Eat Up

Sometimes, in the storm of all things, Lilith forgets that her life is ultimately that, hers. Supposed to be lived. Not something to be done for others, in any way. It’s supposed to be on her own terms, right?

And yet, she still finds herself here, in this auburn park in her grey city. Every time.

It’s not always auburn, mind you. It’s autumn right now, and it stains the leaves and bark in deep shades of yellow, red and brown. It crinkles the grass and thickens the air with the smell of wet soil. Lilith takes a deep breath in, savouring the calm. This early, there’s no one here, and she revels in the quiet of the shaking leaves and crisp view. 

She should do this more often, she tells herself every time. But, you know, work. That’s the same excuse she tells herself every time. Rinse and repeat. 

And it’s true. Work summons her in a lot of ways, if not in the office, it takes her energy to do anything afterwards. If not afterwards, it soils her person. “Sorry, Mum, I really can’t write you off if you get more speeding tickets because you wanna get to your Zoomba class early. I know you wanna use the nice mats, but it’s probably better if you just don’t tell me when you do something wrong. My conscience doesn't need to be heavier.”

She loves her Mum, she does, but she follows no laws other than her own. It’s crazy that Lilith became a cop. 

An investigator, actually. And one with quite the case to crack. As it is, work summons her once more, and Lilith has to abandon the park and make her way to the office. She huffs a sigh and stands from the bench, crunching the leaves and breathing the fresher air, then waits by the side of the road for the tram. “Let’s get it done,” Lilith mumbles under her breath and brushes her chin on her scarf. “I hope he’s okay.”

The ‘he’ in question is the most recent victim of her case content. Mind you, it’s an older case, one already labelled ‘disrupted’. Another word for dead, her colleagues say. But Lilith has quite the nose for the case. She knows she can do this. She has to do this. The case involves a man who made a habit of kidnapping and eating parts of his victims. 

Not like that! Mostly just nails, sometimes hair, often snot. Not necessarily a threat? But not innocent either. The partners and parents of these victims were more an opposition than him, to be honest. And that one girl who lost her ponytail.

What a scene that was. The cleaner had to work at that window for days just to get the stains off. Lilith has the pictures to prove it. But that’s not the point. The point is to try to find the guy before he ruins someone else’s hair. 

-

Lilith feels someone poke her head. She quickly sits up, choking on a strand of spaghetti, and looks for her assailant. It’s Liam, her coworker (and crush), and he’s smiling shyly down at her from in front of her desk. For a moment, just a moment, she forgets what air is, and boy does it do wonders for her lungs. After a minute of hacking (cutely she hopes), she’s cognizant enough to respond to Liam. “Yes?” Lilith wheezes. Liam bares his teeth in a grimace. “Uh, you’ve been staring down at your spaghetti for the past few minutes; I just wanted to make sure you were okay… Also, some of the others are gonna go get takeout for lunch at that noodle shop down the road if you want anything. We’re spotting.” He offers, shrugging.

Oh jeez. Fix this, Lilith! “Uh no, no I’m okay. I’ve got my-” she coughs “my uh, spaghetti. I’m good.” What? Liam nods, looking bored. “Sure. Well uh, I’ll let you get back to it then. See ya?” He nods, turning away to follow after the group. Lilith waves a little as he leaves, then uses the same hand to smack herself in the face. “Ugh!” She groans. 

Lilith uncovers her face after a bit of self-deprecation. Her hand falls back to the table to finish her spaghetti and instead hits a small stack of papers. She looks down at them hazily, making out her own handwriting. Strangely though, she doesn’t remember writing this today. She didn’t need to write anything today! She was looking at online notes. The last thing she remembers at all was searching through some files relating to her perpetrator (nicknamed Flesh Eater. I know, kinda cringe. And false, I guess.)

Then how did this get here? First, she looks at the notes themselves. Her blue pen sat in the cup holder, as usual, staring back at her. The style looked right. And the notes- are about the perpetrator. Really? Of course, it made sense; that part. But it also- didn’t. The words detailed the previous locations of the victims he’d leave after taking their snot. Street names and alleyways. Others were notes on what the victims said. Mostly comments on the guy eating snot. Some of his appearance; is masked, scrawny build, and stupid tattoos of anteaters on his arms. “Materials used: cable ties, syringes, blindfolds. The location described: basement, one window, bare room.” 

Dang, these are thorough. More paragraphs, some highlighted, line the pages. Now that she thinks about it, Lilith does feel an ache in her hand. Why are they written? Why not type? Wait, who wrote these- wait. 

No. No! Not again!

She ate eggs today! She knows not to eat eggs! Especially not scrambled. This always happens when you eat eggs, Lilith. Idiot. Did she really write all this? Egghead, you ass. Thanks, but, you know, screw you. 

Who is Egghead, you ask? Just Lilith’s headmate. A separate person, basically. They are nothing alike. Although, I guess now they are both investigators. She’s raunchy and unhinged and a total troublemaker, one that Lilith has taken steps to avoid at all costs. Case in point; no eggs. For some reason, that summons Egghead, and she takes over Lilith in an amnesia-like coma until she decided to hand over control again. Case in point; spaghetti.

