Through Thick and Thin

I always envisioned myself as someone who stayed true to what she liked, never to be swayed by others’ judgment. Never did I think the Heavens would take it as a challenge. Yet here I was, drooling over my neighbor’s delicate ears like a hungry toddler. They must have noticed something. They shot me a suspicious glare. I wanted to defend myself. My expression must have looked terrifying right now. I was trying to hold myself back. But what was I to say?

I was the one most caught off guard by this absurd turn of events. This morning had been chaotic and full of excitement, because today the new limited edition drinks at my local cafe were out. I didn’t dread going in to work after yet another sleepless night, courtesy of my insomnia. I entered the coffeeshop, humming happily, ready to try a new drink.

Then, a familiar face caught my eye. I came over to greet them in the bustling coffeeshop, excited to share a few precious minutes of conversation. Ever since their move a few months ago, I wished for us to be closer. In this neighborhood populated by an old white demographic, the appearance of a non-binary person was a welcome sight, like rain during a drought.

Today presented the perfect opportunity to take the first step. We started chatting about the upgrades needed in the neighborhood, still waiting on our drinks. The light caught on the diamond stud earrings they were wearing. I recalled the nightmare that kept me up last night whn my gaze fixated on their ears,. A strange heat rose in my chest. I wanted to put their ear in my mouth. Like in last night’s dream, I wished my tongue could explore each crevice, a bit of teasing before I bit down until it bled. I looked like a pervert. I was a pervert. It was the label that suited me best. I daydreamed about holding them down, my teeth nibbling their bloody ear, oblivious to their terrorized screams.

They stopped talking. Under their watchful gaze, I felt ashamed. I didn’t want to show them this ugly side of me. The waiter chose this tension filled moment to put our drinks down on the table. The enticing aroma of cardamom lured me to take a sip of the drink. Perhaps the comforting taste could chase away the shame that permeated my bones. Alas, I was out of luck for today. I scalded my tongue. On the verge of tears, I forced a smile onto my face, gave a short goodbye and turned on my heels to leave.

I headed out, the awkward scene buzzed about in my head. My neighbor’s gaze back then seemed to be fearing the possibility of a hate crime. I barely held myself back from going back into the coffeeshop to inform them I had an all together different crime in mind when I gazed at them.

Rather, they should have run away from me and hide those succulent ears in my presence. Not only did it sound insane, but also oddly misogynistic. Even to me, it sounded eerily similar to “hide your lewd shoulders, if you do not wish to be the object of desire.” Or maybe, this being my foremost thought was a testament to how much that incident from two weeks ago affected me. That creep who wouldn’t take no for an answer and even blamed me for his lewd behavior.

These cravings, these unnatural terrifying urges used to be under control… used to. In the past few days, they evolved from a passing spontaneous idea to whatever this morning was. I managed to fend them off, but they felt like a demon tightly gripping the back of my neck, ready to snap it in half at the briefest sign of weakness. It was now dire for me to get to the root of the problem. I could not allow this to interfere with the path I laid out for myself.

They appeared out of thin air a few days ago, after a particularly gory nightmare. It scared me so much, I almost fled back to my hometown’s coven to seek help. But no, I couldn’t. Not after the way I’d left things.

Since then, I developed a weird fixation on blood and ears. Pregnancy was such an abnormal state, pregnancy with twins even moreso, that I was sure these were transient feelings linked to it. All I had to do was patiently wait for this unnatural hunger to disappear.

In the meantime, I wanted to bury myself in a hole in the ground. I was too ashamed to show myself in public. Even if no one knew this secret of mine, I was mortified. How ironic it was for a dietician to crave human flesh and blood like some low-level vampire scum. This state was even more unbearable. It twisted a precious memory of mine into an unholy and immoral desire. When my parents were still alive and I was an affectionate child, I was fascinated with ears. I used to sleep holding my parents’ ears. It was my ultimate comfort gesture. It calmed me down after terrifying nightmares and horrible days. Now it was reduced to an early sign that I would turn into a freak.

