by Jon Athan
Maribel sniffled and licked her lips as she tried to recompose herself. Her options were limited. She could try to fight back, but she would surely lose. If George couldn't overpower the intruder, she certainly did not stand a chance. She could only hope the savage woman would have a shred of decency in her tormented soul. She figured the police would arrive before she could harm the baby anyway.
Mothers would sacrifice everything for their children.
Maribel planted a kiss on her baby's forehead, then she carefully placed the child in the crib. The infant squirmed on her soft bed as she searched for comfort.
As she wiped the brackish tears from her eyes, Maribel said, “Please... Please, don't hurt my daughter. You can do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt her. She's innocent.”
Cindy responded, “Don't worry about her. I would never hurt a baby. Besides, I'll be out of here as soon as I'm done with you. I won't be waiting for the police. Your neighbors will take care of her anyway. I'm sure they'll be snooping around here soon.”
Maribel trembled uncontrollably as she reluctantly nodded. She walked around the crib, then she staggered to her knees. The fear of death was debilitating. Cindy smirked as she closed the door, sealing the woman's fate.
The young mother howled like a wolf to the moon as she was mauled. Her ghastly shrieks echoed through the desolate home and reverberated through the quiet neighborhood. The screech dwindled with the passing seconds, metamorphosing into a loud gargling sound. After a minute of struggling, the ruckus stopped.
Once again, the neighborhood was calm.
Cindy breathed heavily as she staggered into the hallway. Her chin, cheeks, and throat were drenched with fresh blood. Droplets of blood were spattered on her creased brow and balding head, too. Her teeth and gums were painted red from the constant attacks. She wore the blood like a badge of honor, proud of her dedication to survival.
The deranged woman sniffled as she stepped over George's body. She fell to her knees near the front door. The porch light pouring through the doorway illuminated her body, washing her scars and deformities with a yellow glow. She coughed and grunted as she stared down at her chest, mystified.
How far could the human mind go for survival?
Cindy whispered, “I can't stop now...”
Cindy held the baby girl close to her chest, coddling and rocking the infant in her arms. The fidgety baby was wrapped in a warm pink blanket. She squirmed in Cindy's arms, unaware of the sinister intruder's true intentions. Her brown eyes, much like the eyes of her deceased mother, glimmered with wondrous innocence. She was pure.
As a bloody tear streamed down her cheek, Cindy stuttered, “I–I'm sorry, sweetheart. I might regret this someday, but if I want to be big and strong, I have to do this. You... You haven't lived very long anyway. You can't... You can't fight for a future you never envisioned. You can't cherish life if you've never actually lived...”
The baby cried and wiggled, as if she were trying to escape the mad woman's clutches. She had a look of fear in her wide eyes and her lips were pale, as if she had just seen a ghost – or as if she had realized the truth. Perhaps the baby was aware of the danger, maybe she was heartbroken due to her mother's demise.
Cindy hummed as she rocked back-and-forth, trying her damnedest to calm the infant. To her dismay, the baby was not fooled. She knew she was away from her mother, she knew the deranged woman was dangerous. There were a few options on the table, but only one stood out. A feast of human flesh was required to survive – the softer, the better.
Cindy inhaled deeply, then she said, “I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry.”
She pushed the baby's face closer to her sagging bosom. Despite the shrill mewling, she chomped into the back of the baby's head – the softest spot she could find. Blood gushed from the wound like lava from an erupting volcano. She slurped the blood, then she bit down on the mangled head again – crunching through the soft bone and tender flesh. The baby was silent, dead after the first bite.
Cindy wildly sobbed as she consumed the baby's flesh and brain. At heart, she wanted to stop the horrific feast. Her mind – her ego – would not allow it, though. In the face of terminal illness, survival was her only concern.
So, how far could the human mind go for survival? The deepest depths of depravity.
Chapter Eighteen
Fairy Tale Ending
They say time heals all wounds and money accelerates all cures. Death can't be reversed, but life can be created. Limbs can't be regenerated, but prosthetics could be molded. The future could not be foretold, but the past could be changed.
Cindy Moore smiled as she stared down at herself. She wore a white button-up shirt tucked into a tight black skirt, black stockings, and matching high heels. Her stomach was flat, her breasts were perky, and her hips were wide. By most standards, she would be considered 'thick' – a label she preferred over 'fat.' She tied her resplendent brunette hair in a neat ponytail as she glanced around the room.
The seminar hall had beige walls and dark blue carpeting from wall-to-wall. In front of her, there were two columns of desks with green tablecloths. Each table sat three people. Directly behind her, there were two white boards and a projector screen. There was also a podium with a microphone nearby.
Cindy glanced towards the windows to her left, peering past the crimson curtains. She could see people walking on the beach, indulging in the dazzling sunshine. She could see the sparkling water as each wave rippled towards the shore. A few people sat on the tables outside, drinking martinis and gossiping. The atmosphere was serene.
A clap echoed through the seminar hall, disrupting the silence. A man donning a crisp black suit stood in front of the double door entrance across the room. The man's hair was slicked back. He had some stubble on his chiseled jawline and a blatant mole on his right cheek. The PR grin plastered on his face screamed: I'm a conniving salesman.
