"Meat"

She gives me a giant piece of raw beef and tells me to throw it down into the cellar. I do as I'm told. I'm 18 now and have been doing this for as long as I can remember. There's some things you don't question when you're told. At this point its just automatic. Mom tells me to throw the meat downstairs and head back to my room. I've never been tempted to go down there and see the pile of bones and whatnot down there. Some things I'm just better off not knowing.

"Did you feed it?" mom asks me every time.

"Yeah" I tell her. My mom is that mom. You know the kind I'm talking about? There's always the kid that has that crazy mom that you're too embarrassed by to bring friends over. That's my mom. She hasn't left the house in God knows how many years.

"Good" she says and wipes sweat from her lip. She always seems nervous when she asks me. She calls what I do feeding "it." I never ask her to clarify what "it" is. I just do as I'm told and go about my day.

I woke up with blood all over my floor this morning. I try not to panic. I step over it and head into the hallway. There's bloody handprints all over the walls and even the ceiling. I hear my mom breathing hard and rush into the bathroom. She pushes past me and starts scrubbing the walls.

"Get ready for school" mom tells me. Her skin is pure white. Her eyes are bugging out. Her breathing is hard yet shallow at the same time.

"What happened?" I ask her. She stops scrubbing long enough to stare daggers at me.

"Get ready for school" she repeats and starts scrubbing again. Blood is mixed with bleach. It runs down and leaves streaks all over the hardwood floor. She knocks over the bucket and screams. She starts biting her knuckles. Knuckles that are also covered in blood and bleach. I get dressed and go to school.

The entire day all I can think of is what I saw this morning and what I will see when I get home. One of my teachers pulls me aside and asks what is going on. Everyone knows that my mom is…eccentric. But no one knows the extent of it. I tell him that I am fine. Just had a long night or some other ridiculous lie. I don't even keep track of them anymore. Everyone sees through them. If I told them the truth they'd never believe it. I skip on taking the bus home. At 18 riding the school bus is far too embarrassing. I make it home after an hour long walk to find my house surrounded by police and fire trucks. I keep walking by, sneaking glances at what is going on. I hear my mother screaming for me but I keep walking.

"What in God's name was that in the basement?" I hear a cop ask.

I don't stick around for an answer. Some things are better left unknown.