I shook the thoughts away. I put my game face on. This was not serious enough to distract me from my work. Today, I had a boatload of patients.

More than ever, I needed to focus. The twins’ nonstop kicking in my womb prevented me from getting any sleep, leaving me completely worn out. My practice was thriving. I couldn’t afford to be distracted when everything I wanted was finally within my grasp. I needed to work my butt off so I could take a few months off after the twins were born. Their only family was me. I needed to step up and provide them with the best lifestyle I could afford. I hoped my money and love would allow them to thrive, even without the scum that was their father.

After walking for a few minutes, I reached my car and got in. I couldn’t be late today. My favorite patient, Mrs Pietro, was my first appointment of the day. Seeing her would melt all my worries away.

I winced. The headache that had been plaguing me for three days now wouldn’t go away and my engorged breasts were so sore that the slightest movement hurt like hell. I was left with no choice but to tolerate it and drink the cardamom latte I brought with me.

At the red light, to my right, in a small restaurant, a woman was complaining loudly whilst her friend nodded with pursed lips. My gaze fixated on her, the gears in my head turning, trying to ascertain why. Perhaps I was jealous, jealous of this distant sense of companionship I felt from them. I sighed. I wished I could do that too. This pregnancy had been hard on me. Especially after Jeremy, the twins’ scumbag of a father, left. I had no support system, no one to share my joys and sorrows with. Not that he'd been a stellar example of companionship but at least he was there. I couldn’t complain. I kept it all in. Venting was only enjoyable when someone joined in. Unfortunately for me, everyone was either dead or gone.

The light turned green, the woman’s red hair fluttered in the wind. As I stepped on the gas pedal, I saw it, the light green smoke encircling her ears like a serpent. She was a witch, like me. Well, a better one than me. One who could display her magic for all to see. From the shape of her magic, I guessed she was an Earth witch. She could probably see tangible proof of her powers wherever she went. Dry soil would come back to life when she stepped on it, flowers would bloom and the Earth would shake to show its appreciation at her existence.

My heart constricted painfully and the bitter taste of jealousy filled my mouth. Unlike her rose-tinted world, mine was bleak, filled with the failures and inadequacy that made me leave the coven behind. How pathetic that these thoughts still plagued me at the age of 35. I couldn’t get rid of the nagging voice at the back of my head. The one that reminded me of my family’s illustrious witch heritage. The one that whispered how disappointing my powers were in contrast to those of my ancestors.

Once she was out of my sight, I forced myself to focus on this morning’s fiasco. Still, in the back of my mind, I envied her innate magic and social skills.

Ding.

I received a text. “Demons have been roaming the earth more frequently these past few months. To prevent our witches from getting entangled with them, we’re offering a refresher course on demonology this Saturday at 10 pm. Call your coven to get your entry code.”

I deleted the message after I finished reading it. This was annoying beyond belief. I left the coven when I graduated. But they managed to track me down every time. They were worried about my safety; I understood that much. I only attended the bare minimum of witch studies, after all.

But I had left this life behind. I couldn’t go back now. I would be too ashamed to face the women that raised me after my parents’ demise. After I’d screamed in their faces that they’d ruined my life, that I always had to tone myself because of them, that I’d wished they died alongside my parents. This little tantrum I threw whilst they were celebrating my acceptance to the university of Chicago. I’d packed my bags that evening and hadn’t seen them since. I deeply regretted it, but I didn’t see a way back. Fortunately, the witch I loved most, Lottie, wasn’t present. So, technically, I hadn’t cut contact with her. Not that I’d contacted her since turning 18.

I exhaled. This situation was already beyond repair. It was behind me. Now was the time to look ahead.

Soon, my life would change as I prepared to welcome two new lives. In a short few months, my little family would be complete and we would laugh and find solace in each other. I wouldn’t be alone anymore. I would have a family. People to come home to.

