Joshua realized he no longer needed food or water—yet he could still live, live just fine.
The knife in his hand sliced through his own flesh, his hand trembling instinctively from the body's reaction.
He remembered the first time he did this—how the pain had been so unbearable he fainted.
But now... now he was used to it.
Tears dripped silently down his face, pooling at his chin before falling to the floor.
Joshua found that he could no longer control his tears; they came so easily, endlessly. Lately, his eyes had started to feel weak too—but after a night's sleep, everything would return to normal. His vision would clear, his flesh would regrow. It was fine. Everything was fine.
He smiled faintly, sitting on the chair, his legs swinging back and forth as he watched his family eat.
Joshua noticed they were changing—just a little. Their flesh seemed to be growing back, the stench fading. Yesterday, he thought he even saw Louis smile at him.
They must be getting better.
