(no subject)

[imthepilot]

Apart from a brief sojourn outside a week ago, ostensibly because Myrrh wanted to visit the other forge cats, Bodhi hadn’t left his room.

The rats stopped bringing him sleeping pills and started bringing him food. He hasn’t eaten it, politely sending the food back untouched.

Anyone from Jedhi would know that’s a bad sign. A very bad sign. Jedheans don’t turn down the offer of food. It’s considered deeply rude.

Or a sign of deep despair.

One who longer believes themselves a useful part of society won’t accept food others might need.

But there’s no-one left from Jedhi left alive to notice that.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Bodhi ate a proper meal. The rats took away all the trays.

But he kept the knife. It was the first time he’d touched it.

It took him several hours to put it down.

It felt… comfortable in his hand. It felt… right. Just… holding it.

Just the handle, not the blade. He didn’t touch the blade.

He sleeps with it where he can see it.

He doesn’t sleep much, without the pills. So, he stayed awake.

And stared at the knife.

Sometimes he would hold it.

But he didn’t touch the blade.

It would be okay.

As long as he didn’t touch the blade. As long as he kept not touching the blade.