Cannibal

"She says you haven't eaten any meat since you were six. Is this true?" the therapist asked me. I looked around the room for the hundredth time, avoiding his stare. The air conditioner was the only one singing in this room, blowing out unnaturally cool air. My fingers were icy on the tips, even after I shoved them in my pocket to block them from the chilling indoor air.

Dr. Peter Vanbourgh cleared his throat, making my eyes quickly glance at him to see if he is going to go into another one of his coughing fits. He isn't well, being about one hundred and twenty years old, and this scares me. This cough was to grab my attention though, not to clear gunk out of his throat.

He wore those reflector glasses that reflected the lights above my head, hiding his dark brown eyes. His posture was composed into one that belongs to the high class part of the city. Even his hair was perfectly styled by a professional hair stylist. Everything on him screamed wealth. One leg of his was folded to lay atop of his other knee. He held his hands together up by his chin, looking confident and comfortable. I looked away to stare at some slight imperfection in the spotless white wall. It was a little mark of some light gray marker. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed it yet. It was the first thing I saw when I first started coming here for sessions.

I have been refusing to talk to him. Nobody understands, and I can't see a reason why they can't see why I don't eat meat. Perhaps it's because I'm one of a few people who hates everything and everyone in this nation. Mother said all my hate was just teenage angst and I will grow out of it eventually. Then my brother finally ratted me out by telling Father I never ate meat.

That's a lie. I have, when I was young and ignorant. Then I found out what it really was. It makes me sick to my stomach. How can someone eat their own species? I don't care whether it is hispanic, african or asian, all human meat is off limits for me to eat. Everytime I look at a slab of the cooked meat, I imagine my family and friends in my life in that slab. It's horrifying. You could be eating someone who had a nice life before, with a family he or she takes care of really well. It's so wrong.

"It's the only meat we have on this planet. It's good for you: protein, amino acids and puts some meat on your bones. Besides, it's all from the lower class. They all know their chance for survival is extremely low. They're all not as bright as us, nor are they capable for such intelligent emotions as we are. It's a dog eat dog world out there, Ophelia. God wanted this to play out. It was His intention. We can not question Him when we feel insecurities. We must proceed through our lives and know we are given the best in life because God believes we deserve this. We..."

"Are the superior race. Yeah, I know. I've heard this a thousand times before," I said, sighing. They drill this message into us a thousand times in school, church and at home. It's what makes our society function without feeling guilty for what we have done and are still doing.

"Then why don't you eat meat?" he asked. I looked over at him to see his orange sweater contrast with the all white or off-white room heavily. His pants were as bright as the walls. His shoes were the dirtiest of the colors in the room, giving relief to my blinded eyes. He was on the edge of his seat, still staring at me intensely.

"Because I don't want to."

"Why don't you want to?" He leaned his down to look at me from over the top of his glasses, getting me to keep eye contact. I looked straight into them, hopefully showing no fear or doubt.

I've said too much. I snapped my mouth shut and started to look at that imperfect mark on the wall. He waited until the end of the session was over. I left without a word and got into the white limo after Bales held the door open for me. He entered the driver's seat and started to drive back to the mansion.

"How was the session today?" he asked, looking at the rearview mirror to look at me. I met his glance and looked out the window, watching some middle class children have fun with one another.

"I talked today."

"What did you say?"

I sighed and hit the back of my head against the head rest. "I told him I just didn't want to eat human."

"Did you say anything more?"

"Nope." It was a bright sunny day outside today. I wish I was out with my friends, but I have been forbidden to do fun activies since Mother found out. Father is acting as if I don't exist for his punishment for me.

It was silent in the car for awhile, until Bales spoke, "Ophelia, I just want you to know that I think you're a good person." I looked in the rearview mirror seeing him concentrating on the road.

"Thank you, Bales. That means a lot to me." My smile spread across my face while Bales gave me a similar one from his wrinkly face.

The drive home from then was quiet. I entered my home to feel very unwelcomed. My brother was on the stairs with one of his friends. When I had shut the door, he looked up and wiped the smile off his face.

"Look who's home. It's Miss Veggie. You know we are having steak tonight? Wait, you probably don't care since you are going to be eating disgusting leafy greens anyways." Hunter smirked, matching his friend's.

"Hunter, be more respectful please. I am older than you, after all."

"How can I respect a twig like you?" he said.

"Doesn't matter how skinny I am. What matters is that..."

"Ophelia. Dining room, now," Father interrupted me. He was looking at me, but it was as if his eyes were glazed over, not actually seeing me. I sighed and followed after him, knowing something bad was going to happen. What now? They are going to force feed me? God, I hope not.

I entered the typical dining room with a giant maple table with matching chairs. A sculpture of a man standing atop of a pile of bodies was in the middle of the table. The sculpted man was helping a woman climb to the top of the bodies, both of them made of gold while the bodies made of wood. It's the most interesting piece in our entire house, and I hate it so much. I had have many fantasies of burning this sculpture. I had dreams of burning it, yet I have never had the guts to even touch it. I don't even know if it's real gold, but I'm sure it is. Living in the upper class of society, you get all the real stuff. No fake crap, except for the smiles and stories.

"Sit, Ophelia," Father told me after pointing to the chair beside the head of the table. I sat down, staring at the wood patterns on the table.

"Being a mayor of this city requires me to be presentable to the public. They look at me and expect the best, including the family I have. Now with your condition, they will speculate how I have been raising my children. I can't have this, especially when elections are coming up.

"Your grandmother, my wonderful mother, is willing to take you in to help with your condition." I looked up at him and was really surprised. The last time I had seen my grandmother was when Mother had a huge fight with her on my eighth birthday over something completely stupid. It was so stupid that none of us could even remember, but we knew they didn't like each other at all. That's why Grandmother lives on the other side of town with the other group of the high class.

"I had a condition like yours when I was little, but my mother was able to beat it out of me. I believe she can help you overcome this," he said.

"Dad, I just don't like to eat meat."

"You don't have a choice, Ophelia. Sooner or later, you'll eat the meat. Your grandmother has reassured me that you won't be able to leave until she gets you to eat meat three times a day."

"But..."

"Go pack up. You'll be leaving tomorrow at noon." He waved his hand at me to dismiss me. I was in near tears and I just can't fight back like this. I was too overwhelmed by it all.

Loudly, I pulled my chair out and pushed it back in, storming out of the room.

"Well who is Father's favorite now?" Hunter snide. I stopped my tracks and glared at him.

"Shut the fuck up Hunter," I snapped, getting him and his friend to become speechless. That was the first time I told him that, but I don't care at the moment. I stormed out of this room now, heading straight to my bedroom.

I cried in my pillow until it was supper. I didn't come down. I lost my appetite. How horrible would it be if I just starved to death? Probably not as bad as this.