In the beginning

The house is very small.  Typical of the kind of houses people live in the slum areas in Manila.  Less than 60 square feet barely enough for a single person, let alone two.  It was raining outside so the window and door was closed.  Puddles of water were on the floor coming from the holes on the roof but the boy did not care.

The boy just sat in the corner looking at his dead father.  For several hours, the boy has been crying but finally stopped when sorrow finally gave way to hunger.  They had not eaten anything for several days and the boy can't stand it anymore.  He needed to live.  His father told him before to do anything in order to survive as long as he did not hurt anyone.

His father is dead, he cannot feel anymore, right?  Just a small part, he promised to himself and he will stop.  The boy stood up and walked over his father.  He bent over and licked his father's arms.  Not good,  he wanted to vomit.  He heaved but nothing came out.  The boy breathed deeply and looked at his father's face.  He have to do this or he'll be the same as his father.  Dead.

Don't think. Just do it and it will be over.  The boy grabbed his father's arm and started to bite.  The muscles were a bit stiff due to rigor mortis but the boy held on, sinking his teeth into the flesh.  He chewed away a chunk of flesh and started gnawing.  The boy gagged and threw out the flesh.  He started crying again but he have to do this.  The boy wiped away the tears and started biting on his father's arm.

The boy did not chew anymore, instead, he just swallowed chunks of flesh.  He continued eating until the taste and smell does not bother him.  Satisfying his hunger is more important than satisfying his palate and besides, he's beginning to like the taste of his father.  He will not die.  Satisfied that he has eaten enough, the boy slept.