Tag Archives: urges

“I need to be put down.”

“Put me down,” he said.

I closed the door behind me.

“I’m here to ask a few questions,” I said. “My name –“

“Put me down!” he shouted.

“What do you mean?”

“You know,” Andrew said. “Like an animal. Put me down. I shouldn’t live.”

“Andrew, you’re not an animal.”

“I’m like an animal. I shouldn’t live.”

He pointed at his bandaged eye.

“You see that?”

“You injured your eye.”

“I didn’t injure my eye.” Andrew laughed. “I grated it.”

“You grated your eye?”

“That’s why I need to be put down.”

“Because you grated your eye?”

“No, because I’m insane. I need to be put down because I’m not human anymore. I want to eat other humans. Do you understand? I’m a cannibal! I just can’t control myself anymore.”

Instinctively I pushed my chair backwards on the rubber floor.

“Why is that, Andrew?”

“I don’t know! It just started like that. One day I woke up in the middle of the night and felt like it. I felt this taste on my tongue, like iron, you know, like raw meat. I went to the fridge and bit in a raw sausage, but it tasted disgusting.”

“And then you decided to eat other humans?”

Andrew shook his head.

“I didn’t decide that. I just felt this desire. The sausage tasted like a piece of moist bread; it was disgusting. And then I saw this picture of my sister on the shelf and I just felt that she looked delicious.”

“Delicious?” I asked.

“Like – delicious, tasty. She just looked like she had tender and soft meat.”

“Okay, for a moment I thought you meant –“

“What, no!” He shouted “I’m not some rapist or pedophile. She just looked like, just delicious! Like, such tender soft meat.”

“And you did something to your sister?”

“Well, I went to her room.”

“She was home?”

“Of course.”

“And you went inside?”

“I stood outside for a bit, and then I opened the door. I looked at her sleeping, how her chest was heaving under the blanket. It was really hard to stop myself from going in.”

“So you went inside her room?”

“No. I stood there for maybe five minutes; I felt my jaw aching; I so much wanted to bite in her arm or neck.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t. I closed the door and punched myself. I actually punched my own face because I was so disgusted of myself.”

Andrew clenched his fist and slowly pressed it against his chin.

“Like this,” he said. “But a real punch.”

“And you didn’t feel this ‘urge’ anymore? The one to bite your sister?”

“I still felt it,” Andrew said. “And I still feel it. But it’s not about the biting. I just really want to chew her flesh. I just feel like I should swallow such soft flesh. And it’s not just her; it’s for a lot of people.”

I felt my body tense up.

“So you want to eat different people?”

“I don’t know. I just want to eat flesh. It doesn’t even matter who it is, just nobody disgusting.”

“So there are some kinds of people you wouldn’t eat?”

“I don’t know. I guess I would, but I’m not really feeling the urge. I just feel it with young people, particularly when they are pale.”

“As a warning,” I said. “If you admit any serious crimes I might need to report them to the police.”

“What exactly?” He asked.

“Did you ever follow through on your urges? Did you ever attack another human?”

“Other – no. I mean I thought about it a lot. I’ve been feeling this thing for months and it’s just not going away; if anything it’s getting worse. And a few times I followed people for a bit, but they always got nervous and walked faster and then I got nervous and walked the other direction.”

“Those were random people?”

“Pretty much; mostly from the bus, and a few times from the mall.”

“A few times?”

“I don’t know how often. I’ve been doing this far too many times. You know, the security guards even started to follow me.”

“Okay, but you have never attacked anyone?”

“There was this one girl that I knew back from school. I met her in the mall and we talked and I walked her home. And then when we got to her house I grabbed her arm and leaned over to bite her neck; but she pushed me away. I tried again and she said ‘No!’ and then ‘I don’t think of you that way.’ And somehow that threw me off track.”

“So you were trying to bite her?”

“Yes.”

“And she thought you were trying to kiss her?”

“I think so.”

“But you didn’t hurt her?”

“No. I mean, I might have pressed her arm a bit hard, but I didn’t bite her or anything. And she just went inside.”

“Did you try to contact this girl again?”

“I texted her to apologize; she didn’t even reply.”

“And you didn’t see her again?”

“No.”

“So you never actually harmed anybody? You just feel the urge to taste human flesh?”

“I don’t just want to taste it. I want to eat more.”

“More than what?”

“I mean, I tried a piece of myself.”