But why did Egghead help her? Why not shut off her monitor and graffiti Liam’s desk? Though I guess Lilith hadn’t earned any points herself. She graffitied Liam’s clothes in a stray bit of hacked-up pasta.

Egghead tosses a piece of balled-up paper at their teacher, then slumps in her chair and fixes Lilith’s glasses on her face. “Lilith, what has gotten into you?” The teacher scoffs. “It’s like you're a different person lately.” 

Egghead lockpicks another teacher’s door, starting a party there. Classes of kids show up and trash the place. The chandelier is swung on and smashed. Someone shits on the stove. Egghead chugs a bottle of vodka and the kids cheer “Holy hell, Lilith! What happened to you?” To torment her, Egghead stole the teacher’s spaghetti from the cupboard and ate it raw, waking Lilith up just to see what she’d done. She’d run home (stumbled and fell, more like, with more passing out) and curled up in bed, then threw up promptly the next morning.

In revenge, Lilith had wiped off her temporary tattoos and stitched a heart on her leather jacket (that she somehow acquired). Take that, Egghead! Hah! 

It didn’t work. It only got worse. Lilith learned to stop eating eggs, and she’d frown when people mentioned them. Lilith would like to think she turned out well enough, smiling as she took a picture in her graduation gown. An investigator, chasing baddies instead of being one.

-

Why would she even make eggs? Was she forgetting why she didn’t eat them? Or was Egghead somehow manipulating her? Was this another elaborate prank? 

No. Lilith thought not. Somehow. These notes were so thorough, so precise. Egghead’s own opinions spouted off to the side, concluding the Flesh Eater’s whereabouts and his methods of kidnap. Her own spice was definitely there where Lilith’s was not, in her slightly more aggressive handwriting and harsh comments. Surprisingly, they were about the perp, not Lilith herself.

“Utility stores and chemists supply his equipment. He must be close to town. He must live alone, understandably, or he has friendly roommates, unlikely. Likely a separate house, domestic. Seems kinda smart in a messed up, freak way. He gets isolated victims and drugs them, the reports confirm in the kidnapped. Then he drops them off in isolated places to top it off, and in worse ware. None of the victims know how they got there, or back. All they know is that he’s scrawny and he does free reverse pedicures. I bet he’d like a foot up his ass-” and that’s all that Lilith reads from that page. She notices a flame drawn at the bottom of the page, like a signature.

She wants to help. Huh. Well, she’s done this so far. Why not do more? It is technically her nose that got them here, Lilith would like to think.

Lilith climbs out of her office chair and cracks her back, scratching at the skin under her sleeve. A tattoo of a skull sits underneath it, climbing up and around the skin. Lilith fainted when she saw it, screaming all the way. She makes her way to the office kitchenette and pulls out the carton of eggs from the fridge, instinctively flinching at the sight of it. “I’m doing this willingly.” Lilith hisses. “What has this world come to?” Oh well, for the sake of someone’s nails, she’ll do it.

The process of making the eggs is sloppy, with her turning her face away every few seconds to gag, and pot at arm's length. The egg boils after a few minutes, and she pulls it out of its steam bath. “From the pits of hell, it emerges.” A mutter. A few coworkers watch in awe and confusion from the doorway as Lilith (one of their best) stuffs a boiled egg in her mouth like a pill (or a bird eating a mouse). Shell and all.

“What the hell.” Liam hisses and backs away.

The switch occurs quickly and seamlessly. After an hour, Lilith finds, she’s back in her own body, and more papers have appeared on the desk, signed with that same little fire at the bottom. Egghead seems pleased to be employed. Lilith is pleased that she’s taking the credit. 

Oh yeah, you read that right. Egghead found a clue to Flesh Eater’s location. A small, subtly renovated home (dingy, modded flat, in Egghead’s words) on the outskirts of the city. 

The process went by smoothly, though it needed patience. After some divulging of supplier addresses and victim reports, the troublemaker was able to point out a section of the map where the perp could live. And further, she could distinguish a bubble in which the perp avoided completely. Like he was scared it would be too much. (“Maybe too close”, Egghead points out) Some more investigating goes out, with Egghead at the wheel while she drives around her target zone. Lilith found the car was intact and the bat in the back unstained when she found herself again, and even more pleased when Egghead left her another note. This one made her cheer.

“I know where the creep is! I’m sure of it!” The paper says. There’s an address after that, and some details of the place itself. Notes. Reasons. Despite being impulsive and dirty, Egghead was also focused, it seemed. Detail-oriented, if you will. Using her strings, Lilith calls for a search of the house, and it does not go unfruitful. 

Flesh Eater planned to catch again, and very soon. He said so himself. His medical records also came back, his doctor leaving a few choice words. Some along the lines of “stomach blockages, infections, broken teeth” but Lilith didn’t focus too much on that. The guy was caught! What kind of charges would he face though? She’ll find out soon, she guesses. 

Lilith also guesses, that at the end of the day, Egghead isn’t all that she seems. She’s rash and ruthless, but she’s all got a sense of justice and a quick mind. She’s mean and morose, but also daring and maybe, just maybe, kinda funny. 

Lilith would tell you so. Begrudgingly, yes, but so.