I shut the door, flipped on the bathroom light and tossed the blanket over the shower curtain rod. My arm pulsed with deep, throbbing pain and the first thing I thought was that something had stung or bitten me. A spider?
It felt like there was boiling liquid pumping beneath my skin. I gritted my teeth. A sickness swirled in my stomach. I leaned closer to the mirror and turned so I could see my back, sliding the spaghetti-strap of my sleep shirt over while twisting myself further around to look over my shoulder at my reflection. A large blotchy patch of skin blazed red. Hot to touch.
“Oh my God…” I whimpered beneath my breath.
I had to call Mom. There was something very wrong with me.
A creepy, static-charge feeling made my hair stand on end. The pain was quickly intensifying. I turned on the faucet and splashed the area with a handful of cool water. It calmed the inflammation, turning it more pink than red.
The sharp pain struck me again and I gasped. The first attack had been brief, but this one… wouldn’t go away. Burning. Spreading. I forced myself up to look into the mirror, and then had to cover my mouth to muffle a shriek.
My back pulsed with an ugly neon-green glow, as if someone had cracked open and leaked instant glow stick over me. Thin bright green veins stretched up and over my shoulder toward my collar bone and down to the small of my back. It was brightest in the center—over my shoulder blade—and faded as it spread and forked out in various directions.
I pulled myself up onto the bathroom counter and scooted closer to the mirror, contorting so I was nose to nose with myself. My hot breath fogged the mirror, distorting my reflection. I rubbed it clear with my forearm.
The branching neon veins crawled beneath my skin, brightening and dimming rhythmically. A subtle dust-like aura leached out through the surface, casting off particles of glimmering light that quickly vanished.
My hands trembled uncontrollably. My pulse raced.
So bright. Such a vivid green. Disgusting. My stomach… felt sicker. Churning. I was about to throw up.
I took a squirt of hand soap from the counter and rubbed it vigorously against the skin. I scrubbed it nearly raw with a wet washcloth, but all it did was cause me to hurt more. Nothing changed. The green continued to glow, fading in and out, the tiny lines of color still spreading across my back.
Unreal.
Toxic.
I felt light-headed—dizzy. Breathing hard.
I had to call mom now. Before…
Ugh. Black and white dots speckled my vision, flashing in and out like stars.
No.
Not a panic attack. Not now.
Breathe. Just breathe!
Deep breaths. In through my nose. Out through my mouth. Slowly.
Get a grip!
I pulled my phone out of my pocket but it slipped from my shaking hands and fell onto the bathroom floor.
“No!” I bent over and scooped it up.
What if Mom thinks it’s drugs? Sam and I would never—ever. We’d made a promise. But…
“Ya alright in there, Allie?” Sam knocked on the door.
I gasped.
“Uh, yeah,” I replied, my voice breaking.
“Ya sure? You’ve been in there for, like, ever. Annnnd I heard ya squeal. Find a bug or something?” Her voice shot up an octave. She wasn’t too enthusiastic about bugs either.
“Just… feeling a little sick.”
“Like period sick? Or do you need some pink stuff?”
“I… don’t know. It might be… another panic attack. I don’t know. I have to call my mom.” I tossed the blanket over my shoulders, hoping it would hide the glow, and cracked open the bathroom door. “I’ll be okay. I think I should go home though.”
“Awww, poor baby.” Sam reached toward my shoulder. I shifted, dodging her hand and her jaw dropped. “Wh-what is it?”
“I… I just don’t feel good.” I shuffled past. “I’m sorry, Sam.” The heat diminished and I started feeling a little relief from the pain.
Her lips wrinkled into a frown and my heart tightened. Her big brown puppy-dog eyes put my stomach in even more knots. I’d known her since the second grade—my best friend in the whole world—but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what I’d just seen in the mirror.
