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Why is it itching so bad? I do not feel anything on my face, but the itch won’t stop no matter how much I scratch. I sit up on my bed trying to calm down and not scratch anymore. I mean I do not need some weird bug in my skin or whatever right now: it’s shitty as is already.

But it’s so annoying! Baaahhh!

I go to the bathroom, turn on the light and stare at the mirror. I lost a little weight these couple of weeks, so cheeks caved in a bit. Got bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, but I do not see any rash anywhere. Why is my right cheek itching so much then?

Ouch! Fuck!

Did I scratch off a pimple or something? A blood droplet is running down the cheek. I do not think there was anything there before… It’s somehow uneven now. It won’t be good if I continue scratching there. But, perhaps, if I try to peel it just a little bit?..

It hurts! And it’s even more uneven now! Let’s try one more time then… Damned blood, my hand slipped!

Huh? What’re you looking at? Not so handsome now with a piece of skin dangling down your face, are you? Not like any chicks bothered with you before anyway. Oh, oh, I know! Why not continue and make the same thing on the left side? Perhaps someone will pity a freak like me and hire me to clean toilets somewhere? Or even film a movie with me? I could be a movie star with dozens of cunts spreading before me and my bank accounts! What’s some little pain before such a dream, huh?

Fuck! Dug too deep and pulled too hard. Hey, I can see my teeth through the left cheek. Definitely a future star. But it won’t be enough to just get one or two flicks… I need something greater with indefinite royalties… Ahhh! That stupid itch is now on left side as well!

I start scratching both cheeks, but to no avail. I need to go deeper. I need to do better. I need to be perfect. So that they all would realize, how awesome I am! If my skin is sick, then… Then… Peel it the fuck off, I say!

Aaaaahhh! It hurts! It hurts! And these lumps of skin… Yuck! How could have I wore them before? They are disgusting!

Now… Pain is subsiding somewhat. I am a bit afraid looking up now. I mean, I may go blind from the beauty, right? Erh… Too much blood, need to wash it off a bit. Well, it’s definitely better now. Smoother for sure. But that jawline… It’s so uneven, so unmanly. But… I do not really need it, do I? I mean, I’ll be drinking smoothies and whiskey when I am a star, who cares for my teeth then? But how do I rip it off?

I put my fingers into my mouth and start pushing it down but bite my fingers instead. Is it a reflex or something? A punch in the head to overcome it! Yeah, boy! Ringing in the ear is nothing compared to what I will accomplish with my new perfect self!

Now, push it down! Rip those muscles and tendons to shreds. Pain. It hurts like hell. But it means I am alive, right? And as long as I am alive, I can do anything. Now, one more push! Push! Push!


There is no scream, though. When I finally focus on the mirror, I see my jaw hanging by the skin of my throat, tongue accompanying it, although looking a bit stretched. There is blood dripping from the sides of my mouth, but I do not feel its taste anymore.

I do not think it’s good for the jaw to be left hanging like that. I grab scissors from the shelf inside the mirror and try to cut it, but my hands are shaking, and the cut is quite uneven now. And the tongue is quite squishy, and I can’t cut it off, only free it from the jaw itself. Which may be a good thing: I may still be able to taste some pussy like this.

I look at the sink expecting to give some final glances to what was my lower face, but instead of pieces of flesh and bone there I see lots of small black spiders skittering around in the pool of blood. Am I loosing it from pain and blood loss? Am I hallucinating? I try to laugh at how ludicrous this all is, but only weird whistle comes out of my throat.

I drop to my knees, pushing my head against the edge of the sink. What… What have I been doing? What was this for? I… Who am I? I can’t seem to feel anything. I feel the smell of blood and spit, coolness of the sink and floor, but my insides feel so hollow… Come on… Remember. Remember! What is going on? What was I fighting against, that I lost so much blood?

I hit my head against the sink. Nothing. Again. Again. Again. Sink breaks, blood drops and covers the floor by its gooeyness, spiders run off, but I still feel nothing. I lie on my back shaking from inaudible laughter, but blood starts getting into my throat and I choke. I turn to my stomach and unable to spit simply wait for blood to ooze out.

I am so tired. Why am I still conscious? Why am I still alive? Wait, why did I turn to my stomach, if I could just die off right there, choking on blood? What’s that? Is something biting my legs? Spiders? They are not a hallucination? Or is my mind devouring myself now?

Does it matter though? If they are not real, then I’ve already lost it and nothing can save me, and if they are – at least, I sate their hunger. Come, little spiders, feast on me! Grow strong and go destroy this damned world! Maybe… Maybe you will find whatever I was fighting against and screw it up for me.