In a tender tone, mellifluous like a mother singing to a newborn, Cindy asked, “May I help you?”
The man slowly walked towards Cindy, strolling down the center aisle. He said, “Hello, Ms. Cindy Moore. It's nice to finally meet you. I've been trying to get in contact with you for some time now. It's difficult to keep track of you, though. One day, you're in a beautiful resort in the US. The next, you're at a resort in Mexico. I finally caught up to you – finally. My name is Robert Ryan.”
“Okay, well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Ryan. So... how may I help you?”
“Straight to business. I like that. I watched your seminar and... I liked that, too.”
“Really? Well, my audience mostly consists of young women, so it's fairly rare to see a man like yourself here. I don't think I've ever been approached by a man after one of my seminars, actually.”
“That's interesting... You said 'audience,' didn't you? You meant 'clients,' right? Or, perhaps 'suckers' is a better term for that. Wouldn't you agree?”
Robert glanced at Cindy with an officious grin, obnoxious and arrogant, then he turned his attention to the whiteboards. Notes and numbers were scribbled on the board in black marker. The figures represented statistics for a miracle weight loss pill. Simple mathematics showed the potential weight loss a single capsule could produce.
Cindy watched Robert with a keen eye, baffled by his sudden appearance at the seminar hall. She didn't know him and she certainly did not invite him to the gathering. He was charmingly enigmatic. At the same time, his prying made him seem like a member of law enforcement. She wasn't willing to take a risk with him.
She asked, “Suckers? What exactly are you suggesting by that, Mr. Ryan?”
Robert stared at Cindy with a deadpan expression, then he smiled. He said, “You know exactly what I mean, Cindy. To them, to your 'audience,' it's not so clear. But, to everyone else, it's as clear as the sun on a summer day. A summer day like today, for example.” He leaned closer and whispered, “It's a pyramid scheme.”
Cindy's eyes widened upon hearing those dastardly words – py
ramid scheme. She wasn't searching for trouble, she didn't want the government snooping in her business. She operated a questionable business, but she wouldn't admit it.
Stiff, Cindy said, “I don't know what you're talking about. I run a legitimate business with plenty of opportunities for advancement. If you're trying to question me about something, I think you should talk to my lawyer first.”
Robert responded, “Oh, don't worry. I'm not that guy from the FTC looking to bust you. No, I'm actually looking to congratulate you. I'd also like to offer you an opportunity on behalf of my company, Weight and See. I'm sure you've spoken to men in suits before, but I think we can offer you something bigger. First, I just need a few details about your business. I already know quite a bit, but I want to clarify a few things. Can we have a chat?”
Cindy gazed into Robert's glimmering blue eyes, perplexed by the situation. Yet, she found herself nodding in agreement. A greedy heart pounded in her chest, she could not turn down the opportunity to hear a decent business proposal.
***
Waves clashed at the shore with a soothing rhythm, creating a symphony of natural racket. Children screamed and giggled as they scampered across the beach, bickering and playing. A few couples held hands as they walked near the rippling waters.
Cindy and Robert sat at a table outside, hiding from the sun under a large umbrella. Robert had removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves on his button-up. He sipped his margarita and savored each cool breeze.
Robert tugged on his tie and said, “Like I said, Cindy, I know quite a bit about your business. We've been watching, as we normally do. I want to offer you something special, but I want to make sure we know what we're getting into. You sell diet pills, right? Well, your 'employees' sell diet pills, right?”
As she stared at the sea, Cindy nodded and said, “Yes. Diet capsules, to be exact.”
“How? We've estimated some of your statistics and your sale numbers are incredible. Your revenue is consistently increasing. Your network is... amazing. What's so special about your company? Huh? That is, if you're not all talk.”
“What's so special about it? Well, for one, we don't sell dreams, we sell solutions. This isn't some fake pill, this is a real miracle. It works and that sells.”
“Okay. So, what exactly is in these 'miracle' capsules?”
“You're a charming man, Robert, but that doesn't mean I'll give you the world on a silver platter. If we proceed with our business relationship, I'll reveal some secrets then. If not, I sure as hell won't let you leave this resort with them. Believe that.”
Robert clenched his jaw and nervously smiled as he stared at Cindy. The beautiful young woman had sharp, feral eyes. Although she didn't seem like a fighter on the surface, her threat was ominous and serious.
Robert wiped the sweat from his brow and said, “Okay, I get it. I suppose we'll have to sign a few contracts before we get that far. Can you tell me about your network, though? If we were to buy you out, we'd have to know who we'd be adopting.”
Cindy explained, “It's simple, really. I find Instagram and Facebook 'models.' You know, the type with thick bodies and revealing photos in their feeds. The type that show everything to get a few followers. The type that claim they're making millions of dollars and traveling around the world, but none of that's really true for them. I bet you've seen them before. I pick the ones with the largest social media followings and those with a clear lust for money. You know they love money when you see a stack of cash in one of their pictures. I offer them an opportunity to lose weight, if they wish, and a chance to be rich – real rich.”
