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I love my steak medium-rare. It’s always tasted the best that way. One day, I felt the urge to have it cooked rare and try it like that. It was amazing and flavorful; so much better than medium-rare. It started happening slowly, at first, and then more and more. What am I talking about? Raw meat. I craved it. I wanted to eat it all the time. My wife stopped buying steak, as she found my cravings unhealthy.
One night, I grew weary of the constant battle with my wife on what I should and shouldn’t eat, so I bit her and took a nice big chunk out of her throat. She tasted so sweet that I had to have more. Her screams died out as I ate more of her. Her blood was smeared down my chin and started pooling on the floor beneath us. I cradled my wife’s body in my arms, whispered, “I love you,” and finished her off.