text: I woke with a start to see my boyfriend, Jamie, aiming a shotgun at my head. “DON’T FUCKING MOVE!” he screamed at me. I’d only just woken up and this scenario was pretty unusual, so I hadn't really planned on moving just yet. I was still trying to gather data on my surroundings to work out what the fuck was going on. Jamie had stopped yelling and seemed to be sobbing. His face was all red and blotchy and wet. I’d never seen him like this before, but I made a note that it was not a particularly attractive look on him. I briefly wondered why I was considering his attractiveness at this moment in time and then returned to the primary task at hand; dealing with the sudden shitshow unfolding in my bedroom. As I went to adjust myself and start trying to reason with my newly psychotic boyfriend, I realised that I was sitting up, which meant that I must have fallen asleep, in bed, in a seated position. This seemed a bit weird, but given the other things going on around me I decided to park this oddity and come back to it later. I really needed to focus on the important things. “Jamie” I said, in what I hoped was a calming tone. I wasn’t really sure what tone of voice I should go for, since I had never encountered a scenario like this before, but calming seemed like a good option. “Please!” He half shouted half sobbed in my direction, shotgun still aimed squarely at my forehead. A smell wafted by my nose and I realised that I was hungry. Starving, in fact. Had I missed dinner last night? Focus. “Jamie” I tried again, in my soothing tones. Christ, I really was hungry. That smell was making my mouth water and I could almost feel my jaw trembling at the thought of eating. “Please” he whimpered “Please, don’t come any closer. You’re.. You’re not yourself. Please, just stay there.” Not myself? What the fuck? I’m not the one pointing a shotgun at my life partner! I decided not to raise this point with him right now, given his current state, and persisted with plan A; getting him to calm the fuck down. I was starting to get pretty agitated too as I was now fully awake and had been awake long enough to properly understand the severity of the situation. If things didn’t start to change in the next couple of minutes, there was every chance my gentle, caring, loving boyfriend was going to become a crazed, psychotic, murderous boyfriend and we would be making headlines for all of the wrong reasons. But my god I was hungry. That smell! It was so distracting! It made my jaw ache and my stomach felt like it might implode if I didn’t eat soon. “Jamie” I tried again, raising my arm, palm forwards in what I hoped was a kind of non-threatening “it’s okay’ motion. BANG! I felt something graze my shoulder. He’d fucking shot me! Fucking crazy bastard. This filled me with an almost uncontrollable rage. I mean, he was clearly unwell, but to SHOOT me?! This situation was getting out of hand very quickly. Drastic action was required and I needed to formulate a plan B, quickly. Jamie’s sobbing/whimpering had grown louder and he was now making the sound of a hysterical child crossed with a wounded animal. It was the kind of noise I didn’t really think humans were capable of. I suppose it was the kind of noise you *hope* humans aren’t capable of. The kind of noise that alerts you to a deep-rooted, animalistic distress, and signifies the absence of any rational thinking. “Please” he kept saying “Please, I don’t want to, I can’t...” What the fuck was he on about? I looked down at my right shoulder to assess the damage the shotgun had done but I had to do a double take. A huge chunk was missing from my bicep. Christ, could shotguns do that? It felt like he’d grazed my shoulder but apparently he’d taken off half my upper arm. The wound was all jagged and torn, it kind of looked like I’d be bitten by a rabid dog or something. I could see the bone and bits of muscle and flesh hanging off and for a moment, I was weirdly intrigued by the anatomy of my arm. It then occurred to me that it didn’t hurt. I was struggling to formulate a plan B as by now there were a lot of things about this scene that weren’t quite adding up. But with the overwhelming issue of my boyfriend firing a shotgun at me I was finding it quite hard to piece together the full jigsaw in my mind. And I was so hungry! It was getting really quite difficult to focus with this overwhelming hunger consuming my body. I don’t know what it feels like to suffocate, but I would imagine that the longer you go without air, the more and more the thought of breathing takes over your mind, until it’s the only thing you can think about. All other thoughts leave you and the only thing you can concentrate on is taking a breath as your whole body fights to fill your lungs with air. Well, that’s what this hunger felt like. Jamie was still sobbing somewhere in the background of my thoughts but that smell, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was so delicious. I wasn’t just hungry, I *needed* to eat. I needed to taste that salty smell on my lips. I needed it like... I don’t even know. Like a fish needs water, like a plant needs sunshine. Neither of those come close, I needed to eat like it was a compulsion. There was nothing else I could do at this moment, but eat. I looked up at Jamie, the shotgun still aimed at my head, and tears streaking down his face. Oh. My. God. He smelled delicious. I could smell the sweat dripping off him and his tears rolling down his face. I could smell his fear, and his panic. And I wanted to taste it. “Please” I heard him whimper. I lunged at him, I needed to satisfy my hunger.