“You ate a piece of your own flesh?”

“Two times; once from my arm and once from my ass. I would have done it more often, but it hurts like hell.”

Andrew rolled the sleeve on his left arm back. There was a bandage around his biceps.

“I can take it the bandage off, if you want to see.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I believe you.”

“It looks really good. You can see the color and everything.”

“Really, it’s okay.”

“Fine,” Andrew said.

He unrolled his sleeve again; then pulled it back once more to expose his armpit. Andrew pointed at small blue and red marks in his armpit.

“Oh, and here I drew blood a few times. But blood doesn’t really taste that good.”

I nodded.

Andrew paused, looked at me, and finally unrolled his sleeve again.

“You see now,” he said. “Why I need to be put down?”

“I think we have some excellent therapists –“

“No!”

Andrew slammed his fist on the table.

“I can’t use a goddamn therapist! I’m not human! I will hurt people!”

“Andrew, it seems to me that you have it quite well under control. With the right therapy you could be normal again.”

“I don’t want to hurt my sister. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Andrew, you can control this.”

“Do you know how many times I already stood in her doorway while she was sleeping?”

“Andrew –“

“Do you?”

“I don’t.”

“I can’t even count it anymore. The way she smells, it just draws me to her room. And during the day, when she walks past me, or just when she sits on the couch – I just can’t control myself anymore.”

“You told me that you didn’t touch her, so it seems you have a lot of control over your condition.”

“I don’t know,” Andrew said. “How long I can control it.”

“That’s why I would suggest therapy.”

“You know, I’ve been smelling her. I try to get close to her, just to smell her. And then, whenever I’m close, I can feel my jaw itching and this tension; I just know that I want to bite in this soft flesh of hers.”

“Andrew, with the right treatment –“

“Do you even know why I’m here?”

“The police told us you hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t want to hurt myself. I wanted to hurt my sister.”

“But you hurt yourself?”

“I did. I stepped into her room and I saw her lying there. And her meat looked so damn delicious and I stepped closer, but then I saw this photo of us on her shelf.”

“And the photo stopped you?”

“She looked so happy on that photo. I just didn’t want to hear her scream.”

“And so you went back to your room?”

“I just ran out and sat in the corridor. I had the cheese grater in one hand and the knife in the other. I didn’t even think about it; I just placed the grater on my eye and pulled it downwards. Twice.”

“You grated your eye?”

“And then I ate the pieces.”


This is my story, originally I published it on Reddit.

Free Hair Loss Therapy

It was just two weeks after Midori’s birth. Natasha and I were happy and exhausted at the same time – Natasha certainly more of each, while for me some element of worry began to creep in. Some worry whether we would be able to protect our little girl, whether we would be able to offer her a good life.

Natasha and Midori were back from the hospital for a bit more than a week when the flyer came.

“Hair loss? – Proven treatment, FREE.”

The flyer had a few before and after pictures and honestly, the results were impressive. I thought they were fake, but Natasha still said I should check it out.

I never really minded my hair loss. Sure, it came far too early; it started in my teens and half-way through my twenties a large part of my head was already smooth enough to reflect sunlight. Still, for me it was a sign of masculinity; I read somewhere that hair loss correlated with a high testosterone level.

But Natasha would have preferred to see more hair on my head. When we still had time to watch TV – before Midori was born – my hand was usually on her pregnant belly, but Natasha’s hand far too often went to my bald spots. I think Natasha didn’t like that people thought we were years apart; in reality it was only a few months, she was 25 and I was 24 when Midori was born.

Still, with my hair loss and her youthful looks and tiny frame it wasn’t surprising that the day I met Natasha’s parents her mother took her aside and told her, point-blank that I was too old for her. That day Natasha laughed, but I think some part of that memory stayed in her mind.

In the end it doesn’t matter. I lost Natasha forever. As a young father that’s something I shouldn’t say – but losing Natasha was even harder on me than losing Midori.

The day the hair loss flyer arrived I didn’t know about any of it. I threw it in the trash; Natasha pulled it back out and placed it on my desk and a glass paperweight on top.

It sat there for a week, until it somehow moved to the sofa table. I finally took the hint and gave the agency a call.

They told me it was for a study. We talked about my family situation and my concerns that I didn’t want any chemicals in my body that could harm Midori or Natasha or me. The lady on the phone said that it would all be okay, that it was all safe and that, if I was just willing to give them some genetic material for their study, everything would be fine and the treatment would be free for me. And all of it would take less than two hours of my time.

