FAWNROT (Str4wb3rryBl00d)
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Summary
How long had it been? Days?
Days. Almost certainly.
It was obvious by his longer stubble pricking his boney fingertips. He never let it get this long, using his old dull disposable razor to carve into his jaw, nicking his skin often.
Zepp's blood had also long since dried, crusted, and begun to flake off. The mixed scent of metallic blood and literal shit from the abandoned bathroom had a new element of putrid rot. The stench of the dead. Adam didn't know much about death, but he figured Zepp, or what was left of him, had rigor mortis. It was foul. At first, Adam found himself retching, but his stomach was long since empty.