Ingrown

After a few weeks, the sharp edge of your big toe nail had dug its way well into the flesh surrounding it. The raw, festering skin has caused wearing a sock on that particular foot to be ill advised, lest you willfully allow the fabric to become adhered by platelets to the tender area. It's become too much and the desire to escape the constant, nagging pain has driven you to perform a do-it-yourself surgery in your bathroom.

A swolen bulb of raw meat had formed roughly a centimeter past the actual nail point itself, and pressing upon it in order to expose the rogue ceratin sends torrents of gut wrenching pain up your leg, but you press on, determined to end it.

To your horror, and much to your dismay, however, as you make progress, a mass of undulating white larva soon reveals itself. The vomit and adrenalin do their own bidding, but still, you continue, driven by instinct to just make the pain stop. As you remove the last of the maggots, you notice one last white foreign body. You tweez it, and note that it is indeed living when you feel a tug from your toe, thorugh your leg, and up the literal interior of your thigh; but it slips out of your grip, disappearing into the depths of your muscle and sinew as the wound closes before your eyes.