Small Miracles

[Carnelia]

I am twisted in a sheet, still feverish, unable to bear the touch of the blankets on my skin. Everything itches, and the desire to jump out of my flesh if possible is intense. I do not want to be in this body anymore, it is so miserable.

Sitting up I look around as I try to find a comfortable position. My head feels heavy, so I lean over but find it isn’t quite meeting the wall as I expect it to, as if something were blocking me. Absently I scratch my arms, which continue to itch incessantly. Rather than feel expected relief, I feel a sharp pain as my nails scrape and cut. Looking over, I see four long gouge marks. Blood is slowly oozing from the wounds, rolling down my arm and dripping onto the bed. It doesn't alarm me, the blood, although part of me passively find