The centre of the wound was moist and raw, and there was a crust of dried blood at the edges. I could not stop looking at that crust, and as I smelled the faint blood-scent in the air, I felt my appetite rising. Then I looked up and met the gaze of other boys who had also been staring at the wound. In shame, we read each other’s thoughts and quickly glanced away, but for me, something had happened that I couldn’t deny: I had looked at human flesh and instinctively recognised it as food. Once that door had been opened, it couldn’t be closed, and from that moment on my mind was never far from
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