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Summary
Hunter sat up snd stared at his hands. They looked just like everyone else's hands. Real, flesh. The hands of a person. A little scarred and scrapped up but you wouldn't ever know he's a fake. He hugged himself. He was realm. He was breathing and thinking. And yet he wanted to cry. As much as he wanted to tell himself he had a right to be here, he knew he was just stolen parts. He forced himself up and out of bed now.
He needed proof that he was real. He'd spent the last few weeks thinking of how to get proof and starving kept seeming like a good option, but he'd already eaten and had time to digest it. He needed something else.