Troubled

         WC 984

         I sat gnashing my teeth as she continued. All I could hear was the chewing. (Smack! Smack! Smack!) I could feel the noise. Each bite seemed to dig into my mind. I picked at the hairs on my arm to distract myself. Each pull seemed to release some hatred from my body. The satisfying ones I would consume. I cannot find the clarity in my mind to rationalize my actions. I pulled entire clumps of hair from my arm. All there was.. the chewing. I broke out in a hot sweat, my heart racing from adrenaline. I could feel it begin to bead on my forehead. The disgusting liquid rolled down my face. Each drop clawed at my being. I began to dig my pencil into my hand. I frantically looked at my arms to check for warts. Closely inspecting each and every little detail for the imperfections of my body. I felt trapped. I try to escape the reality by digging the pencil in deeper. The lead broke off in my palm as I felt the rush of freedom flow into my mind. The sweating broke for a moment.  (Smack! Smack!)

“Ohh gawd! What are you doing?”

“Good god! Mr. Paulson he is mutilating himself.”

Each word seemed to be hitting my heart. It chose to pump harder again. I felt the hot blood enter my arms and flow from my hand on to the desk. The pencil was almost through now, god it felt great. My only solace existed in injuring this thing I was. Just look at it. There is oil covering every surface, it excreted the most foul smelling substance imaginable, and the puss. Those creepy invaders arising from my skin. I can pick all day and their still more.. every...damn ….day! It takes so much work to remove those and they come back more, more, more. They come right from under me, inside me. It makes sense doesn't it? Its disgusting. How can the others sit so calm? They have the disease as well. Each of them has the wax ooze from their heads.

“Daniel Stop! Someone call the nurse. Good god boy.”

No! I can see him. No! Damn it! His face. I can see the boil. God it is so large. The poison is right at the surface begging to be released. (Smack! Smack!) His eyes seem to beg for freedom. I can see him gaze at me with fear. He sees I am free. I must help!

“Don't worry. I am here.”

I  take my pencil and with all my effort I lunge at him and press it into his face. It satisfyingly pierces his eye. It stops looking so sad. He is leavening his prison. The price I pay for his freedom. His blood covers me. WHY? My heart drops in my chest. I feel such anger I can taste my own blood in my mouth. It tastes of metal.

The teacher lay dead on the floor. The other students have either fled or sit paralyzed in fear.

“I must be cleaned!”

To distract myself from the awful blood covering me I look at the source of my insanity. The noise maker. Her chewing had stopped, but how can I be sure she won't cause this anger in others. She must be punished.

“Why would you do this to me. Can't you see I am suffering enough as it is? You must learn not to make my prison worse.”

I bring my hands to her throat. She kicks at my prison and lands many scratches to my face. Each blow brings my heart a great wave of energy. Every hit is a moment of true nirvana. It makes me stronger and my grip more firm.

“I am”

My thoughts are betraying me. My arms. Are their any more warts? I loosen my grip to check. More feverishly than I ever have I scrape at my arms.

“I am covered in it.”

Wait. She has moved. Ha their she is. She grasps at her neck for air. Why do we need air? I hate breathing. Every breath reminds me of this stupid thing's constant needs. So weak and fragile. I reaffirm my salvation with my knee into her throat. She has left her eyes.

“My face!”

How could I have forgotten? I must go to the bathroom. Quickly I grab the bathroom pass and run to the mirror. I see it. I press my face to the mirror. My eyes wildly look for the evil within. I wipe the blood from my face. I can barely find any zits on the hardened face before me. Wait. I find one. I dig my fingers into the beast and extrude it from my body. It has gone. Sweet release! My breathing settles..... My heart begins to calm.... It is quiet …. so quiet..... no chewing. I ….I can … feel my hand again. The pain. Good god! It hurts.

“What the fuck? Is this all my blood? Gahhh! (pant pant) My hand!. My fucking hand!”

I am covered in blood. My school clothes are soaked with red. I am soaked in sweat. I wander into the hallway to search for help.

“Help! Please!”

I am greeted by SWAT members aiming rifles in my direction. I cry and point at my hand. Obeying their screams I lay flay on the ground.

It has been a week since the trial. My insanity plea fails due my apparent sanity. I wasn't insane damn it. My food tastes of ash. The bland table where I sit remained empty until today. A man join my table due to lack of open tables. (Smack! Smack!) I notice me hand had healed up quite a bit since the incident. (Smack! Smack!) I distract myself from his chewing by checking my arms for imperfections.....