Honeymoon

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THINGS AREN’T ALWAYS as they appear.

One minute, I’m totally fine.

The next, I’m hunched over and clutching my stomach in sheer agony. What the hell is happening to me?

I have no idea. All I know is what I feel, and what I feel I can’t believe. It’s as if the lining of my stomach is suddenly peeling away with a corrosive burn. I’m screaming and I’m moaning, but most of all I’m praying—praying for this to stop.

It doesn’t.

The burning continues, a blistering hole forms, and the bile trickles out of my stomach with a sizzling… drip… drip… drip… over my entrails. The smell of my own melting flesh fills the air.

I’m dying, I tell myself.

But no, it’s worse than that. Much worse. I’m being skinned alive—from the inside out.

And it’s only just beginning.

Like a firework, the pain shoots up and explodes into my throat. It cuts off all air and I struggle to breathe.

Then I collapse. My arms prove useless, unable to break the fall. Headfirst I hit the hardwood floor and bust open my skull. Blood, plum red and thick, oozes from above my right eyebrow. I blink a few times, but that’s all. The gash doesn’t even factor in. Needing a dozen stitches is the least of my current problems.

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