Chapter 2

Before I could get a better look, a hand grabbed me by the back of the collar.

My grandfather barked, "What are you doing poking your nose into this? Go home!"

He sent me back home, saying there was still plenty to do before the funeral could begin.

Before leaving, he secured the door with two heavy padlocks. Through the crack, he warned me to stay put and not wander off.

I pouted and sat in the yard, playing in the dirt.

The sky was overcast that day. I built a little sandcastle and, out of childish mischief, peed right in the middle of it.

A cold gust of wind swept through the yard, and I hurriedly pulled up my pants.

Then I turned around.

A head was peeking over the wall.

His eyes curved into crescents, his lips stretched into a grin that exposed rows of fine, unnaturally white teeth.

For some reason, he didn't look human to me.

He looked like a lamb.

The man leaning over the wall was Daniel.

He smiled and called out, "Your grandpa's busy. Why don't you come over for a bit? I'll make you a lamb's head."

I jerked my chin toward the locked door.

"Grandpa said I'm not allowed to go out."

Daniel only smiled.

Daniel just grinned. "I never listened to my dad either and still ended up at the top of my class."

I wasn't buying it.

"Everybody knows you dropped out of school and ran off to work. Mr. Lee Sr. chased you halfway across town with a belt."

Daniel didn't get angry.

The grin never left his face.

"So, are you coming or not?"

In the end, I went.

I couldn't help it.

Most of my grandfather's money was sent to my parents in the city, and what remained went toward my schooling. Meat was a rare treat in our house.

I was still growing, and the temptation was too much.

Before I knew it, I was sitting in the drafty living room of Daniel's house.

His eyes seemed unusually wide as he fussed over me.

"Sit tight. Just give me a minute. The lamb's head will be ready soon."

I waited.

Before long, the smell of roasting lamb drifted through the gaps in the walls.

It was hot and fresh.

A whole lamb's head, made just for me.

My mouth watered.

Like I was in a trance, I slid off my chair and headed toward the kitchen out back.

My grandfather always said Daniel's family was poor.

Now I could see it for myself.

Even the kitchen door was broken, with a large section missing from the bottom corner.

The room beyond was dimly lit.

As I got closer, I spotted a rust-covered metal basin filled with water.

Floating inside were thick strands of long, black hair.

At least, they looked like hair.

Daniel raised his cleaver and brought it down with a wet slice.

Something had been cut.

I heard the sound of liquid running.

A moment later, a thick red stream seeped beneath the kitchen door and crawled across the dirt floor until it reached my feet.

I didn't understand much back then, but I recognized the smell of blood.

Something was terribly wrong.

However, my feet felt rooted to the ground.

I was too frightened to run.

Then came the heavy thud of a butcher's cleaver striking a chopping block again and again.

Each blow echoed through the kitchen.

I was still clutching a handful of dirt.

It slipped through my fingers and pattered onto the ground.

The sound was tiny.

But somehow Daniel heard it.

Because the chopping stopped at once.

The door creaked open.

Daniel stood there with a butcher's cleaver in his hand. The blade was chipped and uneven, nicked from years of use.

Behind him, a lamb's head sat steaming in a pot with its back turned toward me.

Through the haze of steam, I could still make out patches of black wool that hadn't been properly cleaned away.

I forced a smile.

"Black lamb's expensive, Daniel. You're treating me to the good stuff."

Specks of blood dotted Daniel's face.

His hands and cleaver were covered in it.

Even his clothes looked soaked in dark red stains.

At my words, he broke into a grin.

"My dad always loved lamb's head. He was always saving it for another day instead of eating it himself. Now he's finally getting his fill, and he's happier than he's ever been."

He held the cleaver in one hand and grabbed my wrist with the other, stopping me from backing away.

"Come on. I'll take you to see him. He's enjoying some fine black lamb's head right now."

With that, he dragged me toward a closed door.

Several strings of old coins and tiny bells hung on either side of the frame.

A foul odor seeped from inside.

It smelled like meat left too long in the summer heat, rotten and sour.

If I listened closely, I could hear faint chewing sounds.

Tiny crunches and grinding noises, like brittle bones being crushed between teeth.

Daniel reached for the doorknob.

"Come on. Have some more. It’s the finest black lamb's head you'll ever taste."