Never Full

I don’t know what you would describe something such as this, but there’s some stuff in here. Just…take caution.

I sit at my dining table— and trip out of my chair, falling butt first on the floor. My hands are shaking.

I stand back up, using the delicate table as a balance.

I sit at my dining table—and pick up the fork, steeling myself for what comes next. I watch as the fork stabs the food, grimacing at its sound.

You wanted this. A voice hisses in the back of my head.

“I was hungry.” I mumble.

And?

“I’m still hungry.”

Then eat.

I bring the forkful of food up to my mouth, and gag as the tiny worms-like creatures crawl to the back of my throat.

“I’m hungry.” I remind myself, “I’m hungry.”

Keep eating.

I throw it up by reflex, but my free hand forces my mouth open, and I take another forkful of the rotten food, forcing it into my mouth and swallowing it whole, feeling it go down my throat. I take another forkful and put it in my mouth, swallowing again. I do it, again, and again, and again, never feeling my stomach getting more full. I sit back in my seat, looking at the food with a puzzled look.

What is it? The small hissing voice asks in annoyance and confusion.

“I’m still not full.” I mumble, poking at the food with my fork.

Then keep eating.

I pause, then slowly take another forkful, and shove it in my mouth, continuing my cycle of taking forkfuls and swallowing them.

It’s becoming easier to eat this now. The taste is becoming more familiar, and less painful. More inviting.

It takes a while for me to realize the food is…gone. The plate is empty, save for the few little worm creatures writhing about on it.

I gag, holding back the food I just swallowed behind my throat, trying to swallowing it down as I run to the bathroom.

It comes out like a river before me into the toilet, watching the rotten food and feeling the little worms crawl around my lips and gagging even more. My throat hurts sore. I’ve been throwing up for too long, I haven’t eaten that much, have I? It feels as if an entire body is in my stomach, although I don’t feel it emptying nor filling itself. The river running through my throat slows, and a piercing throb in my chest has me doubling over on the floor of my bathroom, stopping the river flow.

“It tends to happen when it comes to you humans.” A hissing voice loud enough to echo in the bathroom says. Like the voice in my head, except it’s more of a gurgle hiss. Like someone gurgling water in the back of their throat and kind of whistling at the same time. “You humans are so weak. Even when it comes to something so simple as vomiting something as flexible as me.” The voice mumbles in contempt.

Humans.

Humans.

It echoes throughout me, leaving my chest throbbing and piercing even more. My body is throbbing now.

Even as the hissing voice growls in disdain, I can feel something fluid yet hard, resembling a hand, combing through my hair, rubbing my scalp. Something weighs on my head, wriggling to my ear and whispering strange words. That’s when my vision starts blurring. Everything’s getting darker by the second, my chest still throbbing and piercing persistently as my eyelids grow weaker, and the world goes dark.

My mind goes into panic, and my chest hurts and throbs more.

I passed out.

I passed out.

I’m still hungry.

I’m still hungry.

To soothe myself, I count by the second.

1,

2,

3,

4,

5…

I get to 100 before I wake up. I open my eyes to be on my bed, in my cozy room, under my comfy blanket. I sit up to see a body. A rotting body, with pale skin, and little worms digging holes in its skin. I stare at it. And its empty eyes stare back, and I jump. I can’t scream, my throat feels like it’s been torn apart. My eyes project the horror I feel. My hands are shaking. I’m shaking. I realize I’m backing away from him. At least trying to. I’m against the wall, almost trying to phase through it.

“You must be asking who I am.” The body says slowly, its voice is hissing, always pronouncing its Ss as Ss and never as Zs, all of its sounds are soft, like wet, soft soil, but clearly pronouncing each T in every word. Its volume a whisper, almost intimate, yet distant. Its mouth, it’s hair, it’s body, all intact, with only the smell of rot, and the pale skin. But its eyes are…empty. “This is not my true form. It is a form you can fathom, I realize. Yet you still fear me. Why is that?”

It never answered the question it asked itself.

Who is it?

What is it?

I only gasp, trying to find the words. One word. One sound.

“I do not know yet who I am. But you—you do. As humans, you give names.” Its voice drops to a whisper. “Labels.”

All that comes out of me is pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

I only gasp again. My throat hurts.

It leans forward, rotten, dead smelling, cold breath rolling over my face, making me want to scream and vomit. I close my eyes shut. I’m still hungry. I’m still shaking—I’m shivering.

“Hm. I must have ruptured your vocal cords when I came out of you. For a human, you’re not speaking.”

Human.

Human.

Human.

The word throbs throughout me again, making me shiver more.

“You’ve been complaining for the past 2 minutes about being hungry ever since I’ve brought you here. Not a single thank you. Not a single drop of kindness. Why do you humans lack such common decency?” The body pauses, “You haven’t even given me a label.” It tilts its head in an unnatural way. Before, it moved slowly, almost gliding. Now, it’s twitching with a tension, making me almost expect a click or crack from it. My breathing comes shallow, and short.

I want to scream.

I try to push it away from me, but it grabs my wrist with surprising force, and I shiver at the feel of its cold hand. With its other hand, it grabs my neck, and I feel my body growing cold.

So cold.

I’m still hungry.

The world goes dark again, feeling the cold hand squeeze my neck, a tear runs down my cheek.

It’s cold.

I’m shivering.

My chest hurts.

I’m hungry.

Still hungry.