I wake to my four-month-old baby crying. I blink continuously, trying to adjust my eyes to the unusually bright light. What time is it?

Noticing that the crying has turned into slight whimpers, my eyes finally adjust and I can see. However, what I see makes me squeeze them shut and open them again. A man... Not my husband that is...doing...

I repeat squeezing my eyes and reopening them, only to see something more shocking.

Fear spreads through my body, paralyzing it.

The man...is peeling off the skin on my son's hand, which is separated from his body, as if it were a tangerine. I try to move, to scream, but nothing is coming out...

I feel like a statue with moving eyes...

I look at my son, which the man has kept in between his legs, probably to make the cutting process easier.

His tiny body is facing my direction, and his eyes are closed, but there are traces of pain on his face.

The man finishes peeling, he puts the knife down and takes out the torch that was in his mouth. Smiling, he takes a bite,

Another,

And another...

When he is done, he sucks on the bone, licks his lips then puts it down...

He lowers himself, enough to have his lips near my son’s ear,

He whispers

“Thanks, baby...I wasn't wrong when I chose you,” he chuckles, “you were tasty...” he straightens himself and starts to laugh...

“You bitch!” I hear, followed by the familiar sting on my cheek...

I realise that I was sleeping...

It must have happened again...

“How dare you still be asleep!”

It's my husband.

I start shaking and I open my eyes to see him holding one of his belts. I look around, realising what had happened and there she was, our-three-year old daughter protecting her baby brother, while silently crying.