You Are What You Eat (Book One)

Chapter 22

Marshall

It's been nearly two months since I've hunted and I need it. I feel the craving for blood, for flesh and meat. To feel bones break and skin rip. My mother's been over much more often for the holidays along with Jake and Jane and we won't even touch human meat if there's people over. Can't even think about it.

But I've been thinking about it at every meal. It's early December now and family is over much more often. All from my mother's side. Margret's family wants nothing thing to do with her or us. They were bastards when I knew them and they're bastards now. It was Saturday morning. My mother would once again be visiting for the weekend. This time to help put up decorations and get the tree picked out and lit up.

I walked out to get the mail. The wind was chilly but no sign of snow. I had a hot cup of tea in hand as I went out to the mailbox.

I opened the latch. Then I heard a friendly voice behind me. "Morning Marshall." I turned, seeing Father George. "Oh hello father. You're out early." He was old, in his 80s at least but very active and happy. "Wanted to get in a good walk before mass. Will you and your family be joining us?" "Sorry. It's only Sunday's. Gotta keep Saturday open in case work calls." He smiled. "Well we'll see you tomorrow then. Good day!" He walked off.

I watched him a moment longer before sipping my tea and reaching in, grabbing various papers and letters. I walked with them inside, setting them on the table while Margret made breakfast and the kids watched cartoons. Margret came over, kissing my cheek. "Anything good?" I started looking through the mail. "Not sure yet." She went back to cracking eggs and scrambling them.

There was one without a return address and computerized lettering label. I looked it over, before opening slowly, unsure of what was in there.

Inside was a folded paper.

Inside that folded paper was pictures.

Pictures of Morgan bruised, naked, being forced into sex, tied up. They were graphic and horrifying and only got worse. I quickly hid them, putting them back into the envelope and stuffing said envelop into my pajama pocket. I don't want to ruin the light mood. I'll tell Margret later then go to the police. This was getting out of hand and now it was to the point he was getting sloppy and arrogant.

These were pictures from his cell. They had to be. Or he had to have proof somewhere. I didn't look too closely at the pictures to see if his face was in them. Couldn't look too closely.

I was startled out of my thoughts by Margret calling the kids to the table for breakfast. I had to calm down and fast. I took a few deep breaths and focused on the family. Their shining light and joy a beacon in my darkness...

Once breakfast was done and Mason and Morgan were doing the dishes while Mikey was taking his nap. I brought Margret to the bed room. She looked at me concerned as she locked the door. Her red dress swishing with her movements. "What's going on?" I let out a breath, taking the now slightly crumbled envelope from my pocket. "Brent sent us this." She took it hesitantly, opening it up and taking the pictures out and nearly gasping. Her hand going to her mouth in shock. She spoke, her words muffled, her eyes watering. "Oh my god. Oh my god, it's sick." "I know." I took them from her. She went and sat down on the bed.

Anybody would think she was heartbroken and guilt ridden about this. And she was. But I could tell that wasn't what she was feeling right now as tears started streaming down her face.

It was anger.

She wanted vengeance just as badly as me. Wanted him to feel what Morgan felt when he hurt her and humiliated her. Margret's small hands were fisted so tightly into the blankets her knuckles were white. She took a shaky breath. "What are we going to do? He's not going to stop." I moved closer to her. Speaking quietly in case one of the kids walked by. "I want to kill him. I want him on my table, bleeding. But he's too high profile." She shook her head, sniffling. "Too high profile? Even high profile people go missing sometimes." "I know but I'm trying to save that as a last resort. He'll be tricky. We can go to the police. We have evidence. These pictures have to come from somewhere from him."

She stood quickly. Glaring at me. "The police won't do shit. They'll take the photos, see they're on his phone, charge him with assault and harassment and be on his way. He won't be jailed." "But he's clearly raping her and hurting her in them." "Is he? Look again."

I looked at the photos and she was right. Morgan was the only face shown. And what the pictures had was multiple males in them that showed no faces and all had similar body build. His face was nowhere in any of them. I threw the pictures to the ground. "Fucking shit!" "Marshall. Calm down, the kids could hear you."

I took in a shaky breath. "I haven't hunted in two months." She walked closer, frowning. "I know baby. But the holidays are so busy with our family. Just take it a day at a time. Take this time to plan your hunt of Brent Mitchel. As you said, he's high profile. He'll need planning." She started kissing my neck, wrapping her arms around me. "You're smart. Figure it out."

I started to calm but the ember of hatred I felt for Brent was still burning hot as ever. I wrapped my arms around her, savoring the feel of her body against mine, the soft smell of her hair. It soothed me in a way nothing else can.

My mom arrived early afternoon with all her clothes in one poor tote bag. While me and my mom worked on putting the outdoor decorations up I was thinking and planning.

I wouldn't be able to put my plan into action after the weekend. My mom startled me out of my thoughts. "Marshall!" I jumped, looking at my mom who was handing me the end of the strand of Christmas lights. She gave me a look. "Get out of that head of yours and help hang this. I can't reach that far." "Right. Sorry. Guess I got lost in thought." She smiled as I took the one end. "What you thinking about?"

Kidnapping and torturing my daughter's abusive ex-boyfriend.

I smiled to her. "Christmas gifts. There's so many to buy. So little time" " Do you know what you're getting them? "I have some ideas." I said as I started to wrap the lights around a banister.

We continued to make small talk while in the back of my mind I kept thinking.

What if he's reacting to me because I'm giving him a reaction? What if I don't do anything at all? Would he stop? What's the risk of he doesn't stop? What will he do next?

By the time dinner was set (with Jake joining us) I was on edge. I wanted to know what he would do if I didn't react and I was craving human meat badly.

It's been a month since I've eaten it. Two since I've hunted. It was spaghetti tonight, made by my mother. And it was delicious but it wasn't what I was craving. I think Margret knew this, putting her hand over mine to calm me.

And it helped. A little bit.

But it was only a temporary relief.

I couldn't sleep. I was craving and hungry and I needed it. It was 2:30AM. I snuck out of our bedroom and down to the sub-basement where I quickly grabbed a fillet of human from the freezer and took it upstairs to the kitchen.

It didn't take long to thaw under the hot water. I started cooking it, adding spices here and there. "Marshall? What are you doing up so late?" I looked, seeing Margret. She was always a light sleeper. That was a blessing and a curse for her. I swallowed, suddenly feeling shame and guilt. "I'm sorry. I just needed it..." She walked over, frowning, seeing the meat cooking in the skillet.

She frowned, speaking in a hushed whisper. "Marshall, your moms here. What if she were to catch this?" I looked away. Self-loathing bubbling its way up and around my body. "I'm sorry. I just needed it so bad. It's been so long." She walked closer, turning the stove off and holding my hands. "I know. And I'll let you get away with this for now but you can't be doing this when we have guests over."

I felt like an addict. I had a hard time getting past the disappointed look that came across her face while she brought me tea while I ate. I felt like a failure to my family but the taste of human on my tongue overshadowed the guilt.