Surrounded by those boring and mundane walls, no windows, and barely any light, you’d think he’d be sad, maybe. Sad because he couldn’t move anymore, not of his own free will. Sad because he rarely did anything else except eat, sad because he couldn’t even hulk his way to the bathroom, he merely took it where he sat.
But sadness didn’t matter, it hadn’t mattered in a long time, neither did any other feeling, and he doubted they ever would again, hunger was all that he felt anymore. His millions of mouths were wide open, gaping out of his chest and his arms, even his legs. All opening wide for yet another feast, more of that wonderful cooking, all yearning for just a bit more.
It was all he could think about these days, eating more and more of that delicious food. An addiction, if you will, not in the physical sense, but in the mental sense, an addiction he just couldn’t describe with words. It was never enough, never enough food, he just always needed more. Always.
And there she came again. She wandered into the room, that clumsy little walk, so puny and small compared to him, so weak. Yet, he cared for her most in the world. She was the only one he saw anymore, and on top of that, the only one who brought him anything to eat. He loved her.
And so it was, him bound to her by needless addiction, though he never exactly heard her open her mouth, he still loved her. But why would she speak if her mouth was stitched shut? It wasn’t like he noticed, he never cared about it, all he cared about was the food, now, of all times, he was more concerned about the food.
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t care about her though. No, he certainly cared about her. She was the only one that let him go on living, only one that even bothered to check he was still living. He, and his mouths, loved her, loved her with everything he and they could.
At this point, his mouths were screaming. A symphony of ecstasy, an orchestra of pleasure, a wall of emotional happiness so thick that you couldn’t hear anything else in the room, his mouths yearning for just another taste and he yearning for just another sight. Seeing her walk across the room, seeing that tray in her hands, that made his day.
She walked nearer to him now, missed a step, almost tripped, but continued going, as if she had to. His mouths watered, were so filled with drool that they couldn’t scream anymore. For now, everything was silent except for her clacks on the stones beneath her. Silent except that gasp she let out when she almost fell.
She reached him, took the cover off the tray. His eyes had rolled up into his head, his mouths made a pool of drool on the floor around him, he was frustrated for her taking so long, but he could still smell it, that was just enough, just barely. The fumes drifted up into his nose, and he went insane.
His arm smacked her completely aside, grabbing all the food on the tray at once and throwing it onto himself, each and every single one of his mouths gobbling everything up. Moving like the most disciplined military unit in the world, he ate every last crumb. That was a mistake.
She stood up, tears in her eyes. He stared back at her, tears in his, but it wasn’t like he could help it, he just hoped she would understand. For awhile, she did, he got too used to it, he guessed, much too used to it.
The next day he was chained to the wall. The next day there was no light in his chamber. The next day she didn’t come in until so very late. The next day was hell.
His mouths watered, his mind was focused on food, it was all day. But it never came, she never came, never even bothered checking up on him. His wrists hurt, his mind hurt because she wasn’t there, his body hurt from this newly introduced diet, but most of all, his mouths hurt from not getting that damned food.
Finally she came in; light flooded the room from the door. Finally she stood there, staring up into his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at her, her eyes were so hate filled, so disliking of him, so uncomfortable. His heart ached, but he didn’t exactly care, he was too hungry to care.
He screamed at her, screamed about his food. She stood there for what seemed like hours, only staring at him, and he shouting for what seemed like hours, constantly about his food. His mouths spoke a million words a second, a million different words a second, even if her mouth was unstitched, she wouldn’t be able to respond. But since it was stitched, she had a reason not to.
His mouths shrunk, as did his body. Without that wonderful food to feed him, he slowly degraded. He couldn’t shout with the fury he had before, he didn’t have the breath, he was about one one millionth of his original size, he couldn’t think anymore, his words becoming garbled and incoherent. Soon his mouths were non existent, soon his body was barely there anymore, instead of hulking in the center of the room, he was merely sulking.
On all fours now, his mind a rambling mess of emotions and weakness, his body just a skeleton with skin stretched to the point were some of it was just peeling off rather than stretch over such an area, he stared up into her eyes again. Again, he was met with that uncaring gaze, again it was his fault, and again he hungered for food.
He moved his hand out over the cold stones underneath him, pushed himself forward with his fingers he was so light. His other hand reached out to pull as well, his feet pushing in unison. The chains that had been holding him to the wall didn’t matter now; he merely slipped out of them, now they took up the size of his body. Slowly, he crawled towards her.
Slowly.. Barely moving.. And, then, finally, there. His vertebrae stretched out of his skin, making a mountain range on his back, his skin stretched so thin over his face that it was a skeleton; you could see the gap in between the bones in his arms, could count every rib in his cage, count every bone that made up his toes and fingers. And yet, he carried on, as if hoping for some sort of sympathy, some sort of hope, the worst kind, the one you knew would never, ever come true, but it was the only one he had, the only thing that allowed him to go on living. He was so close, stretched out his fingers to touch her, hearing every bone crack in his fingers.
It took every last bit of his energy, every last bit of adrenaline, every last touch of emotion left in him. He’d cry, but his tear ducts were dry, he’d blink to water his eyes, but if he did that he wouldn’t have enough energy left to keep moving his hand. He touched her foot, stared up into her eyes, his skin so slowly stretching to the point of breaking, with the skin on his ribcage already gone and his intestines slowly leaking onto the ground.
And there, once more, there was that absolutely uncaring stare, that one that communicates with his gaze at a million words a second. There she stood, beautiful and glorious as ever. There she stood staring down at him, seeing every ounce of need he had, seeing every single necessity, there she saw his love. Down she stared, his breaking body, his dead mind, now with his heart slowly falling out.
She pulled him up by his chin with her hand, reached into his ribcage, pulled out his heart. It hurt, but maybe it would give her what she needed to at least feed him again, he didn’t even care about love anymore. But she didn’t, she threw him back down onto the ground, and turned away. As if as a second thought, she kicked his head with her ankle.
He tilted his head up, he stared at her, watched her walk away, she was so close and yet so distant. He hoped she would come back, let him keep functioning, let him go back to what he enjoyed so much, the eating. Watched her walk away, hoped she would come back, it would only be a matter of seconds now, she’d surely realize her mistake, surely come back. Blink, watch her go farther, blink, eyes closed a bit too much this time, open up she’s still walking, blink, closed, open for a second, see her drop his heart so far away from him, blink…
None.