“Th–That's it? That works? Really?”
“Of course. Occasionally, it takes some convincing, but, like I said, the capsule works. They lose weight, they show their progress, then they sell the capsules to their followers. A lot of their buyers are desperate men looking for some sort of acknowledgment from the 'model,' but that doesn't really matter, does it? Money is money.”
The formula was simple – tried-and-tested. Demographics were a significant variable, but the truth was universal – sex sells. Whether it was men buying products advertised by sexy women or women buying products to become sexy women, sex was the winning ingredient in marketing. Diet supplements were essentially dreams sold by dream people.
Robert nodded and said, “Money is money. You are correct, Ms. Moore.” He leaned back in his sturdy chair and glanced around the beach. He said, “I think I've heard enough. At least, I've heard enough in this place. I'd like to continue this conversation in a more proper environment. Somewhere with air conditioning.”
Cindy said, “I'd like to hear your offer now if that's okay. I'm a very busy woman. I don't have time to waste for nothing.”
“The offer is as simple as your business model. We can offer you mass production of your product as well as other tools. We can offer cheaper capsule bottles and better branding. An entire marketing team will be at your disposal. We can help in your scouting efforts. Hell, we can even get real models to partner with us. Imagine the money we'd make if we combined both of our strengths.”
Cindy smirked and said, “I'm interested, but I have a few conditions. The most important being: I must remain at the forefront of the business and at the top of my pyramid.”
Robert furrowed his brow as he considered the peculiar request. He expected demands of money and control, but he didn't expect such a simple, superficial request. He puckered his lips and nodded in agreement.
He said, “I suppose that shouldn't be a problem, especially if the numbers you're boasting are real.” He wagged his index finger and asked, “If you don't mind me asking, why would you want to be the face of the business? Usually, the real money makers hide in the back. We work the show like puppet-masters. It seems to me like you want to be the puppet and the puppet-master. Why?”
Cindy absently stared at the shore and said, “No, I want to be the director and the lead actress. I went through quite a bit to get to my position and I wouldn't want my journey to be in vain. You see, before I adopted this business, these capsules were incredibly powerful – too powerful. I looked like, well, shit. I got skinnier, but at a cost. That was over three years ago, though. I tweaked the recipe. It's less effective, but it's safer.”
Cindy's vision blurred as tears formed in her eyes. She contemplated her first experience with the capsules years ago. She thought about her journey to the top of her own business. Deki was murdered, but she was able to adopt his business thanks to his contacts, which she found in his cell phone. Blackmail and the threat of violence brought her far in life.
Interrupting her contemplation, Robert said, “I see. I didn't realize you used your own program. As long as it's safe, I think we can make everything work. You'll be the lead actress, you'll be the director, but we all make the money. Sound good?”
Cindy turned towards Robert and said, “Perfect.”
“Well, we should head back to my office to iron out the details. I'm excited to call you my partner, Cindy. Let's build a bigger network, let's sell these capsules worldwide, let's get rich.”
Cindy and Robert shared a handshake, solidifying their business relationship. Cindy's past was horrifying, but it didn't haunt her. She made new friends and formed new connections. She could look a baby in the eye without a shred of regret or guilt. Despite her own experience, spreading the potentially fatal pills did not bother her conscience. She only cared about her survival and her future.
In her glimmering eyes, her future was bright.
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Dear Reader
Hello!
As usual, thank you for reading. With millions of books at your disposal, you chose to read Bad Appetites. That's just amazing, really. It's still difficult to believe that so many people are interested in my novels. (Of course, if you hated it and you're just looking for my contact information to insult me, you'll find that info at the end of this segment. Go easy on me, please.) I hope the scenes in this book did not offend you. There are some very gory, disgusting, and distressing scenes in this book – and I apologize if any of it hit home. I write to entertain, I don't write to hurt or offend.
Bad Appetites was generally inspired by the body horror genre. I didn't take inspiration from any specific book or film, I just love the idea. Body horror comes in many shapes and sizes, and it can affect nearly anyone – that's what's so effective about it. Okay, a weight-loss pill might not destroy your body, but there is a slight possibility of something like that happening. I think about it the same way I think about drugs. Heroin might not eat your body, but a makeshift drug like Krokodil can eat your flesh. (Speaking of Krokodil: what do you think? I wrote a short story about it before, but I've recently been thinking about writing a full novella/novel about the drug. Let me know if it interests you.)
This story kind of blends drama and horror. In fact, it was more of a drama-horror during the first draft – and I felt like that was a problem. I didn't want it to be so blatant and I also wanted it to be terrifying. So, I added Cindy's confrontations with the mysterious person in her apartment – the skinny, pale figure. Who is she? Well, she is supposed to represent Cindy's illness. I tried to make it subtle so I did not preach or offend anyone with misinformation, but I wanted Cindy to be a complex character. Cindy suffers from two mental illnesses/disorders: an eating disorder and narcissism. I suppose you can say she's also psychotic due to her hallucinations, but I digress. Ultimately, I was trying to make Cindy into a real person – and, sometimes real people are sick or bad.