Under_score

(It may be written in first person, but I assure this, this is NOT a tale of personal experience, thank the lord...) - AH

I haven't been to many five star restaurants, in fact, this is my first one. 

I'm walking with my partner, we're actually going on a date for the first time in almost a year. Sometimes, work just gets too much and you lose yourself in it, we decided it was time to enjoy our evening for once.

Dressed to the nines, we walked in hoping our false confidence made us fit in, and not seem like the middle class citizens who had to save up to eat here that we were. A smart young waiter smiled at us, complimented our appearances and lead us to a quiet table in the corner. We had a nice view of the bar, all black marble and polished to perfection. The giant chandeliers illuminated the room with a warm and homely glow, the atmosphere itself made us smile, it seemed like such a perfect place to spend a well deserved evening of rest. 

We were brough the menus and a complimentary bottle of champagne and breadsticks. Already I was begginning to see myself here frequently. I smiled at my partner and liked the shine in his eyes that told me he was feeling the same. Within ten minutes of searching the menu for a vaguely familiar dish, we decided on the same thing. Steak, well done, with a jack daniels sauce and side of salad. 

We ordered quickly, and with a breif warning from the waiter ("We have a new meat chef in this evening, he comes with high recommendations, but, if you've eaten here before, don't be alarmed if the meat tastes different from what you remember. He's known for his experimentations.") This 'warning' didn't put us of at all, for first time customers, we were more than a little excited to taste anything they had to offer.

The champagne had made us a tad tipsy, soon after we ordered, we were giggling and laughing and talking about anything and everything. It matched the atmosphere around us, it was easy to see how people were so relaxed here. Our stomachs were rumbling, and before we even saw our meal, the smell filtered across the restaurant and my mouth watered. I looked over to our waiter, carrying enormous plates. The slab of well done steak was huge and smothered in sauce and herbs, it filled my stomach just looking at it! The waiter placed the dishes down before us and with a quick thank you, we attacked it with such vigour and hunger that I feared - for only a moment, my head didn't have room for worry when this marvellous food was in front of me - that we would damage the posh plates. 

I'd demolished half of the steak when my stomach churned. I'd eaten so fast, the taste hadn't really had time to register. Yes, the waiter was right, this chef really did like to experiment. I'd had steak before, numerous times. This didn't taste like what I was used to at all. It was nice, incredible! But it wasn't... steak. I made up my mind to finish my meal and ask for the recipe so I could try it out myself and see if I came up with a result as mouth wateringly pleasant as this was. 

My partner finished before I did, smacking their lips appreciatively, they smiled at me and waited in silence as I finished my last few bites. Even the salad was done to a crisp sweet perfection. We discussed the fantastic meals as our food settled. I told them of my plan to get the recipe and they agreed whole heartedly. As a rather good cook myself, I felt like I could tackle it well.

We summoned the waiter over for the bill, and I took this oppurtunity to leave my seat and head for the kitchen door. I thought that going in person would mean a lot more to this new chef, who probably hadn't had many compliments and requests yet. The door didn't even say 'Staff Only' so I took that as meaning 'Welcome all!'

The restaurant itself was a nice temperature, not too hot or cold, but the kitchen was stifling. How a door so easy to open and so thin kept this much heat at bay was alarming, already I felt beads of perspiration on my forehead. I asked someone at the garnish station to direct me to the meat chef, he was genourous enough to lead me there himself. The meat station was furthest away from everything else, tucked away in a corner near the large freezer at the back of the kitchen. 

The meat chef was a large man, I'd peg him around 6'4". He was wearing the traditional all white ensamble with a red apron. Nearly all of him was smeared with blood. This gave him a threatening appearance, but at the same time, it meant all the produce was fresh. I cleared my throat to gain his attention and with a smile in my direction, he placed his cleaver on the counter top and walked towards me. We spoke about the steak and the recipie, but he wouldn' tell me what he'd done. "I can show you instead, I'm about to prepare some more, for another order. If you're interested, I can let you watch? You'd be surprised how much good a particpant can do to a dish like this."

Stupidly.... I obliged... 

At the time it seemed like such a good idea... I was so willing, so desperate to acheive the culinary skills I wanted, so trusting... but then again, who, in my position, wouldn't be willing to be taught a lesson by a head chef? Who wouldn't? 

It was nothing like what I'd hoped. I'd hoped for a quick and somewhat complex recipie to watch and write down. Instead, I found myself participating in a way I'd only seen in slasher movies. 

He lead me into the freezer, to get the meat he said. I guess he wasn't really lying. Just witholding the biggest of truths. We passed the boxes of cold salads and ice creams and walked through a small door at the very back. I was freezing, I only hoped the abbatoir would be warmer. 

My second mistake of the evening. I should never have followed him through that door. It wasn't a room with dead animals hanging from meat hooks, it was very similar though...

There were meat hooks. Instead of pigs and sheep, hung people. Alive, bleeding, tortured people. I screamed and span round, but something large, heavy and silver thwacked me in the side of the head. I dropped. 

When I awoke, my shoulder blades were burning and my stomach was heaving. I vomited blood and bile, almost none of it hit the floor. I found I was suspended by hooks from the cieling, they peirced through my flesh and tore at my muscle, I opened my mouth to scream, the agony was unendurable, there was nothing like this on the planet, no pain like this anywhere in the world. No sound escaped my lips. Confused and crying, I looked to the meat chef. He was sharpening a large curved breaking knife and humming along to 'Tiptoe through the tulips' which was playing on a radio somewhere in the room. 

"I'm so glad you enjoyed your meal, It was prepared with the utmost care and preparation." He stood from a stool he was sat on and walked over to a body hanging limp and unconcious next to mine. It was naked and I hadn't looked at it before for fear of throwing up again. But now, as I took this glance, I tried to scream again. My partner, suspended in the same way I was, covered in blood and bile hung next to me. "No use screaming, I severed your vocal cords. I don't want you alerting anyone. You're bleeding internally due to it though, sorry, I'll have to make your death quite quick to make sure you don't die before I'm done with you." 

He ran his forefinger along his blade before quickly gutting my partner. Organs, blood, and rolls of hot intestine fell out. Their head jerked up and the first note of a blood curdling scream was released before the meat man slit his throat. I momentarily struggled against my silence and my chains, but the agony nearly made me black out so I stopped quickly. I was helpless as the meat man hacked out my partners heart. Steam rose from the bloody mess pooling at our feet and the smell made me gag. As the killer walked through puddles of blood, holding the warm heart of my now dead lover, I feared for my life. I feared before, but now it was real. I watched this man whom I trusted and admired murder my love, cut out their heart and step through the bloody mess he'd made. He rang a bell, and the waiter who'd served me walked through the door, looking as smart as ever. They smiled at me.

"Take this heart to the kitchen, my station. An order was made for stuffed pigs heart. Let's see if they can tell the difference." The waiter left with the heart in a tray and the door slammed shut behind him. The meat man went back to sharpening his knives. "You're next, you know. Watching me kill your lover, was that enough to make your blood pump I wonder? Shall we see?"

Safe to say, I blacked out for the rest of my torture. I remember the knife, cold, slicing into my veins at my arms, my thighs, my groin... I remember my blood spilling out along with my silent screams... I remember the way he stabbed a small hole in my abdomen, and procedded to pull out my intestines and make me watch... He said he'd make sausages with them...

The smell, sight and pain made me vomit and faint more than once. He stuffed my organs back in once he had taken enough from me and ripped me harshly of the meat hooks. Pain. I remember twitching in pain, being dragged across the red stained floor. The feet of the dead smacked into me and vomit, organs and blood stuck to my skin. He threw me out into a dumpster, covered me with boxes and left me for dead. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, the pain was too much... the pain IS too much... I can only hope someone will find me soon. I don't have long left. Minutes, if that.

A word of advice, when trying a new restaurant for the first time... Don't order the steak.