narrowed her eyes. “W-what?”

“Call them,” he said, reaching for the telephone, “and tell them you’re here. Tell them to come get you.”

What was he doing? She didn’t know how to interpret his actions, but knew she wanted to leave. She hesitantly took the phone from him and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Vas?” she replied.

“Where have you been? Where are you? You said you’d be here for breakfast. Mama’s been worrying.”

“Listen, Vasska,” she hissed. “Listen. And d-don’t tell Mama or Papa. Don’t tell them, do you understand?”

“What’s happening?”

“Y-you have to get Guy and Lel, and you have to come get me, okay? I’m going to tell you the address.”

He stooped to a whisper. “I don’t understand. Are you okay?”

“Li-sten,” she said. “Get them, get in the car, and come here.”

“I’ll call the police—”

“No! No, you can’t. P-please. Please just do what I say. Please.”

“Okay,” he stammered. “Okay, okay. What’s the address? I’ll come get you, sis, don’t worry. It’s going to be alright.”