Sickness' End

         She knew better. She was attracted like a moth to a flame, but she knew better. She could count on her hands the reasons why she was too smart to do that. But every day, she found herself closer. A month after she first felt the attraction, her friend said something about it. She denied any thoughts or obsessions and tried to put it out of her mind, but a week later she began resenting him for meddling in her life. Her obsession grew stronger, and it only took a couple weeks before she surrendered.

         He hadn't heard from her in days, and he was worried. He knocked on her door and after no response, let himself in with his key. The obvious signs of her sick mind were splayed across the walls. There was a stench in the house that only Satan himself could have caused. He called for her, but there was no answer. He began searching the house. The more personal the room was, the more distorted it was. In her bedroom, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He opened her bathroom door and vomited. There she lay - scars all over her arms, marks on her neck, a knife on the floor next to her limp hand, maggots on her face - in a pool of blood.