Natasha was excited; I wasn’t. I didn’t like the idea of having my DNA in some shady database of a research team that finds their candidates through flyers. Natasha said it was likely just a corporate study; one of those studies that later provide the “100% proven” label on the product bottles.

We booked a slot for Saturday and went over. I told Natasha to stay at home, but she was excited for the opportunity to watch the study and on the phone the researchers had told me that Natasha and Midori were “more than welcome.” They even said that the two could participate; I was sure I wouldn’t let that happen.

We pulled up in front of the old hospital building. The large parking lot was nearly empty and most of the building was dark – for a Saturday in a private research center that wasn’t exactly unexpected. But the condition of the house surprised us – walls looked shabby, some windows were broken, others were barricaded with pieces of wood.

Following the instructions we stepped to the smaller side entrance and a young lady with a clipboard welcomed us. I recognized the lady’s voice from the phone. For a moment I admired her beauty; then I caught myself and pulled my eyes towards her face. I cursed at myself. I thought those urges would die with the long-distance relationship and as a father. Instead, if anything, they seemed to have grown. I reminded myself of the two loves in my life – my wife and daughter. In that moment I felt I should turn to stone. Natasha didn’t notice anything. Midori was sleeping happily in her stroller.

The lady, she introduced herself as Molly, led us through a long, bare and barely lit corridor.

“Sorry,” Molly said. “We had some power cuts. But that really is nothing to worry about.”

“So it will all work?” Natasha asked.

“Definitely.” Molly said. “You all seem like exactly the people we were looking for.”

Natasha was excited; Midori slept; I felt somewhat worried and somewhat regretful. Worried for my manliness; regretful that I had agreed to the procedure.

Molly led us into a small office room. Two older men in white coats sat at a somewhat beaten table. Shelves in the back seemed to be stuffed with documents, but the writing was only numbers.

“So, what’s the procedure?” Molly asked.

That moment I noticed that we really didn’t know much. Molly had told us it was all safe and painless for me, but not much more. “I don’t understand the procedure myself.” Molly said on the phone. “But it will be explained to you and you can still refuse it when you come.”

The two men didn’t look like they were interested in telling us anything.

“Stemcells.” One of them finally snipped.

The second man turned to Molly.

“You have the placenta?” He asked.

Molly glanced first at me, then at Natasha and Midori.

“It’s not one of those cases.” Molly said quietly.

“Oh.” Said the man. “I thought we aren’t doing that anymore?”

“Doing what?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Said Molly. “It seems the doctor just didn’t read the case sheet properly.”

The building made me uneasy. The room made me feel on edge. But their secretive behavior made me feel downright alarmed.

“I think we’ll be going.” I said. “We can come back when your power is back.”

“Don’t worry about the power.” Said Molly.

“What about it?” Asked one of the men.

“You know,” Molly said. “The power cut.”

“Oh, right.” said the man.

“Right.” Said Molly.

“I really think we need to go.” I said.

“Wait.” Natasha grabbed my arm. “We haven’t heard anything yet. So what’s the procedure?”

“We take stem cells,” said one of the men. “Usually from placentas; but there are some more complicated ways we can use. And we run a metal comb over your skin –“

“What?” I said.

“Don’t worry,” Chimed the second man in. “It really is just a small tickle.”

“It opens the skin.” Said the first man. “And then we can spray stem cells on top.”

He glanced at Midori; Midori was still asleep.

“Like in the baby the stem cells can build any cell in your body. If we spray the right dosage with the right nutritional solution on your scalp the cells will become new hair follicles and they grow new hair.”

“And it doesn’t hurt?” I said.

“It won’t hurt you,” said the man. “We can promise that.”

I had more questions, but I saw Natasha’s pleading eyes.

“Okay.” I said. “I don’t really know anything about these things. But you said it only takes two hours, so why don’t we just get started with the tests or whatever you need to do?”

Natasha smiled and nodded strongly. Midori woke up.

I wanted to stay with Natasha and help her calm Midori down.

“I’m fine.” She said. “You go and get ready.”

I kissed her and Midori goodbye.

Molly and one of the men led me to another room and made me fill out a form and sign a contract. I gave them permission to take stem cells and spray them on my head as well as monitor my reaction.

They made me change clothes and lie on a stretcher.

