World Eater

25

I AM DISGUSTING.

Alzar’s fingers trembled against the doorknob, shuffling on his feet. His skin was itching, leaving him restless from the morbid thoughts assaulting his mind.

Darting up the stairs, Alzar found himself in the safety of his own room. He threw the gun under his bed, beginning to pace the floor. He couldn't sit still. Rubbing the torn skin on his arms, Alzar came to one conclusion: he was unclean.

Alzar swallowed down a wave of nausea as he stumbled into the bathroom, pulling off his shirt and pants. He couldn't bear to look in the mirror, he knew what he would see: blotchy, sore-ridden flesh stretching down his back, arms, and thighs. The thick layer of sweat dousing his body didn't make him feel any better.

Hot water gushed from the showerhead as Alzar crouched by the tub, dark eyes locked on his hands.

What kind of monster was he?

He still couldn't shake the destructive feeling that had come over him. Gritting his teeth, Alzar turned the faucet to the far right, steam emanating from the shower.

His body immediately cried out in alarm as the scorching water poured over his chest, but Alzar didn't budge. He hovered underneath the flow, letting the water lick at his skin with a searing tongue. He deserved this.

He remembered the sick fantasies he had imagined after shooting the gun. That wasn't normal.

He wasn't normal.

Alzar gasped as his skin started to crawl, a painful, desperate agony overtaking him. It felt like something was wrecking havoc inside him.

What kind of person dreamed about killing someone?

Alzar tore an arm away from his torso, turning the water to cold. An icy wave washed over gum, but the pain didn't even lessen.

What's going on? Alzar thought, his breath coming out in frantic heaves. His flesh was screaming, ringing in his ears.

What was wrong with him?

Everything was falling apart. Alzar clutched his head, his vision swimming in the sheer panic that flooded through his veins. Finally, he threw himself out of the shower, shivering in the brisk air.

The pain reached a climax, his entire body devolving into pathetic spasms. He hit his knees, naked and soaked to the bone, biting his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

And then...a brief moment of relief. Red tinting his vision, Alzar lifted his head and came to his feet, blinking through water and tears.

He screamed.

Hard, yellowish spines protruded from the sores on his flesh, as fresh and natural as a fingernail or bone. Looking in the mirror brought on an almost out of body experience- he didn't believe the image in front of him until he felt the spikes with his own fingers. He received no sensory input from them, but they were definitely real.

“Al, are you okay?” Sariel shouted, heavy footsteps clamoring from down the hallway.

Alzar stiffened, his face contorting into a grimace. At his sudden tighting of muscles, the spines retracted back into his skin, leaving only a raw sore in their place.

Sariel threw the bathroom door open, leaning on the frame. His face was flushed, pale. “Al, what's wrong-”

“Go away!” Alzar cried, wrapping his arms around his torso. Fear made his voice higher pitched, tears filling his eyes.

He couldn't let Sariel see him. Not like this. Not when he didn't even know what was going on with his own body.

Sariel cautiously shut the door, leaving Alzar alone, once again. He sank to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest.