There was a gentle sound as the tear drop splashed against the wood. Whilst she laid there upon the floor, she could see her foot gently tapping, the sole of her red stained shoe against the exposed floorboards with an unnerving thump, thump, thump. She could feel the impact resonating through the wood as her left ear was pressed to the floor. A small stone caused slight discomfort against her lobe, but she could not move her head. She had nothing left now, only the hunger that always plagued her. Her last hope, her last grasp to life was gone, a final act by the one she loved told it all to her. As she let her last grip on humanity fall, she could feel the urge to feast and gorge herself fill her soul, she want to tear, rip, gouge and swallow it all. The drumming of her foot becoming more and more intense as the hunger filled her senses until she could not hold back anymore. Her mouth opened wide baring her teeth.
…
She had watched her go past her home for many months now, never able to approach her, never able to ask her out for a drink. She gazed across the road to where her love worked in the small cake shop. Faint wafts of baking would travel on the gentle breeze in the summer when the door was left open. When the light was right, she could see in through the window at the front of the little shop. She would watch her serve customers, smile and laugh. Once she had watched her cry after a visit from a police officer. She had not come to work for many days after, and when she did finally return, her step was slower and her smile gone. The cake lady would often stare out of the window and across the road, always with a sad expression of mourning, a sense of loss. It was during these times her feelings for this once happy cake lady intensified. She wanted to reach out to her, hold her, kiss her, make her smile again. But still she never approached her cake lady, she hid in her home, behind the walls, behind the old oak tree, never leaving, even when the gate was open by day.
She had stayed in this place for over a year now, long enough for her to call it home. It was dangerous outside, and even when her stomach ached with hunger, she stayed hidden from the outside world. During daylight when she was not watching her love, she stayed in the darkness, hidden inside. At night she would allow herself to wander upon the grass and beneath the trees in the grounds of her home. She would imagine them together, hand in hand, as they walked the paths between the stones. Some nights she would become violent and smash herself again the walls, both physical and mental, fighting the hunger when she had the strength to.
She held on to her humanity the best she could, but temptation sometimes strayed inside the old brick walls. Young couples on a midnight stroll seeking a scare to make them hold each other closer, drunks looking for a quiet place to drink and sleep and then others who came to embrace the solitude that this place brought as they could or would not go home. Not even she could hold back then, and afterwards, when the hunger briefly died away, she would be left tormented, unable to face what she had done and what she really was. Once the police came, when she had left her meal in the open after being disturbed. It was then they had spoken to her beloved cake lady, as well as searched her own home, but this place was old with many secret places to hide and after a few days the police had gone, no wiser to her existence.
Part 1 | Part 2