As grey ichor leaked sluggishly in place of tears, I found myself finally having to face the fact that he was gone. Weeks of ignoring the sickly-sweet scent of decay, the half-eaten rodents in the garbage and hoping I'd wake up one day to find him normal had all flown out the window.
He'd been different ever since he came back from that bachelor party/camping trip thing, they'd all come back a little quieter and a lot hungrier. We chalked it up to them not having packed enough food to last the trip but instead of settling back into normality they only grew stranger.
Seeing him cry, if I can even call it that when his body can't make tears any more, was when it really hit me that something bad had happened to the man I love. He can't even remember what it was - none of them can - but now they're all becoming the same kind of greyish, carnivorous creature.
We finally sat down and talked about it last night, coming up with plans for worst-case scenarios that I never wanted to consider. We've got plans for what to tell people if he and the others ever just up and vanish, plans for how to stop him if he tried to attack and eat me, plans for how to kill him and not go to prison for it.
He's so sweet to still be thinking about my safety and my freedom.
That's why I'm taking a small trip today, along with the few partners of his friends who won't give up either.
We're heading out to the woods and we're not coming back until we're all the same as them.
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