“If you keep acting this way, don’t blame us for being harsh. I’ll say you’re crazy and send you to a mental hospital to experience what it’s like there, so you stop complaining and bothering us.”
The coldness and ruthlessness in my mother's words made me not dare to say another word because I knew she meant it.
I could only lean on the kitchen door to stand up, secretly wipe away my tears and continue cooking for them.
With no other option, I followed the butcher’s advice and prepared the two pounds and four ounces of meat for them to eat.
The meat looked totally normal. Nothing seemed off, there was no weird look or unusual smell. I stared at it for a long time, but couldn’t find anything wrong. Even when they ate it, no one noticed anything unusual.
I honestly thought the butcher had tricked me.
But the next morning, when I woke up, I smelled a new stench. It was coming from my father’s body, mixed with a burnt smell.
Nervously, I stepped closer and the burnt smell on him grew even stronger.
Suddenly, the butcher’s words echoed in my mind.
“The eviller deeds one commits, the more meat they eat and the stronger the odor becomes, to the point where one can even smell their malice.”