Time to Eat

It started so subtly. It was the time where my sister invited me to her house, that Saturday night, and cooked steak for me, her husband and her two kids. She mistakenly undercooked my steak that night.

"Is there something wrong Mike?", she asked with a fork halfway through her mouth.

I was chewing my meat. I felt juices ooze out from the meat as my teeth clamped down on it. I tasted the sweet and salty chunk of flavour twirling in my mouth. This was great. I rolled the chunk in my mouth and chew again. The juices were sour yet tingling with flavour, and the meat rolled around my tongue like an apple in a blender. It was very tasty. I hadn't tasted meat like this before, and on each bite I could not feel more alive, like a long enduring thirsty finally being quenched.

"Nothing Jen", I said as I enjoyed chewing and sipping the meat. "Everything's fine. Listen Jen, where did you buy this meat? It tastes really good."

Jen smiled.

"From Woolies, they had a sale on it. I thought you might like it as steak."

"Yeah I do like it. Very much", I said as I took another bite. "It tastes amazing!"

I enjoyed the next bite. I felt like something inside me had finally awoken. This love for this meat, this love for this flavour, this love for this texture had awoken. I immediately sliced another chunk and devoured it faster. Jen's husband looked at me funny.

"Slow down tiger, there's more where that came from," he said with a raised brow.
"Sorry", I said, with juice dripping from my mouth "It just tastes so good."

"Thanks Mike", Jen said "But I think you should slow down a bit."

I didn't listen to her. They watched me devour the steak like it was my last meal. The texture, the taste, the smell, all of it I loved. I didn't care if they saw me eat funny, but I loved it. But that was when my dark path started. My niece , Anna, who was sitting adjacent to me, pointed it out to me.

"Uncle Mike. You're steak has blood."

Everyone in the table looked at me. I looked at my plate. A small piece of the stake remained, remnant of my rampage of food, was sitting on my plate. At the side of the meat, everyone can see blood dripping from its side. I dropped by spoon and fork, pushed back my chair and looked around.

"Jesus Mike!", Jen's husband said "You ate the steak raw."

"Are you okay Mike?", Jen asked. I nodded. I didn't realize that the steak I ate was raw. It tasted so firm, the flavours were there and the meat was great. "I must've undercooked yours Mike."

"I'm-I'm fine. Excuse me for a moment". I said, standing up and headed to the bathroom.

I spat blood and saliva in the sink in Jen's bathroom. I stared in shock in the smudge of red in the sink. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I eating? Why did I enjoy it? I breathe in deeply and tried to focus. Relax Mike, you just didn't notice it because Jen must've marinated it well that it tastes good. Maybe that's it.

That night, I excused myself from her family, and headed home. I told them I needed to rest and apologized for the weird behaviour. But in reality, I kept thinking about that food. I enjoyed raw meat. I enjoyed eating it. The juices I felt were blood. The chunk was raw muscles and meat, or at least half cooked. But it was something I enjoyed. It was something I liked. It was like a creature inside of me awoken and I needed to feed it more of that stuff. That was when the urges started.