I don’t even now how i started working here. Or even why. I don’t remember getting to this point in my life or what had caused it. “Will that be all?” I ask the fatass man in front of me behind the slanted glass. “Add some more” i rolled my eyes internally “more what?”

“Fingers”

I did as i was told and watched him hobble back over to his table. I look around the whole room; so many fucking pigs. Makes me sick. After the fatass eat he wobbles back over to me, pays me handsomely and leaves. I have a dumb smile on the whole time, adding a cheery “see you soon” as he walks out. We get all sorts of people in here. But in a way, they’re all the same. Fat, balding men who have too much money. I go back to the kitchen and start hacking on the most recent victim. A girl, like me. She’d hate me for sure. I definitely hate myself. I lost count of the many women and children ive cut up. We dont eat men here they’re too “vital” or whatever. I fucking hate this.