Sequel: The Sickening. ›
The Thickening.
Thickening -1.
I feel nothing.
My veins lay in lavender shreds among the floor, and I stare at them involuntarily, drawn to the way they timelessly dangled from the tattered strips of flesh left. The limbs I had were fragments now, and appeared to look like a surgeon's experiment gone horrifyingly wrong, all mangled with various parts just revealing deep holes driven clean through white meat. Bone was disgusting in itself to look at, and I threw up the rest of the stained tissue, gagging on whatever food failed to pass back down, and throwing that up too onto the floor. For a moment, this was a rush to relief, a releasing of demons, it was all that therapeutic shit that it was supposed to feel like...but, overall, it just wasn't enough.
The knife is on the counter. I take it and lick it clean, mainly because I am an insane fuck and it wouldn't matter if they found me like this; the damage has been done, but it has not been finished. Blade slides beneath the bridge of my nose, wet and cool with poisonous saliva, and I rub it onto my cheeks, applying a rosy blush to my primpy dimples. Starting from the left side, I wedge the point between my gums, and roll down about six more sheets of toilet from the left side of the sink...they go between the other two clenched gums, preparing for the unfathomable pain and posing like a bowtie torniquet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
It takes a few suffering tries, but the knife slashes through the corner of my lips, drawing a big gash all the way back behind my sideburns. Awkward as it seems, I pull the knife out, letting the blood gush heavy down the drain, and the next gash matches the other, giving reference to my slanted jawbone. Blood is stopping the drainflow now, and I dare to look up to the mirror, to see my hideous reflection...
I still felt nothing. But I felt nothing with a newfound smile.
My veins lay in lavender shreds among the floor, and I stare at them involuntarily, drawn to the way they timelessly dangled from the tattered strips of flesh left. The limbs I had were fragments now, and appeared to look like a surgeon's experiment gone horrifyingly wrong, all mangled with various parts just revealing deep holes driven clean through white meat. Bone was disgusting in itself to look at, and I threw up the rest of the stained tissue, gagging on whatever food failed to pass back down, and throwing that up too onto the floor. For a moment, this was a rush to relief, a releasing of demons, it was all that therapeutic shit that it was supposed to feel like...but, overall, it just wasn't enough.
The knife is on the counter. I take it and lick it clean, mainly because I am an insane fuck and it wouldn't matter if they found me like this; the damage has been done, but it has not been finished. Blade slides beneath the bridge of my nose, wet and cool with poisonous saliva, and I rub it onto my cheeks, applying a rosy blush to my primpy dimples. Starting from the left side, I wedge the point between my gums, and roll down about six more sheets of toilet from the left side of the sink...they go between the other two clenched gums, preparing for the unfathomable pain and posing like a bowtie torniquet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck...
It takes a few suffering tries, but the knife slashes through the corner of my lips, drawing a big gash all the way back behind my sideburns. Awkward as it seems, I pull the knife out, letting the blood gush heavy down the drain, and the next gash matches the other, giving reference to my slanted jawbone. Blood is stopping the drainflow now, and I dare to look up to the mirror, to see my hideous reflection...
I still felt nothing. But I felt nothing with a newfound smile.