The room spun as I stood up, bringing myself from off the old hardwood floors. I was back in Poppy's kitchen, away from that ghoulish scene. I grabbed the back of the chair to steady myself; my legs felt like jelly, as if I had just run a marathon. Sitting in the chair, my stomach violently churned as I heard a deafening CRUNCH from across the table. I looked up and saw Poppy with the tip of a finger in his mouth, teeth bared as he bit down, pulling his hand away and turning his head, tearing off a section. I ran for the sink, not quite making it before throwing up on the floor and the counter in front of the sink.
"Are you ok Mattie?" Poppy asked, with genuine concern in his voice. He turned sideways in his chair so he could see over his shoulder, where I was standing at the sink.
I rinsed my mouth out and gargled with water from the faucet before turning back to look at my great grandfather. Another loud CRUNCH came, but this time he was only holding a half-eaten sausage stick. I didn't move, transfixed on the piece of food in his hands. I stared at it, waiting for it to turn back into a finger, but it remained a sausage stick. I watched as he placed the piece back into his mouth, and bit down into the tough, dry skin that resulted in the loud crunch from a moment ago. I didn't move; I couldn't move. I couldn't trust my own eyes.
Am I losing my mind?! I was wondering when Poppy interrupted me to repeat his question.
"Are you ok Mattie?"
"I'm fine, I don't know what happened though. How long was I out?" I asked him.
"Out? I started telling you about how my stepfather was abusive, would starve and beat me and my brothers and sister, and you fell out of the chair and hit the floor. You got up as soon as you fell. Are you sure you are ok Mattie?"
I again said I was fine, as I sat back down to make sense of what was happening. He told the story so vividly that I could see every detail, yet I fell and came back up without a moment's pause? I thought to myself. I had to figure this out, and the only way was going to be by trudging forward.
"What happened next with your stepfather?" I questioned, keen to hear the response. "My head is a mess right now Pops, but I don't remember the next part."
"How could you remember it, child? I haven't told you the rest of the story."
How can he not remember telling me that story, especially in the explicit, vivid detail he did? "What happened next? With your stepfather?" I asked.
"It was rather simple, Mattie. He was beating me and my siblings, so finally I decided he wasn't
going to anymore. I took a knife from our kitchen and followed him to work one day and stabbed him. A few days later there was a report that some animals had ripped a poor man to pieces, and after that I never hurt anyone else for a long time. I had to do it, to protect me and my brothers and sister."
I sat in deep concentration, trying to decipher what was going on with me. Is Poppy going senile? Or is there something wrong with me. He just told me the story of killing his stepfather, but it doesn't match up to what he just told me a few minutes ago. But, then again, he also said he didn't tell me the story at all yet… WHAT IS GOING ON WITH ME?!??!
I came up with a plan.
Grabbing my phone, I opened my voice recorder app. I turned on the voice recorder so I would have undeniable proof of the story Poppy gave me, and I checked the time.
11:14 A.M.
"Can you tell me about what happened next? Did anyone know that was your stepfather that was found? Did anyone ever suspect it was you? Who did you kill next?" I rattled the questions off, one after the next.
He got very excited and perked up at my sudden interest in his gruesome history. "The next person I had to kill was, again, to protect myself. It was years later, Mattie…"