A cure for apathy

As the boy often did, he wandered. Where he had wandered to this time, he didn't really know. Beat was a little lost. Not that it mattered much. He would be missed, but they were better off without him around. Less bad could happen to them. He was cursed, after all. Everyone that he loved died. Everyone that grew close to him suffered. He was a menace and was better off alone.

Gangly legs carried the sulking child across the plateau. Prominent hip bones stuck out like spikes. He often forgot to eat in his constant state of apathy. Beat didn't want to die by any means. He was too much of a coward for death. It was obvious that he didn't care about himself though. His black and white pelt was dirty. Burrs stuck in his tail and chest. He was grossly thin, his long legs adding to the freakishly emaciated look. A strong wind might blow him over, one would think. He just didn't care.

At six months old he had lost both parents and an aunt. All of whom had cared for him. He had loved them and they had died. Beat couldn't understand it and so, the only logical explanation why those around him died was because he was cursed. It was his fate that everyone around him would die. In the end he would be as alone as he felt. At the thought, a soft whine pulled from the boys tight throat. Ears plastered themselves to his skull and tears filled two-toned eyes. He was a mess. Both mentally and physically, he was a mess. Beat was resigned to the fact that he would always be that way. There was no helping him. How did you cure a curse, after all?