The sudden sound of Serj Tankian screaming "Wake up!" in my ear nearly knocks me out of bed. I thought it was a clever tone to set as my daily morning alarm, but wasn't quite prepared for the real shock of it, especially as I had fallen asleep with my phone on my pillow after a long night of bingeing YouTube videos. Creepypasta narrations, of course, I am a man of culture after all.
As the ringing in my ears fades away, I get up and stretch, feeling the pops of my spine realigning. I pick up my phone and interrupt Serj in the middle of him saying "angels deserve to die" as I turn the alarm off. One big yawn and several minutes of hesitation later, I walk into the bathroom and relieve myself as I still try to fully wake up.
As I wash my hands I stare at my reflection. Something seems... off. There is something not quite right.
I don't really know what is wrong, but there is something. I examine my face closer... nothing out of the ordinary. My eyes are just as dark, depressing, and devoid of life as they always are.
I decide that it must be nothing... I'm probably just tired. I shower, brush my teeth, swish & spit some mouthwash, and go back to the bedroom to get dressed.
I open my closet and, again, something seems off. "What is it?" I think to myself, but still, I just can't put my finger on it. I take a good hard look at my clothes... black t-shirts, hoodies, and Tripp pants... nothing out of the ordinary.
I grab some black & red Tripps, my favorite Marilyn Manson tee, and my lucky black zip-up hoody. I check myself out in the mirror, tie back my dreads in a ponytail, and grab my phone, wallet, & keys. "Today's gotta be better," I say to myself as I walk out of the door.
Walking down the hallway of my apartment building, I'm still thinking about what could be wrong. Everything seemed normal to me... but there was something that was eating away at me. I hop on my bike and head off to class.
The campus is about 20 minutes away and my first class doesn't start for another hour, so I have time to grab some BK for breakfast. I pull in and chain up my bike and as I look at the building, once more I feel like something is wrong. I go in to order a coffee and hashbrowns and realize everyone is looking at me.
They're not just looking at me... they're staring at me. I look around to see families, old people, other college kids... and they're all just starting. I decide to just ignore them as I'm used to people giving me weird looks what with the clothes, tattoos, and general lifestyle choice.
I walk up to the counter and the cashier just stands there. No "good morning" or "welcome to Burger King, may I take your order" or anything. "Uh, can I get a small black coffee and some hashbrowns, please?" I say, a bit more than uncomfortable.
There's a long, deafening, silence. She just stands there and stares, a terrified expression beginning to form on her face. Tears are forming and she starts to hyperventilate.
I am at a complete loss as to what is happening or what I should do. I look all around and everyone else has the exact same look of fear on their faces as well. The small children start crying and soon everyone starts screaming.
They all just stand there, screaming and crying. I decide to get out of there, unchain my bike as fast as I can, and take off to the college. "What... the fuck... was that?" I say to myself.
When I get to the campus, I realize that I still have some time before class starts, and I am starving. I decided to go to the hall's cafeteria to grab some less than favorable breakfast from there instead. When I walk in, just like BK, everyone there stops what they're doing and stares at me.
There is definitely something wrong with me. I feel all around my face and I do notice something different. I face feels... thinner than usual.
I look at my hands and realize, they look like skeleton hands with a think layer of skin covering them. I run out of the cafeteria to the nearest bathroom. I rush over to a sink and look in the mirror... and now I am the one frozen in fear.
My reflection is me... but my usually coffee-colored skin is now gray and thin, so much so that you can make out the structure of my skull. My previously dark and baggy eyes now look like deep, black sockets where my eyes pop out from the black and white contrast.
I scream so hard that I start to choke and cough. Soon, blood and bile come shooting from my mouth. My vision starts to darken and I lose my balance.
I lay on the floor, feeling incredibly weak as I slowly lose consciousness. I can hear the muffled sounds of people finding me and calling for help. Throughout the entire experience, I can't help but think about how hungry I feel.
I wake up in a hospital bed. My arms are attached to IV tubes, a feeding tube is attached to my stomach, and I see my mom passed out in a chair next to my bed. I notice the tv is on (the local news) and realize that it's an entire week later.
I try my hardest to remember and understand exactly what happened to me. I think back to that morning. At the time, everything seemed normal, but now that I think about it, I was... thinner.
The change wasn't really that noticeable at the time, but as I think really hard I start to remember the small details of more sunken in cheeks, slightly darker eyes, and the fact that my clothes did in fact feel the tiniest bit bigger on me than usual.
