I was beginning to rot.
I noticed when it first started to happen, on Wednesday morning. The skin on the bottom of my feet was peeling off and a sickly green color was washing away my sign of humanity. I asked my mom about it, and all she had to say was that I had nothing to worry about. That this was normal. That people's green-colored skin peeled off all the time. That I'm doing this to myself with my head.
Despite my continuous efforts to see a doctor, I still had to go to school. My feet and legs were getting paler than the rest of my body. I always felt lightheaded. I felt sick. And my mom wouldn't take me to the doctor, so I stopped bringing it up. I took this into my own hands, and like what I usually do when anything is wrong with my body, I googled my symptoms.
According to various sources from the Internet, I should either be dead or am dying at a rapid rate. Nothing made me feel more afraid than witnessing my own death as it happened in front of my eyes like a sick, twisted horror movie. And I could do nothing except watch myself rot.
We are continually decaying. I think my body just ... stopped the growth. There was no particular answer for it. Losing myself caused me to lose interest in everything else. I stopped doing assignments in school and started skipping class. My mom didn't care and I didn't see a reason to.
But then, all up and down my leg I had purple and blue bruised skin that began to curl and fall off. There was hardly any flow of blood reaching past my knees which caused my legs to turn a ghostly grey wherever I wasn't plagued. The smell of coal and burning gasoline haunted me wherever I went.
I stopped eating. I stopped using the bathroom. I stopped doing normal, mundane things. My mom didn't show up one day, the day that I was most sick.
I was vomiting but none of it was anything I've consumed recently. I couldn't breathe and I felt extremely cold even though I dressed myself in my warmest clothing. I even put on my winter jacket, which didn't help.
I couldn't walk, talk, or breathe much. I basically couldn't function as a human being so I decided to just lay down on my bed. I wondered when my mom would get home and what she would say. I was doing my best not to panic but this plague, whatever it was, wasn't going away and I didn't know what to do. I did my best to fill up my lungs with air to no avail.
All at once, there was a banging at my bedroom door. My mom's voice came muffled but I could tell she was screaming and crying. The banging was getting louder and louder. I tried standing up but found myself incapable of moving. I was stuck lying down on my back. I tried to open my mouth and say something but again, my bodily functions have completely failed me.
All I could hear was my name being called out and that wicked banging sound. Everything was turning dark. My vision was distorted but I could make out the shape of a white cover and silk above my head. There was one more bang, some shuffling, and then silence.
I waited. I waited for as long as possible for someone to come and rescue me. I felt powerless and stupid for trying to use my voice that didn't work.
At last, I heard some voices and felt myself being lifted in whatever box I was trapped in. Finally, someone who could help. I tried calling for help, using whatever strength I had left in me to yell out.
"Such a shame, he died young. It's like I can hear him calling out sometimes, if I'm being honest. I miss him, I don't want to let go yet."
I heard thud, after thud, like something was dropping directly above my face. If I understood earlier that it would be this lonely, I would have just went and got cremated.
