Poem: Cindy (warning gory content)

Cindy

The house was always dirty. Not just disorganized, but dirty
Covered in dirt. Filthy, grimy, disgusting.
Piles of dirty plates, heaps of dirty clothes
And that unforgettable rotten smell,

I try to avoid coming here.
She told me she would only be a moment.
She apologized then disappeared into her bathroom.
I hear her shower running.
I sit on the edge of the couch
Her mother appears from wherever she spends her time
Then she starts talking to me.
Shit.

I try to smile at the right spots and nod at the right spots.
Then it happens again.
She asks me if I want a glass of water.
I try not responding, hoping that she will just go on.
She doesn’t
I have tried saying no in the past.
That only gets me the stare.
And more uncomfortable silence,
Until I eventually give in.
So I say yes.

She gets up to find another glass in the kitchen,
I can hear her fumbling in the cupboard
At least the glasses are clean this time
Then the sink goes on, I hear the glass fill up
She walks back and sits it on the table in front of me
There are now eighteen water glasses there
“Want some water?” never sounded so ominous as when Cindy’s mom said it.

Then my rescuer appears.
If she wasn’t so sweet I would never put up with this.
Cindy grabs her coat, says goodbye to her mom,
I don’t know if she even notices
We leave.

A few weeks later it is late when I go to drop Cindy off at home
I walk her to the door
It’s been cold but dry, no snow
The icy chill is sucking away the warmth as soon as we step out of the car.

The house is dark when we open the door.
Its even hotter in here than it was in the car.
It smells worse,
It smells wrong
We both see the blood at the same time.
It’s been there a while, it looks dry but it reeks
We both lean in towards each other.
It was a lot of blood.
We follow the trail into the kitchen
There is more blood here
And meat.

Cindy’s mom had one of those old fashion meat grinders build into one of the counters.

The smell is overpowering.
I want to leave.
I grab Cindy’s hand
Both our hands are slick with sweat.

She opens up the freezer. Its full of grocery bags dripping red.
It is in the cupboard that we eventually find Richie’s head.
Her dog.
Her mom had killed her dog and ground him up into meat.

The police took her mom away that night.
I guess she really was going crazy.
Cindy stayed with her aunt.
She never went back to that house.
Neither did I.