Erotimaniac

The scent of mashed potatoes, gravy, and ham drifted through the home.

Water for coffee and tea boiled in a kettle on the stove. Plates, Silverware,

and folded napkins were set on the table for five people. Ethan dipped his

fingers into the mashed potatoes, then he tasted the dish. He dipped his

finger into the homemade gravy, then he tasted the sauce.

He smirked and said, "It's perfect. It's all perfect." As he fiddled with the

knobs on the stove, he said, "My parents can be a little strange, but I think

everything will be fine. I mean, whose parents aren't strange, right? I'm sure

your parents are a little 'off,' too. My mom is strict but caring. Don't take it

personal if she runs her mouth a bit. My father did some bad things in the

past, but he's okay these days. He's not so strict, you know? My brother... I

hardly know my brother. I don't know why, but we just never connected."

He wiped his hands on his white bib apron and turned around. He smiled

as he stared at the rectangular table – three seats on the long sides, one at

each end.

Emiko's body was poised on the first seat to the left, a pillow placed

under the small of her back. The gash on her stomach was crudely sewn

shut. Her other wounds were properly bandaged, but blood still dripped

from her chair and plopped on the floor. Her face was still swollen and

bruised, too. Her sleeveless black dress reached down below her severed

legs.

Mirai sat on a high chair beside her mother. Due to her puny size, she

could not reach the chair's tray. She was slumped back in the seat, limp and

lifeless. She wasn't wearing any clothes, either. Ethan couldn't find anything

that would fit. Her fragile body was clean, though. She was still pink, but

the blood was gone.

Ethan grabbed a towel from the counter. He knelt down under the table

and cleaned the blood from the floor.

As he scrubbed, the troubled writer said, "There's nothing to be

embarrassed about, Emiko. Hey, women bleed once a month, right? If they

ask, we'll just tell them you're on your period. No big deal."

He stood and tossed the towel on the counter. He spit on his hands, then

he ran his fingers across Emiko's tousled hair. He tried to fix her hair to the

best of his ability, but it still remained disheveled. He liked it, though.

He kissed her forehead, then he asked, "Are you ready to meet the

family?"

Emiko did not respond. She sat on the seat, a vacant stare on her face.

Ethan nervously chuckled as he patted her shoulder, trying to persuade her

to talk. On the verge of breaking down, he grimaced and wheezed.

"I'm ready, sweetie," a feminine voice emerged from the back of his

head.

Ethan cracked a smile – he recognized the voice. Although her lips did

not move, Emiko's voice still remained in his head. It was enough to boost

his confidence. He sighed in relief. He kissed Emiko's brow again, then he

kissed the top of Mirai's head.

In a soft voice, he said, "They're going to love you, too, Mirai. Grandma

is going to go crazy when she sees you."

He kissed the top of her head again, then he rubbed her tiny dome – as if

he were petting a dog. He returned to the stove and checked on the gravy.

Despite the dead bodies sitting at the kitchen table, he continued his day as

if nothing were wrong.

He said, "This is the first step towards our future. You just have to meet

my family, they have to accept you, then we move on to the next step. Of

course, that means I have to meet your family, too. I know your family

might not like me, but we have a kid now. They have to accept me. If they

don't... Well, we'll always have my family. We wouldn't want their negative

energy anyway. We're on the right path, sweetie. Believe me, this is–" The

door bell echoed through the home. Ethan glanced over his shoulder and

whispered, "They're here..."

***

Ethan wiped his clammy palms on the towel, then he removed his bib

apron. He smiled and nodded at Emiko and Mirai, trying to keep a

semblance of control in front of his deceased family. He marched across the

living room, then he stopped at the front door. A second – he only needed a

second to mentally prepare himself.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, he opened the door and said, "It's good to see

you. You all look great."

"Of course we do," Brooke responded, wearing a black knit dress with a

bulky coat draped over her shoulders. "What did you expect? We're about to

meet the future 'Mrs. Miller.' We can't show up looking like trash and

setting a bad first impression."

Ethan laughed and nodded – sure, sure. He glanced over at his father.

John wore a white button-up shirt with a red tie, black trousers, and

matching dress shoes. He cleaned up nicely. He held a brown bag in his

right hand.

With a big grin on his face, he held the bag up and said, "I brought some

nice wine and chocolate for your lover. I'm very excited to meet this fine

young woman. Jeez, I feel like I'm dating again."

Brooke rolled her eyes and said, "Of course you do. You bought wine

and chocolate for all of your old whores back then, too, didn't you?"

The group became silent – an awkward silence. Brooke stood with her

arms crossed as she tapped her foot while John lowered the bag and

shrugged.

Ethan said, "Anyway, um... Come in, come in. Dinner is almost ready."

Ethan watched as his parents walked into his home, wiping their feet on

the doormat before stepping foot in the house. His eyes widened upon

spotting a third visitor on his porch – Corey Miller.

His brother, dressed in all black as usual, fiddled with his cell phone on

the porch. The young man was not dressed in formal attire and he didn't

appear interested in the family dinner. He showed up, though, and that was

enough to warm Ethan's heart.

