Beyond The Hallow Grave: Editingle Indie House Anthology (Ed
Editingle Indie Housemy story isn't over yetstory about self-harmthe story i tellstory about myself
I walk back to the sink and sit in front of the camera again.
“I could barely keep my eyes open. I woke up about fifty times that night, sweating, shivering, and having muscle spasms. I was beginning to feel like my body was no longer my own and I was really irritable. Dad was chewing his food like he always did, you know, fucking slowly. It was like that time we had those homemade pizzas. We’d finished ours and he was still chewing his first slice.” I mimic how Dad used to chew, slowly moving my jaw like a camel, chewing out of the left side, then the right side. “It was like he was trying to dissolve the food in his saliva before he could swallow it. This time, though, I didn’t find it fun
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