Bogleech.com's 2014 Horror Write-off:
" Falling Apart "
Iím falling to pieces. Thatís what the doctors said, back when I could still hear them.
I was quarantined but itís not like I have any infectious disease or anything. Iím a medical anomaly. They said that too.
I pick at the bloody craters in my skin. They itch and the doctors canít find any signs of infection. Iím a perfect healthy human being aside from the chunks of meat missing from my body. I still heal, so the wounds close up, but more pieces fall off than my body can keep up with.
It started about a week ago. I woke up with a stomachache and had no appetite. Mom made me eat breakfast anyway.
"Itís the most important meal of the day!" she nagged, "Youíre only hurting because youíre hungry. Eat and youíll feel better."
I did feel better, at least until lunchtime. And then, I felt even worse than before. The pain came back like an iron fist gripping my insides. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts out. I saw a chunk of blood floating amidst the half-digested sandwich meat and orange juice.
"Well, what did you think was going to happen from eating so fast? Here, take these and youíll feel better. Then go wash up for lunch."
Mom handed me some kind of anti-acid medication. I guess she thought I had heartburn. It wouldnít hurt, I thought, and swallowed the pills with a glass of water.
As I scrubbed my hands I felt my thumb slide off at the knuckle. It landed in the sink with a wet plop and swirled down the drain with the soapy water.
"Uh," was all I managed to say. It didnít hurt at all. It was like pushing a chunk of rot off of a fruit I was washing. Slid off like the skin of an overripe banana.
I didnít want to worry my mom so I just put a bandaid on the stump of my thumb. It came off so cleanly, there wasnít even a jagged edge at the bone.
When dad came home we ate dinner and my nose fell off and splashed into my soup.
My mom screamed and I was rushed to the hospital, my poor nose wrapped up in a tissue stuffed in my motherís purse.
The nurses did a bunch of tests on me, took samples of any bodily fluid imaginable. I showed them my missing chunk of thumb. They gave each other a look and shuffled out of the room.
I was starting to get nervous. A cube of flesh pushed itself out of my shoulder and landed on my bed. I wanted to puke again.
I could hear my mom outside, screaming at the doctors. Demanding they tell her what kind of poisons they were pumping into me, if they had reattached my nose yet, why she wasnít allowed to see me. The usual.
Something pushed its way up my throat. I spat it out onto my chest. A bloody chunk of something. I flicked it off and onto the floor, pulled the blanket over my shoulders and tried to go to sleep.
When I woke up I was in a different room, and a bunch of doctors were asking me all sorts of questions through my cell phone for what felt like hours. I was missing more bits of my fingers at this point. I made a little pile of my missing parts on the stand next to my bed. It reminded me of sorting out Halloween candy to trade with my friends, back when I was a kid.
As they spoke to me I became aware of the fact that they were getting harder and harder to hear. I brought my hands up to my ears and realized that one of them had fallen off too. A cylinder of finger rolled off of my shoulder like a little hotdog segment.
I just wanted to die, to get it over with. This was just too gross. At least normal people got to know what they were dying from.
What if I didnít even die? What if little bits of me just kept falling off and then stopped? Iíd have to walk around and act like I didnít look like swiss cheese. How could I get a husband, raise a family? Everything sucked.
The doctors were still asking me things but I had been ignoring them ever since I realized my ear had fallen off. I made myself fall asleep again.
The earliest holes made in my body had begun to heal over. It looked like someone had used an ice cream scoop on different parts of my skin. The rest were still wide open, and I could see a glistening red, like the inside of a cherry pie. I really wanted to lick them but I was afraid of getting them infected.
But it was so tempting. They didnít bleed, but blood would ooze out if I squeezed them, like some kind of inverted zit. I licked the trail of blood on my forearm and swirled my tongue around inside of the little bloody crater.
I didnít feel anything at all. It was like licking any other part of me. Tasted a little coppery.
When I pulled back to look at my arm again a bit of my tongue had fallen off inside. I wanted to puke again.
Anyway, Iím still alive right now. Missing bits of my lips and cheeks now, one eyeball, one hand, a kneecap, both ears, bits of both thighs, and a nice chunk of rib. Maybe one of my kidneys at this point but itís hard to look at my back. Not really much point in listsóthereís bits missing everywhere. My sheets are covered in blood but everyone is too scared to come into the room with me to change them or give me new ones.
Every day I think, maybe itís gonna stop now, maybe itís gonna stop now, and then another piece of me falls to the floor.
Iíve organized the bits that have fallen off by size and shape. Some are cubical, some are half circles. Iíve got a few perfect spheres. The biggest chunk is about the size of my fist; I think itís the fat from one of my boobs.
Oh yeah, my boobs are different sizes now. Iím definitely never gonna get laid at this point.
I think Iím going to die and it wouldnít be so bad if it werenít so boring. But ever since my tongue and fingers fell off I havenít been able to tell anyone to fetch me a book or a videogame or just to get me a laptop with some Netflix or something. They just think Iím in pain but theyíre too scared to even get me drugs.
Iím falling to pieces, and no one is doing anything to help me.