Chapter 5
Edward Quan ·
“The police later found her husband's body in the bedroom. She'd walled him up inside it. For over twenty years she'd slept facing that wall, as though he'd never left.”
“As far as I know, the officers who worked the case were seasoned detectives, men who'd spent half their lives on the job. Before long, every one of them had left frontline work. It took lengthy counseling before they could even begin to recover.”
Officer Zhang was completely stunned.
Eventually he found the classic response.
“Fuck.”
15
Sausage looked at Wang Ba, sprawled on the floor.
Her icy expression thawed. Her eyes softened with tenderness.
She called gently, “Son? Is that you?”
Wang Ba didn't dare answer.
She hurried over and threw her arms around him.
“My son! You've finally come back! I thought I'd never find you!”
Tears fell, one after another.
Her slender body trembled like a candle in a storm.
Perhaps he wanted someone to shelter behind—a woman he didn't have to fear.
Or perhaps her genuine emotion convinced him he'd found an opportunity.
Either way, Wang Ba shamelessly accepted the role. He hugged her tight and claimed her as his mother.
Even then, his one unbroken hand began to wander.
I was so angry I laughed.
This bastard would probably only behave himself once he was hanging on a wall.
16
Sausage wiped her tears and stroked his head.
“Come, let Mother look at you... You've put on weight, but you're shorter. Uglier, too... And your arm is broken.”
Overcome by “love for her son,” she hugged him again and sobbed.
“My poor boy! You've suffered out there!”
At last Wang Ba had found somewhere to pour out his feelings.
“They've all been bullying me!”
The two held each other and cried for a long time.
I felt that plain crying lacked atmosphere, so I turned on the speakers and played Sausage's favorite song: a sentimental number about a mother's love and the happiness of being held in her arms.
The gentle melody made our counterfeit mother and son seem more devoted than ever.
“Come here, son.”
Sausage took Wang Ba's hand and led him into the kitchen.
“Mother's made all your favorite food.”
Several dishes stood on the table, each covered.
He couldn't see what was inside, but the elegant tableware suggested a meal of some distinction.
After a day of torment, he was ravenous. He reached for the food at once.
“Hands!”
Sausage stopped him.
“Eating without washing first!”
She pulled him over to the sink.
“What did Mother teach you? Illness enters through the mouth. We must wash our hands properly!”
She held his plump hand in one of hers.
In the other was a peeler.
Wang Ba immediately realized something was wrong.
But in his condition, what strength did he have left to struggle?
He opened his mouth to scream. All he could do was watch the cold blade approach.
“First, the backs. Dirt gets trapped so easily around the knuckles.”
Her voice was gentle.
The peeler stripped the skin from the back of his hand.
“Oh, your knuckles are filthy!”
They received particular attention.
Tendons were scraped to shreds. Blood turned the sink red.
Wang Ba screamed so loudly that I had to turn down the volume to protect my hearing.
Even Xiaomei, upstairs on the third floor, was disturbed. She rolled over, clamped a pillow over her ears, and went back to sleep.
When both hands had been “washed,” Wang Ba had no skin left on them.
In its place was a very distinctive pattern of red and white.
Red flesh.
White bone.
Everything clearly exposed.
A pity, I thought.
She might as well have washed his face while she was at it.
The man had no shame to lose anyway.
Sausage finally noticed something was wrong.
“What's the matter?” she asked, distressed. “Did Mother hurt you?”
Wang Ba had been reduced to a walking corpse. He had nothing left with which to think.
He simply stared at her, motionless.
“Oh, you're bleeding.”
She lifted his hand and put it to her mouth.
“It's all Mother's fault.”
Then—
Crunch.
She bit off part of his little finger.
Before his eyes, she chewed it and swallowed.
Wang Ba froze.
He looked down at his hand.
Up at her bloody mouth.
At his hand.
At her.
Again. And again.
He laughed, then cried.
He seemed to have lost all sense of where he was, or even what day it was.
“Don't run away again.”
Sausage stroked his face. Her smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Or Mother will eat you.”
At that moment, the song returned to its refrain about a child being Mother's precious treasure.
Black comedy in its purest form.
She led the rigid, puppetlike Wang Ba to the table.
At last, the mystery of the meal was revealed.
The dishes contained feces and live rats.
“Eat. It's all your favorite food.”
Sausage seized a fat, squealing rat and pulled sharply.
Its head came off.
She put the head on Wang Ba's plate.
“Try some.”
The animal wasn't quite dead. Its red eyes stared at him; its mouth still moved in a squeak.
Wang Ba retched and emptied his stomach.
“Eat! Why aren't you eating?”
Sausage sounded puzzled.
“Don't you like it?”
She grew anxious.
“You don't like Mother's cooking anymore, do you?”
Then angry.
“That bitch has stolen your stomach! You're just like your father. Neither of you is any good!”
Her fury erupted.
“Eat! I'll kill you if you don't!”
She picked up a cleaver and slammed it into the table.
“EAT!”
Wang Ba no longer dared resist.
He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, picked up the rat's head, and began to gnaw.
Chewing. Vomiting.
Stomach fluid dripped between his fingers.
“Good boy. Mother's good boy.”
Weeping with joy, Sausage wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Such a precious, good boy.”
Moved by this display of “maternal affection,” I changed the music to another song urging a child to listen to his mother and spare her pain.
Suddenly Wang Ba's head dropped onto the table.
His entire body went rigid. Only his eyes could move.
The food had been drugged.
“Mother loves you so much. I can't lose you again.”
Sausage produced a syringe and expelled the air.
“There's glue in here. I'll preserve you as a specimen, so you can stay with Mother forever. How does that sound, my precious boy?”
“Oh, shit!”
I sprang up and ran for the door.
Before leaving, I remembered one important task I hadn't finished.
“Officer Zhang, don't you think we're full of talented people? Such pleasant conversationalists, too. It's impossible not to love it here.”
The corner of Officer Zhang's mouth twitched.
“You're still joking at a time like this?”