Josh

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I am ravenous. My stomach burns with such ferocity , and yet I don't despair or fear anymore. I can't.

I am angry, enraged. The fire at the pit of my stomach intensifies with every passing minute. I feel my skin harden, my nails grow longer, my teeth sharper.

Images of them flicker through my hazy mind occasionally. I wonder if they're the reason why I choose to chain myself to a door and let myself starve. To deprive myself of the smallest rat which skitters across the depressing room every now and then.

Sometimes, one or two will appear. I study them silently. I dare not make a sound. I know if I do, they will hear. They will not attack or eat me, but I know I will sound just like them, that horrible high-pitched wail bouncing off every visible surface, a cruel reminder of who I am.

What I am.

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