I bit the hand that fed me.
I bit through the bone.
I bit until I tasted blood.
Clamped teeth, holding down until the jagged movements stopped.
The stillness bringing a calm I had never known existed.
Loyal dogs don't question scraps.
They ignore the rumbling in their stomachs. Ignore rough hands and harsh words.
Loyal dogs are loyal until their jagged movements stop, but a beat dog is only loyal for so long.
Until the scraps turn into empty bowls.
Soft rumbling, turning to hollow aching.
You're lucky it was only your hand.
You're lucky I didn't go for the throat.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
Non-Fictionas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
