My Own Parasite

I know this isn't a story I should be telling anyone. If there's a right place to tell it though, it's here isn't it? I know a lot of the stories here are fake but you people seem like the type who are ready to believe a real story when it comes around, to believe it without thinking I'm crazy. Let me make that perfectly clear right here and now before I start. I'm not crazy.

Alright, so, all of this started a few weeks after I left for college. I'll admit I've always kind of been a sheltered girl, not because my parents were strict or anything, they were just really nice and pretty much my best friends. So yeah, I'll also admit leaving home and moving in with some stranger in a dorm kind of shook me up, but I swear that had nothing to do with this. I'm not crazy.

A few weeks in, I started feeling sick. Sick is the wrong word though, it was a different feeling than I'd ever felt. It was in my stomach, an aching, clenching fullness like I'd never felt before. It started out small, but it kept growing in growing, keeping me up at night, making me miss classes and staying in bed not wanting to move. After about a week of the torment I called my parents and after a bit of worrying they said I should go to the school's health center. I couldn't say no to my parents, but it was no use. The nurse working there told me it was just the stress of adjusting to the new environment, that the muscles in my stomach were just clenching up and causing pain. They gave me a card for the school councilor and told me I should definitely go. But of course I didn't go, I'm not crazy.

I didn't know what to do anymore, calling my parents any more would just worry them, and I couldn't do that to them. I think my roommate was starting to get concerned too but I didn't really care. My mind was focused on something else. I was starting to be able to tell what felt so different about the feeling in me. It was the inescapable feeling that there was something alive, and the longer I lay in that bed the more I was sure of it. There was something living inside of me, in my stomach. Maybe a whole lot of things. It scared me, a lot more than I think I've ever been scared. I know it wasn't the smartest thing to do in the situation, but I just stayed there and cried, terrified of what might happen to me, and what people might think of me. And the more my fear grew, the more I could feel it grow in me, like it was feeding off of my distress. But if my last outing to the health center taught me anything, telling people that I had this feeling without evidence or reason; they'd just think I was crazy. But I'm not crazy.

It wasn't until a few days later that I felt it for sure. I felt it move, inside my belly, no doubt about. I swear I felt it move. Thank god my roommate was in one of her classes, because that's when I screamed at it. I screamed with all my rage until my throat burned for it to get out of my body. All that did was make it writhe around in me more, spread itself further across my insides, clench tightly onto them and shoot pain through my body. I needed to get this thing out. With my voice and my energy entirely expired, I lay there in bed crying again. I was so scared, I've never been so scared. But then I felt it again and my eyes shot open. It was different this time, right under the skin near my belly button. I felt it, it was right there, I'm not crazy.

What I did next I did without even thinking, and that's probably a good thing because it had to be done and there's no way I'd have the courage to do it normally. I jumped down from my bed and stumbled to my desk as fast as could. Then, before it could get away I grabbed a pair of scissors and stabbed them into my skin, right where I had felt the parasite. I didn't see anything but my own sparkling red blood when I pulled the blade back, so I stuck my fingers in to investigate, knowing the pain was worth it. My fingers searched desperately for whatever it is that was inside me, tearing the wound open further to get a better look and prodding desperately for anything that wasn't myself. But they couldn't find anything. How could they not find anything it was right there!? I knew it was right there, I would bet my life on it! I'm not crazy, I knew!

Right then, at that worst possible moment, my roommate came back from her class. She didn't understand what I was doing. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth, then ran to my side and asked if I needed help. I didn't need help, I would get this damn thing out of me myself. I was about to push her away when I saw it. It was quick, but I saw it. Something moved. Something moved but I saw it, I swear I saw it. There was something right under her skin, under the skin of her neck. She had one too, didn't she? I acted without thinking again and shoved the scissors in, right where I saw the movement, right into her neck. I didn't get a chance to see if I hit the parasite or not, she covered her neck with her hands. Then after a some wet coughing she fell onto the floor. I used the scissors to search through her neck for hours. I haven't found it in her yet, but I'm going to keep trying. I'll cut open every inch of her body if I have to, and I'm going to find out what this thing is, and then I'm going to get it the hell out of me. I just want it out of me. Is it crazy for me to just want things to go back to normal? To how it was before this thing started eating me from the inside out? I swear, I swear I'm not crazy.