The Mad House

Maneater

"That's what you get for fucking with a bitch like me," Melissa recited as she listened to the City Girls and dined on Abchanchu's heart. The music echoed in her loft as she carefully cut the heart into small pieces before she shoveled it into her mouth and gently chewed. "Mmm, you taste great to be such a piece of shit," she remarked before giggling and continuing to devour the bloody heart that remained on her plate.

Abchanchu's cold, dead body sat directly across from Melissa at her long, glass dining room table. His eyes, now glassy blue and white, were level with her head. His large, cold, hard hands drooped at his sides. His short, black, curly hair was matted in the back from his head being leaned against the back of the tall white chair. He sported green and black custom jordans, straight dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt with the phrase, "C.R.E.A.M" on the front in green lettering and green money signs on the back. He also wore a large hole in the middle of his chest where his heart was a few hours prior.

Every now and then, Melissa glanced up from her meal to gaze at the view from her dining room. She lived in a high rise building in Hoboken, New Jersey on the twentieth floor with a spectacular view of the Hudson River. The walls of her living room, dining room, and bedroom that were facing the Hudson were made entirely of glass. The glass wall in her bedroom opened via a remote she kept velcroed to the wall by her bedroom door. Beyond the opening glass wall was a large balcony decorated with a canopy daybed, a long string of small Chinese lanterns, large white candles that sat on top of round woven stands, a small bookcase filled with Stephen King and J.K. Rowling's best works, and an area rug covering the whole balcony that pictured a basket of kittens. While the overall decor in her loft screamed elegance, the balcony was the most decorated. The balcony was her sanctuary. The balcony is where she first developed a taste for human flesh.

A year before the night Melissa devoured Abchanchu's heart, her relationship with Samael was coming to a messy end. A six month roller coaster ride filled with sub par sex, insincere promises, physical altercations, betrayal, and a pending court case built on lies was the recipe for the tornado that ruined the foundation Melissa and Samael attempted to lay for their relationship. The relationship was never perfect, as no relationship is, but the domestic violence charge Samael filed against Melissa was the last straw. She had too much to lose. She was gaining fame from being a surgeon known for saving lives. She could not afford a domestic violence charge. She would never forgive Samael for attempting to ruin everything she worked so hard for, and the last time he came to her house, she let it be known.

"Get out of my house Samael, now," she demanded.

"No, just talk to me. We can work this out. I'm sorry."

"SORRY? Exactly what are you sorry for? Barging in my home when I placed your things outside so I wouldn't have to see you? Lying to the police and telling them I punched you in the chest when you have a heart condition? No, you can't be sorry for those things. Maybe you're sorry I'm angry because I don't want you anymore, but you can't possibly be sorry for your selfish actions. You carefully thought about everything you did before you did it and you still did it. You did everything you wanted to do at the expense of my emotions, of my future. So you can save that sorry and get the fuck out right now. Or should I pull a you on you and call the police to escort you out since you don't have permission to be in here in the first place?"

"Melissa, don't be like that. I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you. We can fix this."

"You didn't mean to hurt me...interesting. You're right though, we can fix this."

"You believe we can?"

"Yes, I do. You can fix this by getting out of my home and I can fix this by cutting your sorry ass off for life. That's how 'we' can fix this."