This pregnancy had been a cherished dream of mine, one that I had fervently clung to. I remembered his reaction to my pregnancy announcement when I looked at my first ultrasound. I had been ecsatic. Planned a mini event, cooking all his favorite foods, and buying him gifts relating to fatherhood. All of that for him to run off. Perhaps I should have known the relationship was doomed. Before getting pregnant, I was searching up whether I could adopt children as a single woman. I was such a fool. How did I end up getting involved with someone so irresponsible and cowardly? How could someone who was talking about marriage a moment before abandon me after learning that I was pregnant? We had met and fell in love, the way ordinary people did, sharing our dreams of starting a family along the way. Not once had he shown a different face, until I got pregnant. Then, it was like a switch flipped. The only silver lining in that mess were my twins.

However, the sleepless nights wore me down. Sometimes I felt on the edge of madness. The dark circles under my eyes were now more noticeable. My blue eyes and dark skin made them more prominent. From reading mommy blogs, I knew this wasn’t uncommon. Yet knowing this didn’t bring me comfort, the only solution offered was to bear with it.

I parked my car behind the building and rushed to my practice. Seeing it filled me with pride. The plaque with my name that I worked so hard to obtain shined brightly under the soft lights in the hallway.

****

I took a deep breath, placed a soft smile on my face to not worry my secretary, and walked in. Having said hi to my secretary, I was heading to my office when a pink shimmer caught my eye. I lingered a few seconds, gazing upon her right ear. It drew my attention. I tried hard to convince myself I stared because of something other than these new urges. Perhaps I was mesmerized by the stunning magnolia earring adorning her earlobe. Having found a satisfactory explanation, I headed to my office.

Like every morning, she had meticulously organized my schedule and placed the necessary papers on my desk. My dark wavy hair was in the way, so I got a hair tie from my small pink bag and tied it into a bun before plopping down on my seat.

I sighed. It was in moments like these that I wished I was a salaried employee and not my own boss. I refused to take a few days off to rest. Everything needed to be perfect before I left for my brief maternity leave. Even if that meant sacrificing my health and freedom. This was my practice. The cherished babies I worked so hard for. I couldn’t up and abandon it because of illness or pregnancy. I wanted to do my work perfectly before taking a break on the 8th month of my pregnancy. Were I employed at a clinic, I wouldn’t have such qualms. I would take my PTO and sick leave without caring if the building burned down in my absence.

I reviewed the documents laid out in front of me, whilst gently caressing my small belly. My heart was filled with the dreams and aspirations I held for these precious lives growing within me. At the ripe age of 35, I was embarking on this journey alone, but I was determined to make sure that my children always felt loved, supported, and cared for. Offering them the stable and nurturing environment I had longed for in my childhood.

A ping from my laptop snapped me out of my thoughts. My first patient would soon arrive: Mrs. Pietro, a sweet old lady from New York with thyroid issues. She had been seeing me for a few months, after going from quack dietician to quack dietician. By the time she came to me, her health had significantly deteriorated. Thankfully, she was getting better and hitting all her goals these past few months.

The sweet old woman knocked. Once again, her presence was a bright spot. Mrs. Pietro was always the eccentric type. She reminded me of her. My second mother. The only witch I hadn’t cut contact with. I groaned internally. My head was in shambles all morning.

She entered, hips swaying as if this was the Paris fashion week runway. In my almost all white office, she was a welcome pop of color. The flashy red eye makeup she was wearing offered a pleasant contrast to her wrinkled tan dark skin. Today she wore a goth outfit that brought a smile to my face. She paired a black tulle midi skirt with a dark velvet crop top with a plunging neckline and sheer sleeves. The ink pot shaped bag she was clutching was most precious. What intrigued me most about her outfit were the stunning silver necklaces and rings she layered. I always sucked at layering, which is why I bought eye-catching pieces and basics. I was dying to ask her where she got them and would’ve done so if it wasn’t wildly unprofessional. I hoped that at her age, I would be stylish too and open to trying new things.

“Good morning, Mrs. Pietro. How have you been since our last appointment?”

