I’m staring up at a ceiling; not sure why. It feels as though… my brain is underwater. Yeah. Like my whole subconscious is underwater, and my body is just floating along without me. Hello? I try to call out, but the only thing that comes out is a long, low, guttural moan. There’s a nagging sensation that I’ve heard this sound before, but I dunno where. I’m starving. That’s the one thing I do know.
Pushing myself up to my feet, I stand in the barn, swaying a bit until I can catch my balance. I’m still underwater. Hungry. The thought and the feeling come back once more, with force. There’s a door, and a sound outside of it. I go through it.
There’s someone near me, to the left, eating something. Maybe someone. I dunno. I stumble over and fall to my knees next to him. Who are you? I try to ask. The groan is back. Who am I? I wonder, but I stop caring who I am or what I’m doing, because the smell of the person this other guy is eating hits me like a train. And I’m still starving.
I reach down to take a fistful of the blood and guts that smell just like steak right about now, when I smell veal only a few steps away. I decide that having my own meal is better than sharing someone else’s.
I quickly learn that one of my hands is only a metal stump, and when I try to eat with it, I only end up stuck. I try the other hand. It’s better, though missing two fingers.
I tear off a chunk of this unknown’s side, and bring it to my mouth. I’ve never felt so satisfied in my life. I feel like I should care that I’m eating someone, but all I care about is the fact that I’m hungry. So I keep eating. Tearing. Chewing. Starving.
I hadn’t been eating long when I heard a strangled moan and a thud. I tore off one more piece of my meal before looking up to see what had happened. The other one I saw eating is dead. There’s someone standing in front of me. Watching me. Weapon in hand. For a moment, I feel like I should recognize him. But then I just feel hungry.
I stand up and try to walk towards him; I trip a little on my previous meal. Still getting used to the underwater. This meal is crying now, sobbing even. The closer I get, the worse the crying gets. The word ‘pussy’ flashes across my mind. I dunno.
I reach out to take a bite, and he shoves me back. Hey. I yell out. It comes out as an angry snarl. So, I try again. The nagging feeling starts up again. Maybe I do know him. I’m still hungry, though, so I keep walking towards him.
He pushes me again, and I spin; the metal club of my right hand propelling me around and forward again, only to be pushed back once more. But, I am hungry, and I’ll be damned if this crying hamburger stops me from eating. I try again.
This attempt gets me a knife in the shoulder. I growl and groan and snarl again, as me and Hamburger go tumbling backwards over my last meal. The knife comes out of my shoulder, as I grab at him for something to bite down on, he pulls the knife out and rears back to stab me again. Then suddenly, the nagging feeling stops. As the knife blade comes hurtling down at my face, a thought floats through my drowned mind, so brief that I’m not even sure what to do with it before everything goes black: