Everything I Created

Disclaimer* Heavy themes such as sexual violence, gore, and body horror. Reader discretion is advised.

My husband Greg is having an affair. I just know that he is. I could sense it when he walked into our home, late from work; saying he had to impress upper management in hopes of getting a promotion. We’ve been wanting kids for a couple years now but he wants a bigger place before that. So he says. However, we could have little ones running around here but “an apartment isn’t the most idyllic setting.” Besides that we’ve been having trouble. Pregnancy hasn’t been easy to achieve. At first, nightly intimacy was fun and encouraged. Though it started to become stale, slowly turning to once a week and now once a month. It has turned into a chore. Leaving any reminiscence of pleasure in its wake. With that, it’s also hard to have a baby with your wife when ‘getting busy’ doesn’t mean the same thing at work anymore. I don’t know who the woman is exactly...a peer, a client, a boss. Someone that has gripped him so tight and refuses to let go. Even still, my hands shake with yearning when he’s around. The want to be loved. The want to be touched. But when I try to close the gap I’m stunted. Stunted by the sweet stench of sex on him. His shirts have been dampened with sweat and a woman’s perfume. His breath has the aroma of a woman’s wet paradise. And when I kiss him ‘hello’ he tastes of salt and how I imagine the palatableness of a slug were to be. Wriggling and writhing in your mouth until the sourness of bile rises to your throat; spewing with it words of resentment and closeted desire. Though, he doesn’t treat me badly. When I'm upset regarding life or him, which it’s usually the latter, he brings gifts... ice cream that’s too cold, the type that hits your teeth before you taste it. Flowers that have brittle petals and clearance stickers, smelling of sewage water the next day; mocking me in its decay. It’s almost as if the air in our house was poisoned by his infidelity and my docile disposition.

One night, while the moon sat high in the clouds, I felt Greg graze my waist. We had gone to bed quietly only a few hours earlier. While I had sat awake, thinking of the gifts life had brought me and so cruelly taken away, Greg groaned and snored in peaceful bliss. But, when the tips of his fingers grazed the lower half of my stomach, slipping them ever so slightly underneath the band of elastic that wrapped around me, I felt hope. A pleasurable tightness gripped at my chest causing me to gasp. Gasp for something, what I deemed at the time as love, to fill my chest and float me to the heavens. He pressed his front up against my rear. Grinding and pushing like a factory machine, cold and consistent. I strained my neck to look back at him, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He was still sleeping or half asleep at the very least. The thought of waking him rang in the back of my mind but, no. He had done this before, many times in fact. Besides that, the monthly timer was nearly up. A time that made me perk up with anticipation, if only a little bit. Part of me thought we only had sex once a month because he wanted to find some satisfaction in the dried up ‘lake of love’ that we call our ‘marriage’. That our time spent separated flooded him with need for me until the dam finally broke. I had hoped that maybe his dreams had reminded him of what I meant to his heart; what our vows had held when we stood at the altar all those years ago. Where he had said “Katie, I will love you until the universe no longer exists.” A vow I had always believed rang true, no matter how the waves of our relationship crashed into the beach of despair.

He flipped me on my stomach and raised himself above me. His hot breath grazed my neck and curled up in the shell of my ear. I tried to move my head but he pressed the back of it straight into the pillow. Gripping my scalp tightly like the reins of a horse. Pushing hard enough where I could breathe but not talk. Where the breath comes out of your nose louder and faster. He strangled the edge of my shorts and underwear, tearing them down and off my feet. Then snapped my legs open like the shell of a pistachio. Pressed and pushing into me swiftly, nearly dry. Like trying to move your hands across a plastic tablecloth but getting stopped by the dampness of your palms. I scrunched my eyes and clenched my teeth. The sex was never good. It was never long either. I had always wished for both. Suddenly, I was then taken out of the moment, almost as if I'd been tripped or pushed over. I heard him start to talk softly. So very softly I could have easily missed it.

“Jess...” He whispered.

And just as soon as it started, it ended. He finished, pulled his boxers up and turned to face the wall. I layed there, my bare butt exposed to the cold of the night, him dripping out of me like a sickness. I gazed at the back of his head, the base of his neck. A cry scratched up my throat but I covered my mouth before it escaped. Hot, heavy tears rolled down my face, into the corners of my nose. My lips tasted of salt and unrequited love. I wept. Wept into my hand like it created a wall between him and I. His dreams were never about me, about our vows, it was always someone else. I would always be the anchor that held him to this apartment; to this life he never truly wanted. One he had grown to hate. I cried and cried until the weight of all my tears made my eyes shut. Taking me to a dream where the life I lived was covered in gold specks of light. A joy that was only offered in the recesses of my brain.

Shortly after that night, I took a test. I had been feeling unwell. Vomiting when he walked through the door, as if my body knew how disgusted I should be with him. However, my desire for his unwavering love out weighed any other emotion. Still, subconsciously I was nervous. Nervous about his reaction and my maternal abilities. Maybe the previous failures to have children was fate. But then I thought...maybe this could bring us together? Maybe the reason he chose the arms of another’s warmth was my inability to bare? He always talks about having a son, doing the things his father used to do with him. Reading him stories, working on cars. Typical dad things. The test however, came back negative. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on in my body. I felt... diferent. A way I can’t describe in detail. Almost as if a fog sat around me from dusk till dawn. So, I decided to tell Greg about this.

“Hey babe?” I said softly, as to not surprise him. He sat in his office, back facing the doorway.

“What’s up?” Greg groaned somewhat monotonously.

“I have been feeling kinda weird lately.”

“What do you mean ‘weird lately’?” Perking his head up slightly from the computer.

“Well... just kinda... strange.” He swiveled his chair around to face me. I could feel myself shrink from the weight of his gaze.

“Katie, can you just spit it out already? Strange isn’t an answer.” My gaze fell to my feet. My toenails needed trimming. Dirt had found a home underneath them and you could see the flaky calluses on either side. If the wind brushed past them I’m sure it would take bits of my skin with it. They were ugly feet.

“I just feel foggy in my head. I was just wo-wondering if you’ve had that happen to you before?” My voice barely above a whisper. There was a brief stillness in the air.

“You should go outside more. Maybe being cooped up in this shithole has made you sick.” He said. And with that, shifted in his chair to face his laptop. Signifying the conversation was over.

I knew what he meant when the word ‘sick’ came into conversation. It wasn’t about the flu or a cough or cancer. It was about my brain. He had said to me once that I was the shell of the woman that he had fallen in love with. And he thought that I was sick... very... very sick. Something that only a psychiatrist or a good friend could fix. But I had run clean out of those since my honeymoon and a restock of platonic relationships was low on the delivery order. My inability to leave my home had also kept me from doctors, especially psychiatrists; fearing they’d see an psychosis growing inside me that I couldn’t and that they might take me away from everything I love and everything that would let me love it. So, I didn’t go to the doctors. And I didn’t tell Greg about anything more than my head fog. And, sometimes, I wish I would have.

Ten weeks ago I awoke with a start. And not of sickness, but an insatiable hunger that had me vibrating uncontrollably. I got up, almost running to the kitchen. Greg already having let for work. I nearly ripped the fridge door of its hinges. Scouring for food like a ravenous animal. I shoveled leftovers and uncooked veggies into my mouth. Milk and the almost finished sodas that you’d toss in your fridge and forget about. Berries that had started to collect white puffs of mold. Condiments and sauces with labels nearly worn off. Gulping it like I was 20 years old and at my first frat party. Going so far as to eat the crust that collects on the lip. Licking and scraping it of with my teeth. Condiment chunks stuck to the front of them like hard old candy. It was like dessert, each bottle of sauce being the main course. I was covered in sauce, crumbs, and juice and it all dribbled down to the valley of my breasts. It was feverous and intensely intimate, a frenzy. And at that moment I had hoped the concoction would travel far enough to touch my nethers. Hot sauce, tingling me with a pleasurable pain...anything to feel a foreign sexual touch. Then I saw it...the newly purchased ground beef. It sat in the fridge like a celebrity under a spotlight. If I had seen my relection, stars would’ve been dancing in my eyes. I grabbed it slowly. I felt insane, unhinged. But it looked delicious. Not as meatballs, or in tacos, or pressed into patties but simply just the way it was. I peeled off the plastic wrap. Smelling the stench of dead refrigerated flesh. And then I bit into it. Feeling somewhat apprehensive as it touched my tastebuds. It reminded me of the type of meal you only get once a year. Something that pumps gratification through your veins while devouring it. It made the hairs on the back of my neck rise. And I couldn’t get enough. Scooping it with my hands while bits clung onto my fingers, meat lodging itself underneath my nails. I slurped at the meat pieces like a spaghetti dinner. Every bite sending soft chunks to the inside of my cheeks and down my throat. I finished it, licking the black styrofoam clean while any pieces that missed my mouth fell the floor. Tossing the empty package to the side I got on my hands and knees, as if praying to God for my meal. Pressing my lips against the floor, sucking up the stragglers. Finally finishing, I sat up. Looking around with a sort of clarity.

‘What the hell am I doing?’ I thought to myself.

Sickened by my uncontrolled urges. Though, I couldn’t deny... the hunger had ceased. I furiously cleaned up the ground and fridge, using a wet rag to wipe away food splatter. Deciding to wash up, I entered the shower, where I stood...stood for what felt like hours. Letting the hot water hit my back, turning my skin a cherry red. Bubbles raced down my body only to be sucked into a black hole; leading to a place that I can only imagine is covered in grime and other people's soapy skin suds. After, I stood some more, facing the mirror, my eyes analyzing every curve, crevice, and imperfection. A hobby that was familiar. But something, something was diferent. My stomach bulged but not in the way like when you're bloated or the way a pregnant woman looks. The bulge sat right under my skin, at the base of my belly button. But it was small like a hill in a nearly lat valley. And just as soon as I noticed it, it disappeared. I rubbed my eyes and blinked, turning to the side. Nothing. The same profile I recognized. Maybe I was sick or at the very least there was something wrong with me. But I felt fine. I felt good, which is better than my usual bad. Though a fog still hung in my brain, I was full, i felt healthy. And for the first time in a long time I was happy.

When Greg came home that night we had our usual greeting. He pecked me on the cheek not wanting to linger.

“How was your day?” I exclaimed. A sort of joy in my voice that I couldn’t shake from the morning.

“Good... work was a shit show. You seem in better spirits. Finally got out of the house?”

“No. I just sat at home. Work didn’t need me on the computer today.”

“Well... what did you do? You talk to Natalie or something?”

“I just told you. I sat around. And Natalie and I haven't talked since my bridal shower.” I responded in a smart-ass tone. Something uncommon for me. The air shifted when I said this.

“Is that all you do? Sit around all day? No wonder why your so god-damn depressed.” He was getting mad. He wasn’t used to me talking back. No matter how little or large it was.

“Everything in this house that gets done is because of me! I can have a day where I sit. If I just want to sit all day I can fucking do that.”

He was taken aback by my tone. He looked at me, so deep I felt like his eyes were floating around in my body. It was quiet. But I didn’t feel uncomfortable or guilty. I felt rage.

“You're right” He said in a calm tone as he started to walk back towards his office. “Maybe next time when I ask you, you can keep the bitchy tone to yourself.” He got to his door and closed it.

This interaction became a daily ritual. One of the following mornings I awoke with that same feeling. But today, I knew what to do. Greg and I had been going to bed without speaking, aside from the fights. A situation that would normally make me yearn for the word ‘love’ to escape his lips. But they stayed locked behind icy cold bars that he calls teeth. Yet, I couldn’t feel any more apathetic as I rushed to get dressed. And as soon as my hand went to twist the knob, I stopped. My palms creating a sticky salty sweat. I hadn’t left the house since I got my new remote job, which was right before we started trying for a baby. Before I became a recluse. Before, when my husband and I still laughed. When he still wanted to caress me. But then the hunger pains shot through me like electricity. Almost bringing me to my knees. I needed meat now. I couldn’t get it delivered, it would take too long. This feeling couldn’t wait, wouldn’t wait. I bundled myself up; layers thick and plenty, a cocoon of cotton, polyester and itchy wool. Clothes you’d return to the store because they felt like brillo pads and ants skittering up and down your body. But, it was the quickest option, the best option that would shield me from the heat of a stranger's gaze.

We had a butchery only a block away, making the travel easy. Living right in the center of town had its perks. Except for my need to hide away from the world. As soon as the door opened a ball dropped to the bottom of my stomach. Still having my hand on the doorknob but facing the outside world. I squeezed my eyes so hard spots of color appeared behind my eyelids. A hot flutter inside my chest that threatened to break my protective cocoon. I closed the door and speedily ran down the apartment stairwell. A person was climbing up opposite of me. But I pushed my face more into the collar of my jacket and held my breath. When I finally reached the butchery, not without panic when my eyes met a strangers, I opened the door. Warm meaty air washed over my face. Drool dribbled out of my mouth. Using my sleeve I wiped it away just before the butcher noticed my entrance.

“Hey little lady! What brings you in today?” He exclaimed with a cheerful upbeat smile. I gazed around. There were ribs, oyster steaks, and pork chops, sausages strung from overhead hooks. It's as if they were put there as a welcome sign. Excited to greet whoever consumed them. I smiled meekly back at him. Trying to hide the pains of hunger that jabbed into my sides like a rusty knife.

“H-hi, hello. Haha.” Laughing a little to wave away the shyness. Yet, I still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I was won-wondering if you have ground beef?”

“Haha!” He had a hearty laugh. “Of course we do! How much do you want?”

I suddenly felt stupid. ‘Of course they do Katie. Stupid question’, I couldn’t help thinking to myself.

“How much can I get?”

Every day, after this, I got as much meat as would sustain me and eventually found a deliverer that let me hide away in my safe space. I’d indulge myself before I even grabbed it from the apartment ‘welcome’ mat but not before looking both ways to see if anyone was peeping. I’d hide the empty packages anywhere I could until Greg took the garbage out. My personal closet. Old shoe boxes of heels I'd never wear. I liked putting them where my clothes were. I always hoped it would leave a scent behind so I could bask in the aroma it created. I’d eventually, quickly, shove them into the trash underneath junk mail and food scraps. Greg never knew. He didn’t find out either. He was never home enough to notice. Busy burying his face in paperwork or between some woman’s thighs. When we did talk it wasn’t much. Every moment I saw him, my heart grew black with hate. Vengefulness grew in me like worms digging in soil. This alien-like feeling soared through my veins. And at night I would often gaze up at the dust covered ceiling fan letting the hate rot in me. I’d hear his soft breaths as he slept. A soft whispering. Every exhale making me want to wrap my hands around his throat. Fantasizing about a grip so tight that when he awoke, realizing what was happening, his arms would flail. Eyes filling with confusion, swelling under the pressure. Face glowing with hues of purple and red. His breath becoming a sweet nothing. Will the only sound filling the air was the ceiling fan and my own ragged breath. As time passed, bathing was fast, as I cared less about gazing at my relection. I had once cared so much about how he saw me. But the more my despise grew, so did the need to feel attractive to him and the need to take care of myself. I could only think of my next meal. My savory, fleshy meal. But, while getting undressed one morning after my daily breakfast, I saw it.

The pains coming from my core I had noticed. But, they’d been subtle. I figured my need for raw meat was the cause. That I was bloated because of it. That the pain came from my body breaking down the raw meat. But the overwhelming euphoria after a meal was worth every stomach pain. I touched the lower half of my stomach. It was unnaturally red and bulgy, expanding across my sides. My veins painted blue and green overtop like dusty cobwebs. I pushed on it. Only the tiniest bit and it sent pain throughout my body. The way a web shakes when a fly lands on it. I would’ve doubled over in suffering if only it hadn’t made it hurt more. I grabbed the edge of the vanity. Lullabies of agony crawling out of my throat. Hot tears brimmed my eyes yet refused to fall. I looked down. My light touch had made a gooey pus come out of my belly button. I wiped it of with my fingers and brought it up to my nose. The smell made me gag. It had a rotten eggy cheese scent. Like the crevices of your body you forgot to wash. The dead wet skin of a person that was left to die in water. With it, bright red blood congealed around the rim. Almost squirting out like zits you pop causing them to hit the mirror. A squelching glob of disgusting human ooze. And it was coming out of me.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me? This is my fault? What should I do? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!’ This mantra rang over and over again in my brain. I was panicking. Sweat was creating a sheen across my body. Vomit bubbled up my throat and to the back of my nose. I spluttered out half digested meat chunks on top of the counter. It dripped off making a soft pitter patter on the tile. My nose burned. I could feel the bile covered meat resting inside. I began to see spots. Everywhere I looked there was a black poke-e-dot pattern across the walls. Kneeling on the ground, I closed my eyes. Head pounding while blood rushed inside my ears. It was like being underwater. I needed to get help but from who? How could I get there? Does my fear of the outside world outweigh my needs?

Half clothed, I stumbled out of the bathroom, gripping the wall. Leaving vomit smears across the paint. Heavy sobs left my body. A trail of tears followed me as I stumbled. I made it halfway down the hall until I fell on my knees. Rolling onto my back I thrusted back and forth. Sobs became screams, echoing off the walls like opera. I tilted my head up to look at my core. My skin moved like rats trying to escape plastic. Lumps slithering around inside of me, pushing up like trying to reach the clouds. My eyes widened with terror. Whatever was happening, it was too late.

“Help! Help! Someone please help me!” I screamed as loud as I could. Tears falling after each ‘help’ that escaped my lips. It lasted for what felt like years. It couldn’t have been more than seconds. But, all I could do was scream. The carpet was soaked with sweat and tears. The wetness releasing years of previous tenants' odors. I heard the door unlock. Twisting my head sideways I saw my husband. The only time in a while that I'd been happy to see him. In his hands, flowers and ice cream to make up for yesterday’s fight.

“Greg, please help.” I cried out. Hastily dropping his stuff, he ran over to me.

“What’s going on?! What’s wrong?!” In his voice, the most amount of kindness I had heard in a while. He hadn’t yet seen my stomach. He was kneeling in front of me. Then he looked down. His face dropped from concern to disgust.

“What the fuck is that?” His voice had grown quiet, along with it, a frightened tone.

I lifted my head to look once again. Blood leaked out of my belly button onto the carpet. Surely, staining the gray to a vibrant crimson. It had expanded. It had stretched open like an old rubber band. Long black sticks reached out from the inside. But they weren’t sticks, they were moving. I screamed again. Louder this time. Less out of pain but instead pure fear. Tilting my head so far it made my back arch. Heartbeat-like throbs rang inside me. I looked him right in the eyes.

“I don’t fucking know! Call 911.” I screamed. Tears streamed down my face and heavy sobs filled the apartment. He was stuck, just watching me. Frozen in time.

“Do something!” I yelled before I began writhing again. He got up quickly and ran to the phone he had dropped. His screen lit up and he punched in his code but then suddenly paused. He was thinking. Then he looked over at me. With wide scared eyes but the tiniest smile you could almost miss it. “

What...What are you doing?” My eyes widened while I looked at him. I realized at that moment, he wasn’t going to call for help.

“Katie. I’ve never had the courage to hurt you… I’ve really been wanting too. For… Jess and I.” I succeeded at pushing myself onto my elbows. My face twisted with misery but I also had an incredulous look. Greg hadn’t been the best husband or even a good one. But I would've never thought this. Did he hate me so much that he had fantasized about killing me?

