By: Kaylin Herritt
I can feel it slithering up my back, ready to strike its fangs into my neck at any moment. My throat buzzes with wasps waiting to sting, and fungus itches me as it takes up every area of my esophagus, making it difficult to breathe.
My gut is hollow, but there is a heaviness of dread. My body is holding itself up just barely;every limb is shaking. My hands are cold to the touch, and my skin is as white as that of a corpse.
I have no control over my fingers; they malfunction, twitching as the dread from my stomach makes its way up my throat and takes over the thoughts in my head.
It is constant.
It attached itself to my mind, and it lurks in the corners.
And I can’t seem to pry it out.