The sound of chewing and wet lips smacking woke me from my sleep. I sat up from my cot and rubbed the blur from my eyes. The other boys were hunched in the corner over a meal like a pack of lions. Edward peeked over the shoulders of the pride, “Jacob, do you want some?” He whispered as blood trickled down his chin.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Michael.”

“Ah, that’s a shame, he was a good kid.”

“Yeah… but he wouldn’t eat the meat. There’s not much to him, mostly organs. No fat.”

Michael really was a good kid, he tried to work hard to appease the master, but he wouldn’t eat the meat. When one of us died in the night from either sickness, heat exhaustion or otherwise, we couldn’t let the meat go to waste.

“Is there any liver left?” It was my favorite.

Shamus turned to the side and tossed me the other half of Michael’s liver. It had plenty of teeth marks, but it would do. I wolfed down thick chunks of it as fast as I could, it had been at least two weeks since we’ve had any meat. The master only fed us one scoop of oats a day, it wasn’t enough to survive on. We used to get more oats, sometimes even an apple, but after a few boys tried to escape the farm last spring the master limited our rations. We did what we had to do to survive, the meat was a gift.

My belly was full, a feeling you never knew was so amazing until you were starving. I had just rolled back over to get a little more sleep before work began when I heard sirens. At first far away, but then closer and closer. We all jumped up, could it be?

I heard shouting, the roar of a bullhorn, then shooting. Gun fire erupted from upstairs for a moment, then silence. Footsteps… then a rumble at the basement door. We watched as the frame shook from the force until it was kicked open. Men in helmets and body armor flooded the room. A couple of them gagged at the smell, and one retched on the floor after seeing Michael.

A man in a suit approached me and went to one knee, placing an arm on my shoulder. “It’s alright son, you’re safe now.” I broke down and wept in his arms as he carried me to an ambulance outside.

I spent the rest of my teenage years in a foster home, but I didn’t mind, it was much better than the master’s basement. My life is great, I have an apartment, a goldfish and even a girlfriend. I work in a kitchen and aspire to become a chef. Or maybe a butcher. I always like to be near the meat… the meat is a gift.