Awed, Ethan said, "Corey, you're here..."

Corey glanced up at Ethan, then he huffed – whatever. He walked

through the doorway without sharing a word with his older brother. The

youngster took a gander around the living room as he walked towards the

kitchen.

As Corey explored, Brooke and John stood near the front door and

looked at the family pictures clinging to the walls. They beckoned to Ethan,

inviting him to reminisce about the past. The family huddled in front of the

pictures and told stories about each photo. Most of the photos depicted a

happy family.

In reality, the family had been broken and distant since Ethan was born.

A picture could tell a million lies.

Corey sneered in disgust and pinched his nose as he walked through the

living room. The putrid stench of death pummeled his nostrils. He stopped

in the archway, one foot in the kitchen and the other in the living room –

frozen. He clenched his jaw and swallowed loudly as he stared at the dead

bodies sitting at the kitchen table as if everything were normal. He sighed

and shook his head.

He glanced over his shoulder and shouted, "Mom! He did it again!"

Near the front door, Brooke furrowed her brow and asked, "Did what?"

She glanced at Ethan and asked, "What did you do this time, boy?"

"I–I just did what you told me. I... I did what you told me to do."

"What the hell did you do, Ethan?"

As Ethan indistinctly stammered, Brooke jostled her way past her son.

John frowned and followed his wife. The family stood in the kitchen

archway. Father, mother, and son shared grimaces of disgust. They did not

appear surprised, though. They didn't gag or cry, they were just appalled

and disappointed.

John shook his head and said, "Goddammit. I thought it was different

this time, Ethan. I thought it was real. Look at the mess you've made, boy.

You cut her and you..." His eyes widened upon catching a glimpse of the

fetus. Shocked, he turned towards his son and asked, "Did you take the

damn baby out by yourself?"

Ethan stuttered, "I–I saved the baby, dad. Her name is Mirai. It means

'future' in Japanese. I saved her to–to save my future. Everything is okay,

though. It all worked out... right?"

John frowned and shook his head, disappointed. He walked around the

kitchen table and examined the bodies.

He said, "Shit, they're really dead. They must have died recently, too. I

bought this expensive wine for nothing."

"Well, you can use it to get shit-faced while you clean up his mess,"

Brooke suggested.

"You want me to clean this? Again? This is a lot of work, Brooke. He

needs to start taking responsibility for his actions. He needs to learn how to

clean his messes by himself."

Brooke sternly said, "You're going to clean it up. What else are you good

for, John? Hmm? You're a has-been crime scene cleaner. You don't have a

job anymore and your 'specialty' is useless around the house since you don't

clean. The least you can do is clean up your son's mess."

John sighed, irked. He had been cleaning Ethan's messes for years,

disposing dead bodies, cleaning forensic evidence, and fixing his son's

mistakes. He even helped him get rid of Karen's torso. He glanced over at

Ethan. He considered leaving his son with the mess, but he couldn't

abandon his family. He couldn't go against the matriarch, either. Yet again,

he decided to use his skills to clean his son's mess.

As John reached for Emiko's body, Ethan lurched into the kitchen,

shoving his way past his mother and brother. He slid to a stop at the table

and held his arm between his father and his lover.

Teary-eyed, he asked, "What are you doing?"

John said, "She's dead, Ethan. You can't keep her in your home, so I'm

going to get rid of her. Are all of her belongings in the basement."

"Y–Yes... I have some... some pictures of her in my room, too. But, you

don't have to–"

"I'll get to that later. You'll probably need some new computers. Don't

worry, I'll take care of it."

Ethan grabbed his father's wrist and said, "No, no, no. Please, don't do

this. She's okay, dad. She's fine. I mean, if she looks sick, we can just take

her to the hospital, right? Right?"

John stared at his son with a set of disappointed eyes. He was genuinely

hurt by his son's mental condition and his lack of aid. He could clean

Ethan's mess, but he couldn't cleanse his mind – and that fact hurt him.

Being a helpless parent was painful.

He said, "No. Go to your mother. I'll take care of this."

Ethan reluctantly released his father's wrist and stepped aside. He

stepped in reverse until he bumped into his mother. His eyes welled with

tears as he watched his father. The man lifted Emiko's torso off of the chair,

then he lugged her into the basement – grunting and groaning with each

step. Emiko was petite, but her lifeless body was heavy.

Corey muttered, "I told you this was going to happen." He sighed, then

he said, "I'm leaving. Alright, mom? I'll be home by midnight."

Brooke casually waved and said, "Go on. Stay out of trouble."

Corey took one final glance at Ethan. He could see his brother was sad

and confused, but he couldn't muster a shred of sympathy. His older brother

was a psychotic serial killer who frequently tortured and killed innocent

people. Family protected family, but the idea could only go so far. He

sighed and walked away, leaving his brother to wallow in his sorrow.

Brooke approached the table. She puckered her lips and shook her head

as she stared at the fetus. So close, she thought, we were so damn close. She

grabbed the nape of Mirai's neck with her fingertips and lifted her from the

high chair. With her arm extended forward, away from her body as if she

were carrying a soiled diaper, she approached the basement door.