As the day went on, however, it was obvious that I was changing faster and faster as the morning went on. Apparently I looked like a literal zombie when I showed up at BK and by the time I got to the campus, I was basically a skeleton. As I meet with the doctors for the first time, they explain to me that my case was unlike anything they'd ever seen before.
Apparently, I have some kind of virus, that no one had ever heard of before. It's kind of like a monster of a tapeworm out of a sci-fi movie, in terms that my weight drops at an unnatural speed. As the morning went on, my metabolism overclocked more than they'd ever seen in a person, describing it as almost like one of those dead-body time-lapse videos that show the progression of decomposition of a corpse.
I nearly died from starvation, and they have no idea how to stop it. I am indefinitely attached to the feeding tube in order to keep me technically fed enough to not die, but I'm also allowed to eat actual food as well (with a specific and strict diet of course).
Days go by, and even with the feeding tube and food that I actually eat... I can feel myself becoming hungrier and hungrier. It gets to the point where it hurts to go a couple of hours without eating. The doctors increase the intake of my feeding tube and reluctantly increase my food allowance, but still, it's like I'm taking in nothing at all.
Soon, my personality and mood become affected, and I lash out at everyone around me, including my mother. I feel so shitty about it, but it's like I have no control over my emotions anymore. One day, I break mentally.
As weak as I feel, I still thrash around like a wild beast. The nurses try to restrain me but I fight them. My mother reaches over, trying to soothe me by rubbing my face, and then I do the unthinkable... I bite her.
I sink my teeth into her hand so hard that some of them crack and break. She screams in pain and rips her hand from my mouth, teeth embedded into her flesh and blood pouring from her wounds & my mouth. I lose complete control as I lick up and swallow the blood from my mouth... and it tastes so good.
I turn my head and sink my teeth into the arm of one of the nurses. The remaining teeth in my mouth dig into her flesh and I tear a chunk out. I swallow it like a piece of ham and close my eyes as the deliciousness seems to slightly satiate my hunger.
For the first time in a while, I don't feel the horrible, unsatisfiable hunger. As I lay there, finally docile, I am restrained and feel the sting of a needle. I feel myself lose consciousness again, feeling the bliss of the absence of hunger pains.
I wake up again, fully restrained in a different location. I can only move my head as my arms and legs are strapped down to prevent me from grabbing ahold of any more delicious nurses. As I lay there, I think about that unexpectedly wonderful taste.
I begin to drool at the thought of tearing into that nurse's arm, swallowing her flesh and blood. Unfortunately, it only takes about a day for my hunger to return. It becomes clear that a stomach pump and some hospital food isn't going to be enough for me... I need more.
As I try to block the hunger pains, I long to sink my teeth into some more flesh. One day, I'm informed that my mother and the nurse that I bit are both dead. They died a couple of days after the incident... not from infection or blood loss... but from hunger.
So, I guess technically they did die from the infection of whatever virus this is that I have (which is apparently transmitted through bodily fluids). I grieve for about an hour before the thought of eating takes over again. It wouldn't be too long before I am relocated to a new facility where I am subjected to repeated tests and experiments.
The whole thing is very hush-hush of course. Society tends to look down on human rights violations, even for cannibalistic freaks like me. One day, I'm injected with a sleeping drug and when I wake up, I'm no longer hooked up to the feeding tube... in fact, I'm no longer in a hospital room.
I look all around and realize I'm in a cold, dark, room. My hair is completely gone, my clothes are a gray prison-looking jumpsuit, and my body is wrapped in chains that are attached to the walls. "What the fuck is this?" I yell out.
I feel so weak and the hunger hurts so bad. I sit there, thinking only of the hunger. I don't care that I lost my mother, my freedom, or who I am... I just want something... or should I say someone to eat.
To my surprise and delight, I am granted my wish. The sound of an alarm goes off and the door opens. Inside stumbles a terrified looking man in an orange jumpsuit, his arms bound behind his back. I don't hesitate to go after him as I pounce and immediately take a bite out of his nose.
He screams in pain as I chew and swallow it like a won-ton. It tastes and feels so good that I want more. I bite into his face more and more and devour chunk after chunk of flesh and blood.
His screams eventually go silent but I'm not even close to being finished yet. I remove his jumpsuit and begin tearing into his body. I gorge myself on his flesh and organs until, finally, I am full.
I drop to the floor onto my back and start laughing with joy and bliss. I've never felt so good before. I've never felt so strong before.
Nobody comes to claim the body for days. It takes about 24 hours for the hunger to return, at which point I eat some more of my new roommate and personal feeding trough. When there is nothing left but bloody clothes and bones, somebody finally shows up to collect.
