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You are what you eat	By : LilyRose Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 1626 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-You are what you eat
- 1
Disclaimer:Rammstein and “Mein Teil” unfortunately do not belong to me.Fortunately though,this is a complete work of fiction.
A.n. This piece of nastiness was inspired (obviously)by the cannibalistic theme of “Mein Teil.”I wrote it with Till and Richard in mind,but actually it could be any other pairing.
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Could I help it?Had there ever been a choice for me?Can I even be blamed,I wonder sometimes.Would anyone have turned down what I´d been offered?Of course I`ll be condemned by society,for being a monster,an animal,for wanting to devour my own kind.But I know that much of their dismay and terror at what I did has nothing to do with ethics or compassion or even decency,no it `s simply the fear of the possibility of suddenly becoming prey themselves.As a matter of fact,most people actually find a certain amount of cruelty quite acceptable as long as it does not concern them personally.
Of course they don`t care why or how I did what I did,why would they?They don`t care if I hurt him or whether he wanted it,what bothers them is simply that I also might have done it to *them*,or so they think.But they couldn`t be any more wrong.I would *never* have gone and “butchered,”as they call it,some random “innocent”.It hadn`t been about the gratification of some perverted obsession or about enjoying breaking one of the last existing taboos,it didn`t even have anything to do with the need to eat,because simple hunger could have been satisfied with something far less exquisite.It had been the ultimate union,the most complete way of becoming one.Something that had been desired by both of us.
It had not been my decision that I should be the one to live,no,I would have gladly let him peel my skin off in strips,and wiped my own blood from his lips after he`d have finished his meal.But that wasn`t what he wanted,he wanted to be worshipped,he wanted somebody who would carry the wonder of owning him completely with him for the rest of his days.He had chosen me,of all men,to be that somebody,I never really understood what made me deserving of such a gift in his eyes.He had been all I ever wanted,I had secretly feasted my eyes on him for a long time without ever allowing myself to hope for more.I never thought he could possibly want me.But he did.
But I had never once looked upon him with the cold,calculating gaze of a butcher as I´m sure people would think if they knew.The thought of destroying this beauty had never occurred to me,never occurred to me even when he was leaning against my chest with my arms wrapped around him and we both watched that dark pool of blood spread around us.I didn`t kill him because I wanted him dead or enjoyed seeing him in pain,I did it because nothing else could have brought us closer together.
I don`t deny I was hungry for him,I was,very much so,but I know I wasn`t the only one.What did all those screaming girls,all those groupies want if not to possess a part of him in some way?Wasn`t there always the slightest hint of cannibalistic appetite in their eyes?Inspired by his smooth skin,his firm muscles and piercing eyes.Didn`t his whole body invite to taste,lick and bite?And didn`t he deliberately tease them with it,didn`t he enjoy making them hunger for him,knowing that most of them would never even get a taste?
I`m aware that to an outsider,this would sound like the vain attempts of a murderer to blame the victim for what he did,but nobody seems to understand that he never was a victim because there never was a crime.He´d said so himself,he *wanted* me to do it.They don`t understand that he never would have allowed me or anyone else to victimize him.I know that what I did *did* hurt him physically,I can still see him looking at me,his face tense with pain but his eyes glimmering with excitement,but I also know that denying him what he wanted would have hurt him so much more.
“You will know me like no other,”he`d said and kissed me before handing me the knife.A promise that was impossible to break because it could only be made once.I told him I would not do this for anyone else but him,and he smiled and nodded,”I know.”
He´d stood before me,looking at me with an expression I to this day find hard to describe,there seemed to be no fear in him,none.He was about to die and he just wasn´t afraid.My entire life I had always been afraid of *something,*and here he was looking at me, almost ecstatic at the knowledge that he was going to die by my hand.If it had been possible,I would have loved him even more then.
“Do it,”he`d whispered,his lips brushing my ear,his arms wrapped around my neck.And I did it,I took one of his hands and kissed the soft skin of his wrist before drawing the blade across it .He`d told me not to cut too deeply at first or it would be over too soon.We both gasped as his skin so easily parted and a gentle,hot gush of blood covered our hands.I hadn`t imagined blood to be so surprisingly hot.I have to admit I was a bit frightened,but he just stared at his arm in fascination for a few moments,watching the first fat,red drops fall to the floor before he looked up at me again.”Go on.”
