There was pain, sharp and immediate in his side. He didn’t know where it came from, but he was sure that it was somehow connected to the flesh he was grinding between his teeth, to the blood filling his mouth. But those were good things. Right things. He wanted those things, so the pain was a price he’d pay.
A moment later, a year later, a blink later, and the pain doubled. Doubled then doubled again, looping around his chest and crawling up his spine. It wasn’t the same pain, it changed, it grew, it became something different. Something more. Something that was in his head, twisting and writhing like a snake. He didn’t like that. He wanted the good and the right back, the blood and the flesh, to go with the justifiable pain. If he had those, then maybe the thing in his head would stop spinning, shredding, blinding.
So he bit again. It was different flesh. It was different blood. It did not stop the snake in his brain. Maybe it needed more, so he bit again, tearing at what was covering the flesh, exposing it so he could bite harder and deeper. There would be more. There would be rivers. There would be pain.