Rotten meat (freezer burn story)

 So god damn cold in here.

   It's been thirteen days since my fourteenth birthday. Fourteen; the legal working age here in Vermont. My dad always promised me that once I turned fourteen he'd teach me about working in his "The Family's" butchery. I wasn't completely sure whether or not I was excited about working there, but 'luckily' my dad knew about my future better than I did. It's weird to have your whole life planned out before you without your consent. Good bye goals. Good bye dreams. Good bye ambitions. Hello staying with my family for my whole life. Hello probably never leaving the country. And, hello depression. Well, that could very well be changed now.

   I woke up greeting the end of my life. I made oatmeal and a bagel for breakfast, carefully abstaining from the meat dad was cooking.

   "Are you sure you don't want some sausage, champ?" My father said enthusiastically and with a smile, "Today's the day Nate," I am well aware of that father, "I am going to show you the 'ropes'!" He said chuckling and holding up a link of sausages. He nudged me painful in the ribs making my already pained stomach hurt more. "Get it?" He said, now with a hint of nervousness.

   "Yeah," I said loudly with fake enthusiasm. Too loudly. He looked slightly taken back. I cleared my throat, "Yeah."

   He was unintentionally silent until around half way through our drive to the store.

   We sat down in the car quietly, him occasionally grunting as he shifted his weight. We live in a fairly rural area just outside Hilltop, Vermont. Hilltop is a small pretentious town that's convinced itself that one day it will become one of the biggest towns in America. In reality, Hilltop is such a small town that the only proof that it exists is from outdated maps made by racist pioneers, or someone, no one really knows the origins of Hilltop. I guess the founders were illiterate, or just to lazy to record information about why they wanted to create this god forsaken town. My friend Sam's personal theory is that the town was created by a pair of incestuous-cross-dressing-satanist siblings searching for religious freedom. It may be a bit of a stretch but I'm sure it was something like that.

   After around fifteen minutes of agonizing silence I attempted to turn on the radio, but Dad let out a purposeful silence-ripping cough. He began telling me about work-ethic and rules. They were all pretty obvious like, "Don't be rude to customers, we want their money," and "Remember to always close the door to the meat locker, It keeps the meat fresh!" Afterwards he told me about the opening schedule. It started with checking for leaks and rotting flesh, then continued with opening the store, turning on the lights, setting out samples and finally opening the doors for customers at 9:00. "Remember these steps, you'll be doing them for a long time." he stopped himself and sighed. "Look," he said, "I know what you feel like right now. I remember feeling the exact same way." What a fucking cliche. If you know what it feels like then why the hell are you causing it? "I'll just tell it to you straight, No," he laughed, "You never get used to waking up so early!" Fuck you motherfucker. He continued chuckling. I forced a laugh. "Do you have any questions?" Did you ever have any goals? When did you become so pathetic? Was I born for business? Did It matter who my mother was? "Nope. I guess not," I replied smiling weakly. Coward.

    We arrived at the store less than a half-hour later. After parking he stopped me from getting out of the car. He awkwardly lifted his hips and reached into his back pockets and pulled out a small flat box and handed it to me. I looked at him quizzically and he nodded, encouraging me to open it. I slid the top off and found three silver keys on a ring labeled, Front Door, Back Door, and Meat Locker. He wiped a tear from his eye with one fat finger. "My dad gave the same thing when I was fourteen."

   "Oh dad," I said meaningfully. Honestly I didn't know what to say. Not in an "I am so touched" way, but more in an "What the fuck" sort of way. What a stupid gesture.

   We stood at the front door and I opened it, Dad standing above me proudly. I smiled showing him that I was aware that he existed. We entered the building and he immediately demanded that I tell me what the first step was. "Check for leaks and rotten meats," I recited."

   "That's right Nathan." he charged behind the deli counter and through a door labeled "Employees only" which led to the kitchen, I followed. angular shards of glass covered the floor near the back door. The window embedded in the back door was broken through. Blood laced several of the shards, thin and delicate like a piece of rice-paper. "God dammit," Dad said under his breath. He called the police to inform them of the third break-in this year, but in a last minute decision decided not to tell him to come over, "Don't worry about it, I'll just clean the glass. It's Probably just another drunk. Perks of working near a bar, am I right?" He chuckled softly. He hung up and looked to me. "Let's have your first day just be normal procedure." he said smiling. I agreed. "I'll get the glass, and if you could set up, that would be great."

   I walked back around towards the freezer to check for "leaks and rotten meats". After reaching the large metal door I clasped both of my hands onto the thick handle and turned up and opened the door to a grim sight. Pools of blood covered the floor like a psychotic Jackson Pollock painting under the cocoons of hanging meat strung around the room like streamers. It's a party and you're all invited. I took a shallow whiff of the room not able to will myself to take a step into the room. Iron. I slammed the door and twisted the handle tight. "All clear!" I yelled to my dad.

   Maybe It's better this way..

   The rest of the day was uneventful besides the occasional creeps buying meat for undisclosed reasons (most definitely not for eating). Uneventful until closing time. It ended as it had begun. Quite, tired and awkward. Dad asked me to clean up. I passive-aggressively wiped down surfaces and wrapped uneaten meat. Half an hour went by before I was finished. I was unaware whether Dad wanted me to throw the uneaten meat away or to save it in the freezer, So I began calling out for him. It was about then when I noticed that I hadn't seen him since he asked me to start cleaning. I began panicking a little bit. holding the meats in my hands. I walked back to the kitchen and dropped the meat. I tensed up when I saw the blood trail, leaving messy streaks from behind the counter, to the open freezer. I stepped over the broken plate and entered the death room. "Dad?" I croaked. No reply. I inched in further, occasionally stepping in pools of blood. I heard a scuffling towards the back of the room, behind several drained cow corpses, and my eyes were drawn to a pair of limp, blood-streaked legs. They looked as if they were balancing on their toes like a ballerina. Blood drenched it's loose fitting boxers, sticking them to it's legs. As I got closer I realized that the legs were accompanied by a pool of intestines sadly dripping out of the figures chubby stomach. it's skin was pinned back creating a gaping mouth with rib-cage teeth.

   "Nate.." the figure gasped. It was my dad. Blood filled his mouth, he spit it out onto the ground coughing. That made the meat cleaver lodged in his neck jiggle. I inhaled. The smell I once recognized as Iron, I now realized was the smell of death. My lunch and breakfast exploded out of my mouth. my hands flew up on instinct but were covered in my wet throw-up. I Collapsed to my hands and knees and  closed my eyes. WHAT THE FUCK. My head was jolted backwards as I felt something, moist, cold, and.. squishy around my neck. the back of my head rested on what felt like a pair of empty legs. My eyes watered and my throat felt empty. I took a breath but the air got no where. I wrapped my disgusting fingers around the equally gross cord and pulled but it only tightened. I let go and the cord snapped hard around my neck. I reached back and grabbed my attackers ankles. I dug my fingernails into their skin and pulled, hard. Their skin stretched and slowly, on the left ankle, it ripped. my attacker screamed, a high, feminine scream. I lunged forward directly into the vomit and blood and scratched my way a few feet away. Her screams pierced my ears and I turned around to face her. She was shorter than my dad was and had light blond hair, An eye-patch covered her right eye. Her most prominent feature.... was her chest, or rather, what would have been her chest, despite a giant hole in it. There was interestingly, a lack of internal organs in this said chest, other than her droopy intestines, which she had previously used to choke me. I scratched backwards and pressed myself against the corner of the room behind my father. Dizzy, I stood up, using the wall as a guide. She charged towards me, her run messy and uneven, her back twisting weirdly due to lack of support. I ran across the wall in the opposite direction, she slipped in the blood falling backwards, I used that opportunity to bolt for the exit. As I exited I realized that she, or, it, was the one who bled all over the floor in the freezer this morning. Dead animals do not bleed. Those tracks I thought were going into freezer must have actually been leaving. She was probably hiding behind the counter when I entered. She had been planning this. She had been there the whole time he was, the thought was very unnerving.

   I ran towards the front door and hopped over the counter. I got out my key and stuck it in the door, urgently twisting it. I successfully unlocked it and pulled the door open but suddenly it clogged. I pulled it harder but it didn't budge. she had chain locked it from the outside. there was possibly enough room for me to fit through the door hole. just enough. I squatted down and turned my head to the side. but as soon as I stuck my left arm through, I felt her hands on my legs. she pulled me back  and pushed my shoulders to the ground, hard. My eyes focused and I saw the meat cleaver swing down. I moved my head and fidgeted my shoulder. The cleaver landed deep above my left pectoral. More than half submerged. I screamed loudly from the pain, and then realized, that, maybe, if I screamed loud enough, someone might hear me. I screamed again and kicked my legs out, directly into her breasts, causing her to shoot back. "HELP ME! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP!" I continued screaming as I wobbled down out of the room, to check the back door. The cleaver bobbed up and down as I ran. my chest grew warm with blood.

    The woman screeched after me. I pushed open the back door, only to find that it too was closed. My only way out was through the window. The window with broken glass sticking out of it. I gritted my teeth and looked back. she would be here soon. I put my arms outside of the window avoiding the glass and jumped up, but slipped on the blood trails. I Hit the rim but kept my legs on the floor. My chest felt full, and I realized that I had been impaled on the shards of glass. I felt the familiar pressure of the women's delicate bony hands wrapped around my ankles. She pulled me down and I heard the distinct sound of my own skin rip. My eyelids felt heavy and my chest hurt terribly. I heard the cleaver hit the ground. she kept pulling. The glass ripped up my chest scraping against my ribs, until, individually, I felt each piece crack. I widened my eyes to stay awake, and now, I am hanging from a hook in the cold freezer. I feel light but my chest is heavy. I am fighting to stay awake.

   Maybe it's better this way.... I won't have to be a fucking butcher. I can start over. I can feel it coming over the horizon. her intestines tighten around my neck. Good morning goals. Good morning dreams. Good morning ambitions.