I opened his shirt and kissed his chest everywhere the knife was to follow.I will always remember the taste of his skin and the feeling of cutting through it and the small gasping noises he made every time the blade made a new gash.Occasionally he reached out to stroke my hair or my face with his bloody hands,telling me how much he loved me over and over again.Sometimes I could hear him gritt his teeth in pain,a small clicking noise,as if he was crushing pieces of delicate china with his teeth.The cuts became deeper then and I felt the blade strike his ribs a couple of times.He was beginning to look more and more like one of those statues of saints that were riddled with arrows,pale and bleeding from many wounds.
Even if my life depended on it,I couldn`t describe exactly what I felt seeing him surrender himself to me like that,that feeling of gratitude,tenderness and love and knowing I could never ever thank him for this incredible gift he was bestowing upon me.The blood loss soon made him dizzy and we sat down on the ground together,he shrugged off the remnants of his blood-soaked shirt,and I pulled him against my chest and wrapped my arms around him.I knew his lungs had probably been punctured as his breathing was now accompanied by a strange wet sound,and blood had begun to trickle from a corner of his mouth.But still he smiled as he slowly turned his head to kiss me.
The colour drained more and more from his face until he was as waxen as a corpse and I knew he wouldn`t be able to hang on very much longer.”I `ll never know why you chose me,”I told him.I knew I wasn`t really worthy of him,no one was.He stroked my hands that were clasped in front of his chest with his ice-cold fingers,and whispered,”Because you deserve it.” Then he took my hand that was still holding the knife,and placed it over his heart,he wanted me to end it,it was his decision.He threaded his fingers through mine and turned to meet my eyes,”Now,”was all he said.I remember kissing him one last time before I plunged the knife into his chest.His body shuddered in my arms for a few seconds as if he was cold and I heard him breathe a sigh,not some kind of tortured “death rattle,” but as someone would who was about to fall asleep and then his head just lolled to the side and it was over.He looked strangely relaxed,as if he`d just fallen asleep in front of the tv,if it hadn`t been for his blood-soaked clothes and the knife protruding from his chest,he wouldn`t have looked dead at all,but dead he was.It took a few moments before it really hit me.I believe then was one he fhe few times I actually cried.I don`t think I`d ever felt so alone before.
This had been the only moment I felt I had committed a crime,but not by killing him but by *separating* us.I couldn´t stand it,I *had * to be reunited with him.I had to.We had talked about what I would have to do then.I used only the knife he`d given me,nothing else.The public would probably be disappointed at the lack of chainsaws and axes.It never had been a crude hacking to pieces as I`m sure many people will imagine or maybe even wish in their secret lust for gore.I used the blade only where my blunt teeth failed,wishing I was a lion and wouldn`t need it at all,wishing I could swallow him whole,but I couldn`t,so I *had* to use the knife.
I wasn`t a perverted gourmet preparing an exotic dish,I was simply trying to absorb his entire essence the only way I could.I know many so called modern day cannibals fried or cooked parts of those unfortunate strangers they`d lured into their houses with promises of alcohol,sex or shelter,but that would have been unthinkable to me.The thought alone sickened me.Although I did eat his body I never looked upon him as food,never.Even dead he was still the man I loved.The feeling of taking that first bite was so incredible,tears were streaming down my face.That crushing sensation of loneliness that had come over me the moment he`d died left me immediately,but that was only the beginning.With every piece I swallowed his beloved presence came back to me,but so much stronger than it had ever been before,I could feel our minds melt together,us becoming one in ways I´d never thought possible.It was far more than just love or sex,it was him becoming a part of me.
It took me almost a week until all that was physically left of him were clean,white bones.The pagan priests were right,you know,a man`s strength is in his flesh and blood,and his bones were now nothing more than the empty cocoon of a butterfly.But still,I buried them in a flower bed full of blood-red roses,somehow that seemed fitting to me.I could hear him inside my head,chuckling,calling me”Rosenkavalier.”Yes,he was in my head now,shared every single one of my thoughts and feelings just like I shared all of his.He talks to me when I`m awake and he shares my dreams when I sleep,keeping me safe from nightmares.Although I was happier than I`d ever thought possible,I didn`t delude myself I was going to get away with what in the eyes of the law was still a crime,but that didn`t matter,after all all they could do was lock me up,they could cut me off from the world but they would *never* be able to separate me from him.
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You are what you eat