She put her bag on the chair, helped herself to one of my pens to pull her light blonde curls into a bun. “Good morning Doctor! I’ve been well, thank you, trying to live every day best I can.” Her voice rang out, melodic as the humming of a small bird.

“Have you had any symptoms flare up since our last appointment?”

“My energy levels have been less stable. Some days I feel great, young and spry even, but other days I feel sluggish and struggle with fatigue. Other than that, it’s been going swimmingly.” She retrieved a notepad, the one where she jotted down all her special recipes and sketched portraits of her late husband.

“I see.” I nodded, making a note on her file. “Let’s discuss your diet. Have you been following our agreed-upon meal plan? Has it kept you full, or do you still feel hungry after a meal?”

She sifted through the notepad’s pages before finding what she was looking for. “I have been incorporating more vegetables and lean meats into my meals. For example, recently my favorite recipes to make have been a turkey burger with spicy coleslaw, chicken tzatziki bowl, and salmon with squash spaghetti on the side. However, I’ve had a few slip-ups. It’s hard to prepare meals. The prep, the cooking, the washing, they get tedious very fast.”

She described her diet, her head gently bobbed and for the first time, I noticed her ears. They were small and delicate, almost translucent. I was fixated on them like a cat in front of its favorite treats, the description of her meals now a background noise.

“Ah, but you still made progress. You don’t have to feel guilty about slip-ups. You’re only human after all. What do you gravitate towards when you deviate from your diet?” I tapped my leg against the inside wall of the desk. Nothing like a bit of pain to get you to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Usually it’s the treats that get me. I tend towards cookies and ice cream. The problem is, it starts with a small bite, maybe one cookie or one scoop of ice cream, but whilst eating, I feel guilty and ashamed. I usually end up eating way more than intended because I keep telling myself it will be the last time I indulge. A few days ago, I started eating two brownies, but ended up eating the whole box and a full pint of pistachio ice cream.”

This was difficult for me, the talk of food, her head movements, the hunger, it overwhelmed me. Which in turn angered me, I hated feeling out of control, like my body didn’t belong to me. All of it was the fault of the sweet lady facing me, I pinned it all on her. She yapped incessantly when I needed her to get to the point quickly and leave. The remnants of my affection for her dissolved quickly like cotton candy in water. I feared these dark impulses that were overshadowing my willpower. If we stayed on this topic, I would soon lose my mind and attack. I could do anything for a little nibble, even go to jail. I wondered if her ears would be as sweet as her. Would they taste fermented like choucroute ou kimchi due to her old age ? Would they take on the flavors of what she had been eating ?

I banged my leg against the desk again. Mrs. Pietro shot me a worried look which I ignored. I needed to break out of this damn spell and quick. The wisest decision would have been to stop the session and send Mrs Pietro on her way. However, I couldn’t cut off a patient in need. I resolved to conclude this segment of the conversation.

“I see. Mrs Pietro, you do not need to be this strict with yourself. An uncompromising diet will only lead to more shame and failure. I’d rather you be kind to yourself and take one step at a time. First, allow yourself a few indulgences. Stick to the meal plan 80% of the time and have a little cheat day 20% of the time, without going overboard, obviously. Slowly, we’ll incorporate more healthy treats into your diet. Is that okay with you?”

Usually at this moment, I would have some words of reassurance. Elderly patients especially needed to feel comforted and supported, but I wasn't in a position to do it then. I was stiff in my chair, the hunger her ears ignited in me was the culprit for my sudden changed attitude. This morning the cravings weren’t this bad. Nothing happened in the meantime that would explain such a drastic change.

“Let’s talk about exercise, shall we?” I could finally steer away from the subject of food. I sighed internally. Maybe these urges would now diminish.

“I know we agreed on walking last time, but I have taken up swimming recently and it’s been doing wonders for me. I think I would rather stick to this.” She was positively beaming, she then described her morning swims at the beach.

The rest of the appointment passed by in a blur.

I barely listened to her throughout the whole session, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her ears, especially her left ear. It was calling out to me gently. Asking me to have a taste.