Ethan asked, "She's dead, too?"

Brooke nodded and said, "Yes. Darling, go to the living room and lie

down. I'll come talk to you in a bit." Ethan held his hands over his mouth

and sobbed. Brooke smiled and said, "Everything's going to be okay,

sweetie. Don't worry about it. I'll take good care of her, okay? Go on. Give

me a minute with your father."

Ethan gazed at his daughter, trying to memorize every nook and cranny

on her figure. Heartbroken, he reluctantly followed his mother's directions.

He shambled into the living room and mumbled, "I love you, Mirai. I'm

sorry for everything I did."

As her son left her sight, Brooke leaned into the basement and said, "Get

rid of this one, too, John."

She nonchalantly tossed the fetus down the stairs, causing the infant to

roll to the bottom of the steps. Sneering in disgust, she vigorously washed

her hands in the sink. She breathed deeply, as if she were preparing for a

performance, then she strutted to the living room with a fake smile plastered

on her face.

***

In the fetal position, Ethan lay on the sofa with his head on his mother's

lap. Tears trickling from his eyes, he held his hands to his face and stared at

the television across the room. He didn't care about the news. It was all

sociopolitical manufactured bullshit to him. He was lost in his thoughts,

pondering the consequences of his actions.

He thought: was it really my fault? Did I kill Emiko and Mirai?

Without taking his eyes off of the television, he sniffled and asked,

"What happened, mom?"

Brooke clicked her tongue and awwed upon hearing the question. She

stroked her son's hair, coddling him as if he were an infant.

She explained, "I know it's hard to accept, baby, but what's done is done.

Your little girlfriend is dead and the baby did not survive. That's the truth.

You have to accept it."

Ethan panted as he processed the news. He buried his face into his

mother's thighs and bellowed. He kicked his feet and swung his arms as he

indistinctly mumbled. He had hoped, by some miracle, the news would

change.

Brooke said, "Calm down, darling, calm down. You can cry all you

want, but it's not going to bring them back. It's your fault anyway, Ethan.

You killed them. You should know all of this by now."

"I... I didn't mean to hurt them. I was... I was just doing what you told me

to do. You said to make her mine so I did. I didn't want to kill them. They

weren't supposed to die."

"Your father was right. You need to stop blaming everyone else for your

actions. Stop acting like such a child," Brooke scolded. Ethan remained

silent for ten seconds, then he burst into tears. Brooke sighed, then she said,

"Okay, okay. I guess I'm not really helping, am I? Maybe I had some hand

in this, too. I can share some of the blame."

Although he still felt a stinging pain in his heart, some of the burden was

lifted from his shoulders. He felt some relief thanks to his mother's

admission of guilt, despite her reluctance to self-incriminate. He continued

to whimper and moan as he stared at the television.

Brooke said, "I should have been around more often – then and now. I

should have raised you better and I should have met this woman days ago. I

guess I pushed you a little too hard, didn't I? Well, I'm sorry about that."

"I'm sorry, too. It was my fault."

The pair shared a moment of silence, accepting the apologies without

uttering another word. Crunching and popping sounds echoed from the

basement as John cut into Emiko's body, but the afternoon was relatively

tranquil.

Breaking the silence, Ethan said, "I'm scared, mom. I feel so alone, like

I've been abandoned by everyone. I'm afraid I'll never find true love without

Emiko. God, I loved her so much."

"There are plenty of fish in the sea, Ethan."

"But there was only one Emiko."

"Believe me, you'll find someone better. You just have to keep your eyes

open. You're an amazing boy, Ethan, and someone's going to be very lucky

when they meet you," Brooke said. She glanced over at the basement door,

concerned. She said, "You have to stay free, though. This is going to be just like those other times, darling. The police are going to ask questions... if

they haven't already."

"They haven't."

"Good. You know the drill, right?"

Ethan sighed and nodded, disappointed. He had been in the same

situation before. His father could clean a crime scene, but he couldn't erase

memories. Witnesses, like Burt and Charles, would surely link him to

Emiko's disappearance.

Brooke asked, "What do you say if the police ask you any questions?"

"Nothing," Ethan responded. "I say nothing. I invoke my right to remain

silent. I ask for a lawyer if they want to ask questions and I ask for a

warrant if they want to look around. Regardless, I never answer any of their

questions."

"That's very good. You know, most people end up in prison because they

self-incriminate themselves. Prosecutors, detectives... They'll twist your

words, even if you did nothing wrong. It's better for you to remain quiet the

entire time. That is, if anything happens at all."

Ethan asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

"It depends on who you ask. I think you're just misunderstood. Try not to

think about it too much. We're cleaning everything up. As soon as we push

through this, you can move on and start looking for a new mate. Then, you

can bring me my first grand-baby."

Ethan vacantly stared at the wall above the television. He thought about

Emiko's death, he brooded over Mirai's unfortunate passing. He couldn't see

a bright future, but there was a glimmer of hope in the darkness. I'll find

someone who understands me, he thought, even if it takes me until the day I

die. He was disheartened, but he would survive.