“You can finish the pancakes on your own now. I’ll be in my room. I’ve lost my appetite.”
With that, Camille retreated for the rest of the morning. She waited for Antonio most of the day, wanting to discuss their daughter’s odd behavior.
After eating, Belinda put away the breakfast dishes to make room for the severed hands. She knew her mother would hide in her room for the rest of the day; Belinda was not afraid to get caught butchering the hardened limbs.
After being taken out of the bags, both hands lay spread out on the cold countertop. Belinda glided her hands with calculated purpose, her knife shining with the light that reflected from the kitchen window.
She grasped each hand, peeling back the paper-thin skin with care, revealing the old, pale muscles and sinew beneath. The air became stale and still around her as her hands sliced through tendons and ligaments, severing the last remnants that bonded flesh to bone.
She scraped away blood and gnarly tissue before running the fleshy meat under a stream of cold water, bringing it towards her mouth and licking the last bit of blood before it was completely washed away. “Tastes old. Gross,” she thought.
She then cut the rest of the flesh into small, meaty cubes. The bones were placed back in the bags, ready to be buriedunder the concrete statue in the yard. Belinda took out some limes, cilantro, salt, and pepper, and began to marinade the meat in a bowl. The acid of the lime should help mask some of the flavor after a few hours. Just long enough for dinner time.
A grotesque meal for a pair of unholy parents, a bounty of destruction and rebirth. Or “Maybe they will just shit themselves,” she smiled.
Belinda put the meat back in the fridge, buried the bones, and retreated to her room. She admired some of her old clothes she had outgrown in front of her long door mirror, tried on her jewelry, and touched her body as if she had never seen something like it before.
She could see the lining of her pad through her pants; she hated the obviousness of it. She always worried someone at school might notice, but she was afraid of what tampons would feel like to her. Believing the old myth that tampons affect virginity, her asexuality prevented her from exploring her body in the past.
She ran her hands over her small breasts but hated the way they felt; her curiosity ended abruptly, and she flattened her hands down. Unsure of her unease, she put the jewelry back where it belonged, grabbed her doll, and headed back to her backyard. She felt a familiar urge she couldn’t quite explain, but she followed her instinct.
Her stomach growled angrily; the pancakes left her feeling empty. She thought of getting something from the fridge, but the mere thought of actual food made her nauseated.
She walked the yard for a while, wondering when Miss Nancy’s body would be found. She’s only been dead for a few hours; doubt anyone would check on her so soon. The woman was a recluse, with no one left around or wanting to be around. She rolled her eyes to the memory of Miss Nancy calling her a “bitch child.”
Belinda made sure to leave a window open before leaving Miss Nancy’s house; she was sure that some wild animals would sneak into her home to feast on her. Who knows, she might be nothing but gnawed bones by now.
The garage door was loud, the signature announcement of her dad coming home. She watched from outside as Antonio made his way around the house to the kitchen for a glass of water. All the curtains were open, and she could see how her dad almost went upstairs but quickly changed his mind. He redirected to their home office, shutting the door behind him. Belinda also saw her mom making her way down to his office; something seemed to urge her.
While her parents kept busy in the house, Belinda saw a squirrel hurt on the ground. One of its tiny legs was broken, and it cried out in misery. Feeding off her energy,Belinda felt animal-like hunger. The squirrel tried to squirm out of her hands but was too weak to do so. It dug its teeth into her skin, making her bleed, but she paid no attention to the pain and blood.
In one ravishing motion, Belinda buried her teeth into the squirrel’s stomach. Blood began to drip down the sides of her lips, and the squirrel screeched in agony. Belinda’s eyes had turned black again, two vast, empty voids. She then sucked as much of the velvety, metallic-tasting fluids as she could. Belinda loved the taste. A fresh, living organism. “Can’t beat a la carte,” she thought to herself.
Carefully, Belinda chewed every bit of the squirrels’ insides. The intestines were chewy, but the liver was exquisitely delicate. Limp and lifeless, Belinda snapped the squirrels back in half and folded him. Now looking like a hairy drumstick, she continued to gnaw at the pelt. The hair didn’t bother her; if anything, it gave it an earthy taste as it tickled the back of her tongue. The bones were a little too hard, but her jaw crushed each and every single bone until the whole squirrel was gone.
After feasting on her yard visitor, Belinda’s eyes returned to normal, and she made her way back into the house, where her parents waited for her in the living room.
“Honey, we are concerned about you,” Camille began right away.
“Yes, your mom and I talked, and I agree that it’s not normal for you to continue to carry your doll around,” Antonio added.
“Excuse me? What do you know about what is normal? Nothing about our family is normal!” Belinda yelled.
“Look, we want you to give us your doll. We will keep her safe. We promise. This is just for a little while,” Antonio said.
“We can give it back to you if you really want her a few weeks from now,” Camille added.
“Let me do it on my own. I will try to keep her in my room,” Belinda pleaded.
“Okay, we can try it your way first,” Antonio relented.
Belinda’s face felt flushed, and she wanted to leave that conversation. She knew she couldn’t part with her doll because there was a magnetic pull drawing them together.
Later that night, Belinda prepared the marinated pieces of Miss Nancy in a skillet with garlic and onions. After tossing them in the heat a few times, she added them to corn tortillas and fed them to her parents. Antonio noticed something strange about the meat’s flavor, but Belinda explained that it was rabbit meat. They ate dinner but hoped that their daughter would not continue to cook as a hobby.
“A little less seasoning next time, okay, honey.” Antonio said.
“Sure, dad,” she replied.
