Hungerstone

by Kat Dunn

“I wonder for what you hunger, and whether you allow yourself to feel it.”

If the world offers me no kindness, then I will take from it armor and sword, create an unassailable fortress for myself, and lock the door.

It is as though reality has been put together badly, and the rules by which I know the world to operate are losing their power.

The only solid thing is my body and the sensation of fullness like ballast against a storm.

There is one way in which Carmilla is right: I am hungry.

“Your pain was so loud it was a beacon that called me. I found you so easily.”

“I am a mirror to those who need it. To those who hunger but deny themselves.”

The hunger in her eyes is the truest compliment I have ever received.

“Oh, little Lenore. It is terrible to be alive. But it is worse to be dead to ourselves.”

A heroine, a wicked plot against her, a standard villain, a moral lesson.

Darling. Aren’t you magnificent? You know now. Enjoy. I’ll see you soon.

Henry does not trust me. Henry has been keeping secrets from me.

Henry wants me dead.

Can no one think for themselves? It is quite maddening. I am in a house full of adults and not a single thing would get done if I did not urge it into being.

They have all lost their shine. Did I want any of this? No. Why is this mine to deal with? Why have I worked myself tirelessly for someone who would rather have me dead?

So why have I tried so hard to create it? All I have made is a prison.

But perhaps if I have never been safe, that means fear has no purpose. I am not safe if I obey and reduce and control, just as I am not safe if I rebel and shout and anger.

“Ask Mr. Crowther. This is his stage. Let him choose the dressing.”

The realization is maddening. All around me is Nethershaw, my marriage, the cold corpse of a life spent murdering myself.

Carmilla smiles, extends her hand to me. “Come, my dear. You must be so terribly hungry.”