Around a year ago, in the past...
I am so hungry. Starving. No, starving isn't the right word. This is worse.
It's hunger turned inside-out. My own insides chewing themselves like an animal gnawing on its own leg trying to escape a trap. Every second stretches, I could feel it chewing at my intestines, my throat, teeth on bone, gnawing, ripping then spitting because let's face it, I'm rotting.
What used to be muscle is now nothing but skin, wrapped tight over bone. My skin feels like paper, chest like a hollow drum. I'm dying. And if this is my father's idea of punishment, then he's about to be in for a surprise. Let him find out his heir died like a chained dog, shirtless and starving. Let him choke on the shame.
Yes, just the thought of it brought a sweet smile to my lips.
The sound of a door clicking stole my attention, and here she comes. The angel, about to take me to the heavens, carrying a tray of lab equipment.
