Disease

It started with an itch.

It was mid-term exams week so I didn't really have much time to worry about it. I scratched at the underside of my foot for a couple of days before I assumed it was athlete's foot and threw some medicated powder on it. I remembered I had forgotten to wear flip-flops in the shower just a few nights before and you know how college dorms can be, especially the bathrooms. They're not exactly what I would call a sterile environment. 

It was annoying, sure, especially since I wanted to focus on studying, but shit happens. I put on some socks and told myself I could handle it. It was just a little itch after all. There are worse things, like disease and malnutrition.

But then I couldn't focus. I couldn't think about anything except itching my foot and relieving the burning ache that crawled along the skin of my toes. Everyone told me not to scratch it, and I resisted, I did, but it was impossible. I had to scratch it sooner or later. I was going crazy. 

So I took off my shoes one night and I scratched it. And then I couldn't stop scratching for hours, for days even. Time passed by so quickly and the itch felt like it worsened by the second. I lost interest in everything except scratching. 

It sounds ridiculous, I know. My boyfriend thought so too. After a couple of weeks of me ignoring him so that I could scratch in peace, he broke up with me. I wanted to cry, honestly, because I think I loved him, but I couldn't even pick up the phone to beg him to take me back at this point. Itching had become a two hand job and it was a 24/7 affair.

The loyalty of my friends lasted a little longer. I think it was about a month and a half before they stopped knocking on my door. My roommate made up a complaint about a nasty smell in our room, like something was rotting, and blamed it on me so she could move out. I didn't like being alone, but I was glad I had so much time to myself to itch. It was hard to think about anyone or anything but the itch. 

By now it had spread. It was probably my fault since I never washed my hands after I scratched my foot and then touched other parts of my body. I took biology and I know that bacterial and fungal infections can spread easily through touch. I guess I wasn't even really thinking about it since I had to concentrate on the itch.

I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't go to class, couldn't shower. My mom was worried because I never returned her calls, but I couldn't think long enough to answer the phone and talk to her. I made a habit of laying on the bed with the blinds closed and the lights turned off so no one would know I was home and I scratched.

I don't know how long it was before the campus police came looking for me. It must've been a while because they sounded serious when they knocked on my door and called my name. 

The itch was worsening. My skin felt like it was melting. I needed to get away, I needed to get out of here, to somewhere I could be alone, where I could scratch and no one would bother me. 

Luckily I lived on the first floor of my building so I opened the window, popped out the screen, and jumped through into the adjacent courtyard. It had been so dark in my room that, for me, daylight no longer existed. The sun that day, for some reason, was scorching and suddenly I felt so sluggish that I struggled to open my eyes.

In the back of my mind, someone was screaming hysterically. 

"Oh my God!! Oh my God! OH MY GOD!"

It was a girl I knew, watching me with a horrified look on her face. I ignored her despite the strange way I felt when I caught a glimpse of her, like there was a small gnawing ache between my ribs, right below my heart. I sought the dark quiet shadows of the woods nearby, moving slowly.

A different voice called my name from behind. Footsteps drew closer. A part of me recognized my ex-boyfriend instantly, but my head was so fuzzy. I just needed to be alone, so that I could itch. All I wanted was to itch. 

"Katie! Katie, stop! Please!"

I don't know why I stopped. I still can't explain it, the itch, or why it stopped when I looked at him. But when the itch disappeared, I felt cold, like my skin was full of holes and the spring breeze was blowing through it. My ex stepped in front of me, bent forward to meet my eyes. My vision was blurring and I could barely see his face. 

"Katie? Oh God, your skin... You look like hell..."

He pulled me to him and he smelled just like I remembered and his arms around me were so warm. 

"Katie, you smell like you haven't showered in weeks..."

He moved to pull away from me and I wrapped my arms around his waist. I thought maybe if he became a part of me, I could absorb his warmth from the inside. We could be together again, in a way that nothing would ever separate us. We could become one. 

I bit him. First in the shoulder and then the neck. When he died, the blood began to taste sour and I dropped his body on the grass.

The girl had started screaming again, but she didn't run. She was an easy catch. Not that she tasted very good, but I was hungry anyway. 

I don't remember anything after that. I know I made it to the woods and I know a lot of time has passed since then because I've walked for so long that I don't know where I am anymore and it's dark. 

I feel tired so I find somewhere to sit and I rest my legs. I want to sleep, I want to think, figure out what I'm going to do now, but I can't. My skin itches again. 

Somewhere behind me, branches rustle and crack.

"Hey! Are you okay? Is this your blood on the ground?"

Suddenly, the itch goes away.