perfect

’m still awake at 4. Beside me you sleep off the two young women. It’s not the noises your gut makes that’s keeping me awake, though they’re constant, filling the bedroom with liquid sounds.

Everything is just so perfect.

I think back to an earlier life, before I invited you up that mountain. When I carried only the drive to find you, though I didn’t know that you were the one I was looking for. I smirk to myself in the darkness. Perhaps I would have found some other predator eventually? More to the point, perhaps they would have found me. The thought leaves me cold. Everything is perfect.

Your breathing changes and you turn over in bed. At your new weight this is a minor challenge. The half-digested girls shift inside your guts, a brief internal massage that makes you give a sleepy sigh of appreciation. Then you’re asleep again, snoring gently.

Life and death. Good and evil. Expectations and pressure. It all fell away from me when you revealed what you were. You took them away and stepped into the centre of my life. It’s like you’ve already consumed me but I’m still here to enjoy it. I get to have my cake and eat it.

Your breath catches. A second or two later a pocket of gas emerges, strongly meaty. I stroke your hair, so lightly I don’t wake you.

Someday I’ll be gone. I’ll disappear into the rumbling, churning gut whose song pulls on me like a lullabye. It will treat me like all the other hundreds, thousands. Exactly the same. My soul will never leave the embrace of your own. Put like that it sounds romantic but I know you will drown me. Still, here I am, watching you sleep.

Will you remember me, a month, a year after you’ve taken me? I’ve reminded you of Freya’s name once a week for months now under one pretext or another, and it’s like she does not stay in your mind. Either that or you’ve realised what I’m doing and are fucking with me. I smile fondly.

When you have eaten me, will you remember me?