Chew Until It Bleeds

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((Min-jae Parker continued from 友達))

Jae had awoken to the sound of his name over the speakers. He had almost ignored it and gone back to sleep, but it had come up again. He had won the daily prize. One last memento of the existence he had snuffed out, one last echo of Brendan to plague his life.

It took him most of the day - blessedly spent in solitude - to even decide to go get it. Curiosity, maybe. Not like he had anything better to do.

He saw nobody on his halting trek to the pub and was glad for it, though the suspicion of everything around him didn't diminish. He hadn't been in any of these buildings yet, but they were easy enough to distinguish. The charred ruin of the library caught his attention first, and he had an urge to go and sift through the wreckage, look at the destruction up close. He touched collar around his neck and decided against it.

The pub was surprisingly free of both the smell and sight of death, save for the body outside and the one in front of the bar, a far cry from the asylum library that Jae had spent the night in. He hadn't consciously made the decision to sleep there; he just hadn't bothered to move. The air here wasn't as overpowering with the stench of decay, but maybe he was just getting used to it.

It was the smell of cooked meat that did almost make him gag, even as it made his mouth water.

Spaghetti and meatballs and a side of hot garlic bread that was almost still steaming, along with a cold bottle of sparkling water (now with lemon flavor, according to the label). Jae's stomach lurched with nausea, disgust. Anticipation. He pressed his free hand over his mouth and nose and turned away for a few moments to steady himself.

He forced himself to ignore the food and focus on the gun.

Heckler & Koch PSG-1, the manual said. A sniper rifle. It wasn't as heavy as he had thought it would be.

Jae sat with the rifle in his hands for several minutes, wondering if he should feel - something - at holding a gun for the first time in his life. At the fact that it had been given to him for murdering someone. He wondered what Brendan had felt when picking up his prize, what he had even done with it afterwards, and then was annoyed with himself for wasting mental power wondering about Brendan. And that was it. That was the full range of emotion that a murder prize inspired in him.

The smell of the food hit him again and his stomach twisted. Jae took a deep breath and set the rifle down.

He picked up the container of spaghetti, looked into the camera that was eagerly focusing in on his actions, and overturned the container onto the floor. He poured the bottled sparkling water out in the same manner, ignoring the outraged, nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him how wasteful he was being, how much he would want this later.

He would want it, he knew. And they knew too. He was being petty and spiteful and not proving anything to anyone by wasting the food and still taking the gun.

He knew that, and he didn't care. It wasn't about them.

There were a few bottles of Jack Daniel's sitting in the pub's storeroom. 90 proof (thanks outdated alcohol regulations). He took one and stuck it in his bag, sparing one last glance into the camera before turning away and trying to forget that it was there again.

Jae's stomach gnawed angrily at him as he left the pub behind, clawing at his insides the same way that he wanted to rage at the world.

((Min-jae Parker continued in No Rest for the Obsessed))