“I don’t know how sick really you are. But I’ve noticed something was different about you. You’ve just given me an out and didn’t even realize. ” He said, cold and shaky. His words felt like being trapped in a frozen lake.

Again I collapsed out of pain. The pounding, getting harder. My belly button, expanding. My screams, deafening. Greg was slowly backing away. He was afraid, I could see that, but not afraid for me. Because he was hoping I would die. But not so soon that it happened before he left.

“Please. Please don’t leave me.” I wept. “Please!” Screaming so hard my throat became dry. All I could taste was salt and bile. Snot had dripped out of my nose and dangled into my mouth. I could feel the mucus finding a home on my tongue. Raising my head, I checked my body again. And there it was, stretching out of me. Pushing out of me. Skinny front legs with little almost talon-like feet. Two sets of thick back legs with fatty toes. Wings that were almost translucent, black veins running in them. A body almost human like but covered with a black and yellow fuzz. Finally, a soft pudgy face with big goopy eyes, blackened teeth and a small tongue that moved back and forth licking the air. It was a baby.

The thing created a high-pitched hissing noise. Snarling while showing of its sharpened teeth. Each one with a razor blade sharpness to it. It was covered in a foul smelling yellow slime that had tinges of red. Wings stretched out and it began drying them of like a fly. Twisting its head side to side. Shaking the base of its butt where a stinger protruded. Long and sharp. It could pierce through the chest of a person and twinkle out on the other side. I was covered in amniotic fluid. The pain began to subside. My mouth was agape and I wanted to scream but couldn't. I was too worried about what it would do if it realized it came out of me. Greg, still standing in the kitchen, was just watching, frozen. Slowly the beast walked of of my belly and into the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. It looked at Greg. Greg’s eyes filled with fear and he stepped back again. I'm sure he was afraid to run away, the same way I was afraid to scream. The baby hissed at him. Its snarl became even deeper and its eyebrows scrunched together. Then lowering itself into a pounce-like position. Greg spun on his heels and ran towards the door. The beast flew into the air and swung around in front of Greg's face before he could reach the handle. He screamed but it was soon muted. It had landed on his face and was gnawing at it. Greg, having tripped over the leg of the table, landed hard on his back. Making a smacking sound when his head hit the floor. Blood puddled on the linoleum underneath him, oozing from the back of his skull. The creature began ripping and tearing and stinging. Its feet digging into Greg’s face and neck. It started with the soft flesh of his cheeks. Biting, ripping, chewing over and over again. Greg’s hands grabbed either side of the ‘baby’ trying to pry it of. But the stinger was, what I could only assume, skewering his face through the underside of his chin. It tore his eyes out, causing him to scream and thrash harder. The monster chewed each eye like grapes. Shooting bodily juices across the Floor and up the wall. Eventually, the screams of pain slowly got quieter. Until the thrashing became a twitch. And then nothing. No breathing. No movement. Just the buzzing of the baby's wings. And as soon as it started, it was over.

It looked up at me and smiled. A black toothy blood-covered twisted smile. Hopping of Greg’s face it walked towards me. I scrambled up to my butt and slid up against the wall. Pushing myself so close to it I wished to melt away. Still in pain but not enough to scream. I tried to move scooting along the wall. Hoping to reach the bedroom and lock the door. But, the creature came closer and closer. I wasn’t fast enough. Then I closed my eyes tight, fearing my death was near. That I would meet the same end as Greg. But instead it nestled in my lap and latched onto my breast. Sucking and smiling. Covering my chest with blood, smelling of copper. I touched it hesitantly and it let me hold it. I rubbed all down its head to the fuzzy base of its body. It created an almost purring sound with the shake of its wings. And I couldn't help but smile. Tears of happiness streamed down my face. A little giggle escaped between my lips. Eventually I gazed back up to Greg’s body. Looking at his mangled face with some sort of satisfaction. Though, I couldn’t help but notice...he smelled delicious.