Shedding

Chris

It was a dreary rainy night, cold and wet. I was finishing up sorting files exhausted from a long day of work, when the Sheriff called me, and when I answered he sounded frantic "Chris I know you're almost off but I need you here now! Right now! I don't even know what the hell I'm looking at, I think it's a girl but she... she has no skin! Oh god! Chris, get here now!". His voice cracking on every word with a tone of pure fear then the call ended abruptly. What was he blabbering on about this time? That drunken fool always gets himself in some sort of trouble, so I got up, sorted my things out, grabbed my fur-lined long black coat, and headed out.
I found his location using a tracker; since this happens often I have his location hooked up to my phone, I find him in an alley a few blocks away from a bar- of course, he's drunk. This being a normal thing he does being the alcoholic he is I paid no mind to this. It smelled of a dumpster, rain, and a mystery smell, at the time I couldn't put my finger on it but now I recognize it as a blood smell. He was sitting in a fetal position on the wet cement mumbling to himself, his raincoat falling off of him revealing his soaked collared police uniform. His hair a medium-tone brown was drenched which made his usual slicked-back professional look ruined and now covering his face sporadically "Mike? It's pouring out here you need to get up, c'mon." my voice was rough and filled with annoyance, startled he shot his head up and pointed a gun at me with a violent stare. "Holy! Mike, it's me! Put that down!" I exclaimed with a hint of fear, once he recognized me he began to cry and murmur some unintelligible nonsense and crawled to my feet. "Jesus Mike. You need to stop with this drinking and go home." I said with clear frustration, he didn't respond but pointed to a shadowed part of the alley. At the time I just thought he was having some drunken hallucination of some sort but still decided to see what he was pointing at to make him chill out, so I turned on my phone's flash to see whatever he was attempting to show me.
What I found caused all this animosity, it looked from a far distance like a pile of raw meat, but when I walked closer, clenching my nostrils cause the smell was getting stronger, I could make out a woman, she was shot through the heart- most likely from Mike's gun. Her cold golden brown eyes stared into my soul, her mouth stuck open as if she was screaming in agony. She laid on her side like a sort of deflated balloon, and her head looked straight towards the sky. I let out a sort of silent scream and blacked out at the sight of her. I now sit at a hospital with detectives asking me questions about what I saw, the events during and beforehand, etcetera, but only one thing loomed on my mind. Her expression is all I see when I close my eyes, it all happened so fast that I just can't comprehend what I saw. One thing is for sure she had no skin, where was her skin? What happened to that poor girl? I suppose I'll never know. But I do know that though her expression was fearfully painful her eyes glimmered as she looked upon the stars- which is a rare occurrence, so perhaps she found peace by just being able to see the stars as she died. At least that's what I want to believe to ease my mind.
Weeks passed and we found out that the girl's name is Peach, and was known to be an excellent student, a generous friend, and charming daughter. Until she suddenly disappeared, which we found out that it was because her mother hid her due to her loss of skin. When investigating they arrested her mother for holding the girl hostage and found a letter that Peach had written. The letter was shared with her family and whomever the family permitted to see it, and soon a funeral was held. Though now things have quieted down I haven't been able to forget the eyes of the no-skinned girl, her brown eyes were so sad and pained yet at ease. Doctors are experimenting to see why she lost her skin with the family's permission but still haven't found anything. I write this all to try and write a letter back to her in a way. I hope she can find peace through this letter or perhaps she already was at peace, but I truly hope that... Peach I hope you found a place where people wouldn't be fearful of you, and that you're at peace. Your family and friends mourn your death greatly and I think if only given a chance you'd be accepted. I hope that you can read this in some way and can accept how things ended. I'm sorry if this seems that I hope you find peace so that I can find peace from these traumatizing events, well I suppose in a way I do, but I also pity the way you were treated. I suppose it won't matter once I finally move on from this, but still, I'll always have you in the back of my mind. Your existence will linger like a lost memory till the day I die.
-Sincerely,
Chris

∙∙∙

    I thought that writing a letter to Peach would relieve me of the horrid recurring nightmares I'd been experiencing since that night, alas nothing has changed. Every single night when my body forces sleep from me trying to keep myself awake for as long as possible the nightmare begins in pitch black. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... the sound of something drips. Drip eight, drip nine, drip ten, the black room was probably six feet wide and six feet tall, which is a problem since I'm 6'4. As I'm hunched over so my head doesn't bump the wall I try my best to just count the droplets so I can try and ignore what's about to come next. Drip eleven, drip twelve, drip thirteen, I know deep down I'll never be prepared for what's next. The room starts to smell like rotting flesh, which is truly indescribable, and of blood just as I had smelled that night. Once I blink Peach appears staring at me with those damned eyes. Drip fourteen, drip fifteen, drip sixteen, tears stream as I wish to scream but my body is in some sort of paralysis. Peach's face being the same open-mouthed wide-eyed expression as it was when I found her shakes me to my core. Blood begins to drip from her wide mouth, then pour which fills the room. Drip seventeen, drip eighteen, drip nineteen, manic laughs and shrieks begin to fill the room not just from the missing skin girl but from others whom I don't know. I begin to scream a gurgly, voice-cracking, throat-wrenching shriek as the blood consumes my body, drip twenty. Then I wake up. Every time I wake up I feel my whole body itching like ants are biting all over me. Maybe I'm being slowly eaten alive by my nightmares and I'll end up nothing but a chewed-up piece of muscular tissue.
    Lack of sleep is all I know at this point, because of my decrease in energy I hear and see things that aren't truly there. My job told me to take a paid break because of how exhausted and jumpy I've been. The day I was told to leave I was investigating a suspect when I saw behind him a possie of skinned people- all staring at me the same way she had. Their expression pierced my soul and I broke down, I began screaming and cursing the apparitions which led my work to believe I'd gone mad. The suspect was escorted out of the room as I kept cursing at "invisible" figures. They were there I swear, how could they not be seen? They are all deep blood red with eyes popping out at you, and mouth so wide open their jaws could be unhinged. I haven't left my apartment because they all stand and block the door, and when I would look out the window they'd be outside looking at me. With that damned expression... Just breathe Chris... "one, two, three, four, five, six... oh god" tears swell till they pour from my eyes as I see nothing but red.