Page 60 of Hollyhocks

I freeze.

The morning fog in my mind lifts just enough for me to remember I slept with a shirt on.

“I swear I did,” I grumble, rubbing a hand down my face in exhaustion and slight confusion. “I remember getting dressed, giving Holly clothes, we went downstairs, talked, and…”

Everything after that is blank.

I scrub my eyes and yawn again. I need to get up, get ready, and call Heather. I’ll knock on Holly’s door later. I hope I didn’t do anything wrong last night for her to get up and leave. I wanted her to stay. I didn’t want her to spend the night during a storm alone.

Which reminds me, I need to talk to Caden. He needs to calm down with all these damn storms. Caden is a storm kitsune. He creates storms which gives him energy, but it rains almost every day now. I miss the sun on my skin.

The smell of my automatic coffee pot brewing motivates me to get up from my big comfortable bed.

“Ugh, this sucks. Mornings are not for me,” I groan, hanging my head as I drag my feet to the bathroom.

Flipping on the light, I wince, closing my eyes to slits to protect them from the harsh brightness. I grip the vanity, taking a deep breath to prepare myself for the day.

Looking at my reflection, I reach for my toothbrush when I notice my torso.

My toothbrush falls from my grip. I can’t remember to breathe.

“What in the ever-loving fucking wild is this?” I screech, jumping backward and grabbing at my skin.

I twist and turn, seeing where all the hickey-like spots end and begin. “I’m losing my fucking mind. I’m losing it. Holy fuck, I have a disease. This has to be contagious.” I stare at myself in the mirror in pure panic, noticing perfect red dots all over my body. They kind of look like hickies. How that would be possible, I have no idea.

The black mark is what grabs my attention the most.

It’s spread.

“Holy wild. Holy wild, Holy wild,” I chant in absolute dismay, fumbling with the strings at my sweatpants before tugging them down to my knees.

“Ah!” I’m not proud of the high-note scream, but others would too if they saw what I’m seeing on my cock.

I grab myself, twisting and turning, completely forgetting it’s attached to my body until I tug too hard and grunt.

“Shit, sorry,” I groan in pain, apologizing to my fucking self.

The black mark looks like splattered ink. The largest darkest spot is my cock. More than half is onyx with a few spots that vein out like lightning. It’s those veins that travel up my body and now they have grown, stopping right under pec.

I grip the counter when the room starts to spin. Spots fill my vision as worst-case scenarios run through my mind.

Is this the plague? It can’t be the plague, right? A skin disorder maybe? Cancer?

I slap my forehead when that thought crosses my mind. “Of course it isn’t cancer, you fucking idiot.” I catch my reflection in the mirror, watching my chest rise and fall as I take deep calming breaths.

This is wild. How does this happen?

“Take a shower, relax, and go to the doctor. Everything will be fine,” I say to myself, picking up my toothbrush again. “Just fine. You’re fine, Fitz.” A manic cackle escapes me as I load my toothbrush with too much toothpaste.

Right as I open my mouth to begin brushing, a dark color captures my attention. “What the fuck?” I stick out my tongue, eyes widening when I see it’s black. “What the fuck?” I scream through a mumble. I touch it and then rub it with my fingers. It won’t come off.

“Oh my God. What the fuck is going on? What is this? Am I dying? I have to be dying.”

I scrub my tongue with my toothbrush and the frothy white paste begins to turn grey. There’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t think I’m dying. I guess if I keel over later that will answer all of my questions.

I’m going to drive myself insane with this. All I can do is move forward and keep my mouth shut so I don’t get asked too many questions.

I brush my teeth in a daze, same with the shower, and not even the fun bubbles with iridescent colors bring me out of my trance.

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