At the end of our time together, she came in for a hug, and I almost bit her ear off. It was silly, I had to restrain myself from tearing off and chewing my patient’s ear. My exhausting day had taken a turn, transforming into a cartoonish nightmare. And I was its leading star.

But in truth, it was hard for me to be so close to it. Seeing it within reach made me want to taste it, to savor its flavor. To lick the blood coming out of it like some delicious and exotic dipping sauce.

It was a bizarre and alarming impulse; the very idea of attacking my patient was scaring me. Yet, no matter how much I struggled against it, I couldn’t eliminate it. I saw Mrs. Pietro off, an image of me taking a chunk of her ear kept replaying in the back of my mind

I was considering not going into the office today. I forced myself to do it despite my gut feeling. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to the office today. Maybe something was wrong with me. For the rest of the day, I remained cold to my patients. They seemed uncomfortable, I was usually warm, but I couldn't take any chances. When they were in front of me, all I could fantasize about was sinking my teeth into their ears. I could vividly picture myself hunched over them, my teeth sinking into their flesh, they let out an agonizing scream. The worst part was, in these daydreams, their screams only made me bite down harder. I was a sadistic monster invigorated by their pain and fear.

By the end of the day, I thought my knuckles would permanently turn white. I had gripped my chair so hard to not leap across my desk to attack my patients.

****

When I first got out into the parking lot behind my office, I was relieved. The biting cold air had me focused on how thin my clothes were. I had worn a light coat this morning, it was only the start of winter here in Deerfield, Vermont. My fingers turned into ice and for a brief moment, I found a respite. This weather was bringing me back to my senses. I was no longer a cannibal foaming at the mouth at the mere thought of my patients’ flesh.

I made my way to my car, tormented by this unusual pregnancy craving, my attention was abruptly diverted. I spotted a form out of the corner of my eye. Like a crow spotting a shiny jewel, I couldn’t detach my gaze from it.

Unwittingly, my feet carried me toward the edge of the parking lot where a person was engrossed in cleaning their windshield. I couldn’t see anything from this person apart from their silhouette, the only light was too far away. It was like I was no longer in charge of my body. A peculiar energy took over my body, controlling me like a puppet. It almost made me feel nostalgic, it reminded me of times where the other witches and I would perform a curse. During this, we would get almost possessed and our bodies would move on their own, the magic would get literally sucked out of our bodies. It would trail off in dark colored ribbons, covering up our eyes, our flesh, even our minds. What was happening to me felt slightly different, I wasn’t taking a backseat. I was more so caged in my own body, unable to take the reins back. I wished to cry out for my ancestors to guide me. For the witches of the past and present to help me avert this catastrophe.

I couldn’t believe myself, I approached them slowly and quietly, like a predator. They seemed distracted, and I knew in my heart that this was the day I would turn into a cannibal.

The person had their back to me while they hung their head down to check their phone. I took it as my chance to attack. Or rather, the hunger controlling me was the one calling the shots.

It was like an out-of-body experience; I could see myself jumping on the person’s back and biting hard into their left ear.

The sensation of my teeth breaking through the skin and the rush of warm, salty blood into my mouth was a surreal and intoxicating experience. I was consumed by a terrifying compulsion to sink my teeth deeper, to tear away a portion of the ear, and to savor it.

Before I could delve further into this twisted fantasy, the person yanked me off of them with inhuman strength.

They slammed me into the side of the car, and the pain from my back brought me back in control of my own body.

His appearance took me by surprise, so I stared. He was tall, at least 6‘1, a mustache, with jet black long hair, and runic tattoos could be seen on every part of his arms. The most surprising were his eyes; they were a deep violet and shone, casting a soft light that allowed me to marvel at my prey’s features. Surely they were contacts, but they were still enchanting ; lending him an air of ancient magic and wisdom.

He brought his face close to mine, and I snapped out of my reverie. Before I could beg him to forgive me for what I had done, he spoke up.

“Thank you for responding to my call, Lena,” he said in a suave voice. As my world went dark, all I felt was confusion.