“We’ll put you to sleep.” Molly said. “So that you don’t feel any pain.”

“I thought there wouldn’t be any pain?” I said.

“Not much.” She said. “But the comb hurts a bit. We’ll just put you out and you will wake up again in a minute or two.”

“No danger?” I asked.

Two nurses stepped into the room.

“No danger.” Molly said.

The man in the white coat nodded.

“Try the size.” He said and pushed a breathing mask on my face.

I remember thinking It fits. I remember that I was wondering what the mask was for.

Then there was just black.

The main thing I remember is the thirst. I think the thirst was what woke me up.

I tried to move my arms, but heavy, leather straps held me onto the stretcher. It was dark. I didn’t recognize the room. And I felt dizzy and incredibly thirsty.

“Help!” I called.

Nothing.

“Hello? Help! I’m in here!” I screamed.

I felt an acidic, sickening smell in my throat and nose.

I kept screaming, but there was no response. I tried to break the straps, but they were too tight.

I looked around the room, in all directions. There was an old fridge or freezer; next to it a table with a bundle of clothes on it.

Midori’s clothes.

“Natasha?” I screamed.

I tried to roll to the side, to rock the stretcher so that maybe something would get lose.

“Natasha?” I screamed even louder; my throat hurt.

I rocked too violently; the stretcher slid to the side; I couldn’t stop the fall.

My whole back exploded in pain when the stretcher hit the floor.

Then I saw her body. Her skin was a gray-yellow color. Her eyes were sunk inwards. There was dried blood all around Natasha’s head.

“Natasha.” I whispered.

I fought against the stretcher and the straps; I even managed to bend the stretcher partly. The tears were streaming over my face; my eyes didn’t move away from Natasha.

I was fighting against the straps and stretcher. I was fighting because I wanted to save her. I didn’t even want to save myself, just her – and Midori.

I called for Midori a few times; but there were no cries. That was the only thing she had learned how to do – to cry. And I couldn’t even hear that.

I was on the floor, next to Natasha’s body, for hours. The image of every single curve of her face and every strand of her hair burned itself in my mind.

When I lie down, at night, I still see Natasha’s face. I still see it that way, in the strange gray-yellowish color.

I was exhausted. I felt like I needed to rest, to sleep a long, deep sleep. My eyes were still on Natasha, but they slowly began to close.

Just in that moment I heard the screeching sound. I called out again:

“Help!”

“Help!”

“Anybody, help!”

There was no response.

Then another screeching sound, louder than before.

“Help!” I screamed.

Voices.

“Help!”

My voice cracked; my throat ached.

“Around here.” Said a male voice from the corridor.

“Help.” I whispered.

Somebody pushed against the heavy metal door.

Another screeching sound; louder than before.

“Oh god.” Said a male voice.

“That’s them.” Said another voice.

“Help.” I whispered.

I remember them walking closer, the blue uniform; then everything was black again.

This time I woke up from a steady beep. I felt the soft blankets and the drip in my arm.

The nurse said “Welcome back to life.” She smiled when she said “We thought you wouldn’t make it.”

The police came only a few minutes later.

They introduced themselves, sat down, asked me to tell them all I knew.

My memory felt hazy.

“Where is Natasha?” I asked. “I saw her on the floor –“

“I’m really sorry.” Said the lady in blue.

It felt like she meant it.

Tears came back in my eyes.

“And my daughter?” My voice was barely audible.

The officer just averted her eyes.

“Sorry.” She finally whispered.

I wanted time alone; they didn’t let me. They said that it was urgent; that they had traces but needed more information.

I told them all I knew.

I asked them again and again what happened to Natasha and what happened to Midori. They sat Natasha had been killed with a dull object to her head. They didn’t want to say anything about Midori.

Only two days later they finally told me about Midori’s death. They said they wanted to make sure I would be able to take it.

They said she was likely stabbed; then cut open. Her blood was drained; her spine was removed.

“The spine and blood,” said one of the officers. “Contain a lot of stem cells.”

I cried.

When the officers left I cried some more.

Another two days later I was discharged; sent to a home that’s not a home anymore.

I had felt the softness earlier; I had already felt it in the hospital and I had already tried to see it in the mirror.

But when I got home I rushed past all the things that belonged to Natasha and Midori and straight to the bathroom.

For the first time I had a mirror with good light. I saw it; no doubt. There was new hair growing on my head.


This is my story, originally I published it on Reddit.