16. My Girlfriend's Bump

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Let us write a story for them. Let us peel back their skin to reveal the horror lurking beneath. Pain that feels all too familiar. Torment that hits too close to home. This isn't an alternate dimension. This isn't a liminal realm or a divergent timeline. These horrors are here and now. This could happen to... Someone just like you.

Ouch. Honey, I feel like I have a swollen button at the top of my neck. Can you please look? I stood behind my girlfriend, Emma, as she lifted her hair, looking at me with a worried expression in the bathroom mirror. She did indeed have a swollen pimple just at the top of her neck. It looked gorged with blood. Yes, it's just a swollen pimple. Don't touch it too much and it'll go away in a few days.

She frowned and started scratching it with the other hand. Hey, what did I say? Oh, but it itches like hell. You can't imagine. It's just a matter of a few days. Come on, finish removing your makeup and come to bed. After about 10 minutes, she finally came to bed with me. During the night, I felt her going back and forth to the bathroom, which was directly accessible through a door in our bedroom. The next morning, I woke up alone in bed. I went into the bathroom.

still misty-eyed and saw Emma, dark circles under her eyes, rubbing the back of her neck. Have you been here all night? Oh, you scared me. Is it... is it morning already? We both sat down in the dining room with our breakfasts, and I saw her scratching the back of her neck again. It can't be a classic pimple if it itches this much. Let me look again. She lifted the hair behind her neck.

The pimple had tripled in size. It was red and warm to the touch. It had definitely become infected, since I could feel that it was not hard, but soft, as if filled with pus. Emma, I think you've got an ingrown hair or something. You need to go and see a doctor first thing this morning. You can't stay like this. I saw her tired eyes shift towards me. No way. I've still got to work on a project at work I've been working on for months.

I can't. You risk getting a hole in the back of your neck, or worse, if you leave it like that. Make an appointment with the doctor this morning and tell them it's an emergency. I'll take you there by force if I have to. I looked again at the lump on the back of her neck and shivered.

Okay, okay, I'll go. Don't worry. I'll call right away. Once I got to work, I anxiously waited for news of her doctor's appointment, which was scheduled for 11am. With no news from her at 11.30am, I texted her to find out what the doctor had said. Oh, nothing. He just told me it was an inflamed fever blister and to just rub some ointment on it. Everything's fine.

i was both pleased and suspicious an inflamed fever blister not a chance either she was lying to me or the doctor had seen her was a quack we used to text and send memes during our work days It was our usual routine. But this afternoon, no matter how many times I texted and sent memes, she didn't respond. At 5pm, I couldn't wait any longer, and I left early to get home and find out why she hadn't been in touch.

On the way, I imagined her laughing at me for rushing back when she was just having a nap on the sofa without her phone. I parked my car and went inside. Honey? Honey? No answer. I walked through the living room. the kitchen the bedroom and finally i saw a light in the bathroom i gently pushed open the door and there she was scratching not just the back of her neck but her whole head with her nails

like a fury, while staring at herself in the mirror. Honey, it doesn't seem like you're feeling any better. She stared at me for several seconds and finally replied, It's like... The itch has spread to the rest of my skull. As her head rested on me, I applied an ice pack to the base of her neck. And finally, she seemed to relax. Tomorrow, you're going back to the doctor.

And a competent one this time, okay? She smiled at me and nodded weakly. That night, I put a fresh ice pack between her neck and her pillow, figuring it would get her through the night.

I was startled awake by something tickling my nose. I rubbed my face and looked around. It was still dark outside the window. I was about to go back to sleep when I noticed that Emma wasn't lying next to me. The ice pack was on her pillow. Emma? Emma? My eyes were still tingling and the floor seemed to be moving under my feet. I saw a light under the bathroom door. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

Emma? Emma, please, open up. No answer. My heart began to pound and adrenaline jolted me awake. Something was wrong. Emma, if you don't open in five seconds, I'll break the door down. I waited anxiously for five seconds that seemed like an eternity. But there was no sound from the other side. Only the light coming from under the door. I started banging my fist against the door. Maybe she spent part of the night scratching her head again and fell asleep from exhaustion. The harder I pounded...

the more anxiety and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I shouldn't have left her like that. I should have taken her to the hospital last night. Why didn't I? I couldn't help imagining what was going on behind that door. and the more time passed, the more horrible things I imagined. Eventually, I started kicking the lock, ignoring the pain on my bare feet. The door finally gave way under my repeated assault, and I rushed into the bathroom.

The floor was stained with blood, as was the shattered bathroom mirror. And opposite the mirror, sitting on the tiled floor and looking inert, was Emma. I approached her slowly, trying to avoid stepping on the blood, and noticed the tufts of hair were also scattered everywhere. Emma? Emma? Her arms and legs were stretched out along her body. Her face was pointing down and her hair, or what was left of it, was blocking my view. Her skin was so pale. I crouched down in front of her.

Tears welling up in my eyes. The color of her skin. Her motionless torso. She was dead. I was sure of it. I had to make sure. I had to touch her, seek a pulse towards her neck, even though I knew it was hopeless. At that moment, I thought the worst thing that could happen was to feel nothing under my fingers. And yet I was wrong. I delicately lifted her chin to touch her neck with my other hand and felt movement. My eyes widened in surprise.

She had a pulse, but its rhythm seemed chaotic. And as I lifted her chin again to see her face, her head tilted back, I watched in horror as dozens... Then hundreds of tiny spiders emerged from her mouth, eyes, and ears. Her body seemed to tremble as if hundreds of them were still inside her, coming out to defend their nest.

I screamed at the top of my lungs at this vision of horror, screaming again and again until my vocal cords broke. Tiny spiders reached my feet, and I tried to crush them. But there were so many of them. and there were still hundreds coming out of her. I ran away. I just grabbed my phone from the bedroom as I passed and ran outside, still in my boxers. Outside.

I spent several minutes brushing off imaginary spiders for my body. It felt like they were all over me. Inside me. After a while, I managed to calm down and called for help. A police car arrived, accompanied by an ambulance. They tried to question me, but I was in a catatonic state. At the police station, I was informed by a policeman that they considered Emma's death to be accidental, so they were releasing me. I was sitting in a chair, and the policeman kept talking in front of me.

But I was somewhere else. I kept seeing those tiny spiders coming out of Emma and spreading everywhere. I realized that for several minutes now. I hadn't been able to stop scratching the swollen spot that was right at the back of my right knee. Girlfriend's butt. was written by S.G. Woodhouse and performed by Jamie Petronas and Kayla Temshiv. where fiction producers flourish.