"How does it feel to eat a person?"

I thought about it for a few minutes, carefully shaking the dirt out of my hair. I chose my next words wisely. "Think about the worst vomit session you ever had. That's how it feels."

"So it feels like throwing up?"

"It feels like throwing up backwards," I said with a weary sigh. "You know that helpless feeling you get when you just can't hold your puke anymore? Like that."

She glared at me, but kept her cool – a crumpled cigarette danced its way from her pocket to my mouth. She lit me up and watched me melt. "So why do you do it? Attention?"

I coughed in-between drags, sputtering on the ash in my lungs for a moment. "Attention? Sweetheart, if I wanted attention I'd do a handstand; I'd beat up a little kid; I'd smoke in front of my grandmother. I wouldn't rip a person to shreds and devour them." I flashed her a shark-toothed grin and took another puff. The little white stick of tobacco began to turn red as I fiddled with it.

"You didn't answer my question," she said, utterly calm despite my hollow sycophancy.

I was beginning to mellow out a bit, so I indulged her. Why not? Brunettes need love too. "I guess you could say that my soul has a duality about it. Wrinkled, abused, bloodied, and torn straight down the middle like a high-school breakup letter. The half that eats people… that's not me, so to speak. That's something else entirely, and it's plagued me my entire life."

A pregnant silence passed as she tried to take it in. "You're crazy, then – you're schizophrenic. Is that what you're saying?"

"Not exactly, sweetheart…"

"That's what you're saying. Great. Just great."

Another long, pensive drag from the cigarette. Half down. "You know what the worst part is? I'm constantly aware that my brain is split in two, even when the cannibal half takes over. Every time my tongue touches blood, my sane side screams in agony. It's pretty fucked up."

"You're pretty fucked up if you ask me."

"Aw. That can't be fair to my sane half, can it?" I said. Blood becoming old and sticky on my lips, I stood up and gave my interrogator a little kiss. She sighed and took it, glaring at me the entire time.

"Tastes like blood."

"Probably because it's blood."