A low gut wrenching rusty groan came from the kitchen. It was dark, and foul smelling. You could barely make out Aunt Diane on the floor. She came forward into the dim light, a horrendous sight. Her jaw hung low, dragging on the ground, her bones cracked and crunched with every breath and movement. Boils, blisters and pustules covered her, her eyes looked dead and pale, like they were trying to fall out but stuck. Her skin was melting grossly, mold and fungi feasted on her open wounds.