Unfortunately, I'm not awake to see it happen as gas is released into my room, causing me to pass out long enough for them to not only clean up the remains but apparently clean me up as well. This becomes my new life.
I am regularly given a new victim (prisoners I assume) and I am able to take my time with them until there's nothing left, at which point I am gassed, someone collects the body and clean me up. Unfortunately for me, the tradeoff for being relieved of the hunger is that my senses return and I think about everything from a stable mind.
I think about my mother... and what I did to her. I think about my life... and how it will never be the same. I think about the future... and the uncertainty of it.
While I do regret what I did to my mother... I'm not disgusted by it. You would think that having a sane mind would mean that I would be disgusted at the thought of eating human flesh... but no... I'm not.
I enjoy the taste. I enjoy the feeling of the meat between my teeth and the feeling of it sliding down my throat. Even without the hunger, I think about the joy I get from it... and I don't feel any shame for it.
I have come to terms with the fact that I am a monster. I don't know what virus this is that I have. Even with all of the tests and experiments, nobody can figure out what it is, where it came from, or how to cure it.
I don't know where I am. I don't know who the people are that have me. I do know one thing, however... the imprisonment and limit on my food simply will not work for me.
Fortunately for me, I realized something that they didn't. I'm becoming resistant to the gas. It takes a little bit longer for me to pass out.
One day, I become fully resistant. I use this to my advantage and pretend... and wait. I hear the door open... the sounds of the body being moved... the sound of someone approaching me.
I am placed on a gurney, strapped down, and wheeled to another location. I'm unstrapped and de-clothed. I feel the warm water and the hands cleaning my body.
I realize that my sense of hearing and smell is much better than I remember it being. I can tell that a guard is watching over whoever is washing me. I am also fully in control of my body, perfectly pretending to be unconscious and limp.
I have a theory. If I'm wrong, I'm dead. However, with all the changes to my physiology, there's one thing I'm certain of... I am stronger... I am faster.
As I'm being cleaned, I wake up, break free from my restraints, and quickly position myself behind the poor sucker that just washed my ass. I take a chunk out of his neck and use him as a human shield as I rush the guard.
The guard is panicking and doesn't have enough time to react as I throw the dying man over to him, knocking him down. Faster than I've ever moved, I run over and tear the protective head gear from the guard and being biting at his face.
The alarm is going off and more guards are coming. I grab the fallen weapon and take cover. I feel so strong and powerful.
Suddenly, a bullet manages to hit me. It hurts... but not for long. I dig it out with my fingers and realize, to my absolute shock, that I am slowly but surely healing.
I have yet another theory. I toss the gun away and yell out "I surrender!" I step out, my hands in the air as I'm rushed by some very pissed off guards.
What they weren't expecting, however, was me pouncing on the closest one to me. I again tear off his headgear and bite into him. I hear the sounds of gunshots and can feel every bullet enter my body.
The pain is temporary as I stand to my feet, still taking bullets. I smile as the blood stains my teeth and body. They keep shooting, but I begin healing just as fast.
I continue to approach and they keep firing. It doesn't take long for me to not feel it at all anymore. Nothing can be more painful than the hunger.
I make short work of the remaining guards. I chase down the ones that run for it, which honestly makes the experience even better. Eventually, there's no one left.
It takes a while, but I eventually find a way out of the facility. I don't bother releasing the other inmates, because I understand that we are all here for a reason. The world already has to deal with me, and potentially others like me... I think that's enough.
As the years come and go, I accept the fact that life will never be the same. As long as I stay fed, I won't lose control... and nobody can stop me. If I go too long without hunting... the hunger and the pain returns. When the hunger is there is when I am vulnerable.
I've done some tests myself. I've allowed myself to go hungry and hurt myself to see what happens. It's become clear that flesh and blood are my elixir of life.
I need to feed to stay strong and resilient. I need to feed to keep a logical mind. Most importantly... I need to feed to live.
In horror movies, the werewolf or vampire protagonist wants to find a cure because they hate what they've become. They can't accept that this is who they are. I'm not the protagonist though... I'm the villain.
I am embracing it. I am an apex predator, and there is not anyone that can stop me. The world is my all-you-can-eat buffet.
I'm not stupid though... I'm discreet. I don't make a scene and I take people that won't be missed. When I'm done I dispose of what remains. I don't overindulge and I don't lose control.
I didn't ask for this... I didn't want this... but I'm not going to stop.
Written by NerdxCorexCreep