Dont eat the meat: A short story

This little flash fiction is from a first sentence starter. The sentence was: ‘Someone must have seen him, because the police were at his door.’

Someone must have seen him, because the police were at his door.
I knew who and what he was. I kept it to myself though. And I never ate anything he brought over to me. Not the meat, anyway.
Like I said, I knew who and what he was. But he was kind to me. He looked in on me, brought me things, even came by to see if I needed things when he went grocery shopping. He took my garbage can to the curb every Monday morning, and brought it back around to the back door every Monday evening. He was good to me. I couldn’t get up and around like I used too.
He was an evil man though, most would agree. However, how could someone so vile be so kind to an old thing like me? He had no plans to harm me in any way…he even came right out and said it.
We had a discussion one time about the things he did and enjoyed. It was a very blunt conversation, but polite as well. He was smart. Educated. He didn’t feel things like normal people did. He admitted to seeing me as a parental sort though.
He told me if anything happened to me, he would make sure things would be taken care of. He knew I had no family left. If I died, I had no one to grieve me, no one to handle my last wishes. I had told him I wished to be cremated and my ashes sent spilling over the long pier. He said he would do that for me.
I hope he doesn’t get caught doing the things he does. I have come to depend on him. He may be a monster, a murderer, a cannibal…but he’s all I got.

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