Pica

I don't usually do two in one day, but this one came to me all of a sudden and I couldn't resist the urge to just get it down.

I couldn't ask for a much better life. I’m fit, in my prime, and I have an awesome job. I have a beautiful wife, and our first child is on the way. I’m happy.

Sure, it’s been difficult at times. Mood swings are common, but not unmanageable. She uses the bathroom a lot. She has trouble sleeping sometimes. I know though, that in the end, all the trouble will be worth it.

Yeah, sometimes she has funny cravings, but that’s normal, right? Almost every pregnant woman has that weird urge to eat pickles and ice cream, or just want to chug lemon juice or something like that. So Melanie wanted to eat dirt, who am I to stop her? She's my wife and I want to keep her happy. I did a little research, and yeah, it’s not common, but it isn't exactly unheard of.

And okay, maybe it got weirdly specific. She started asking for fresh grave dirt, and I’ll admit I looked at her funny, but I've never been one to tell my wife “no”. A happy wife makes for a happy husband, know what I mean?

I couldn't be happier. She’s three months pregnant, and I can already see and feel my little guy moving around in there. And, yeah, just this week she started asking for rotten meat, but that’s only because my little guy is growing so fast!

I’ll admit, I am a little concerned, though. I’m not sure where to get the meat. Every time I’ve brought her something, be it week old steak from the dumpster outside of Denny’s or that box of chicken wings I found in the trash by the bar, the one with all the flies on it, she tells me it’s “too fresh”.

Yeah, yeah, I know Melanie’s funeral was four months ago, what about it? Sure, it was depressing, but do you think I’m gonna let something like that get in the way of our happiness? No, sir.

We’re gonna name him James, after her father.

Guilt

It knows.

It knows what I did. I didn't mean to hurt her, and I didn't think anyone would find out, but it knows and now it’s here and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.
I can hear it scratching at the door. I can smell it’s sulfur stink from across my bedroom. I can feel the dread clutching at my heart like a vise. It knows.

We were at the park, alone together. Just she and I and the stars. She said no, but I didn't listen. She screamed and I hit her and she fell and there were rocks and there was blood and she stopped screaming but I didn't stop.
I buried her deep, far out where no one would find her. The police came, I cried and told them I didn't know and they believed me.

It doesn't believe me. It knows what I did. It knows and now it’s here and now I have to pay.

My heart stops in my chest at the same moment the sound of its claws dragging on the door stop, and starts again suddenly when I hear it breathing, feel the hot air on the back of my neck. It’s here.

It knows.