It’s another day of my dad coming back home late. It hurts to only see him at night and he barely has time to give me any attention. I can’t help my tail wagging uncontrollably or my ears perking up when I hear distinct footsteps and his keys jingling. He comes in and I’m all over him, asking to play or give me treats or anything at all.
I first saw him at the animal adoption center. It was my first few months there and it was horrible. He ended up adopting me and giving me a place to call home. I’ve loved him like I love my mother since then. But these days, he’s never at home and when he is, he always smells like food. So does his room.
“Hey buddy. Sorry, I’m late again.” He walked up to me and hugged me, of course I snuggle into him. I run over to the kitchen, right beside the food bowl to signal him that I wanted food. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look anywhere else actually. It seemed like he was somewhere else. Well, he always was. Either in his room or at work.
One day I decided that I’ve had enough, I was admittedly tired of his negligence towards me. So after he came back and locked himself in his room, I went up to his door to pester him into opening up and letting me in. I knew it was going to take long.
After whining tirelessly, the door finally clicked and creaked open.
Now I know why he smelled like food. Now I know that his “work” entailed bringing bodies home and chopping them up. Now I know why he smlled like food. It was blood. Human blood.
“Sorry, I’m covered in it but…” He smiles and snuggles me.
