It had been three weeks since the Nelsons ate Timmy.
Mr. Nelson knew that he had to go out and find something to eat. Or they would die. But he had four problems.
He looked towards the corner where his teenage daughter lay curled up. Problem Number One. Adaeze was asleep, her ragged breath a sign that even in her dreams she was plagued with guilt for eating her closest friend. Yes, Timmy was the family pet, but the dog had become more than that.
Timmy was Adaeze’s support animal. His sweet daughter was brilliant, a genius really, but also on the autistic spectrum, and on many occasions, when her brain processed information so quickly that she hyperventilated and began to physically hurt herself, only Timmy could calm her down.
Mrs. Nelson was useless, so self-involved that she saw Adaeze’s issues as a personal affront. She dragged…
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