Halloween Horror Special 2021 part 2
Just Fall Apart
He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, from a dream—no, a nightmare. A horrid nightmare. As he jolted up, he made a sharp gasp. Collecting himself, he turned his head to look at his clock and out the window. It was still night. It was nothing; just a false start to the day brought about by a meaningless, albeit briefly startling, dream. He had the leniency of at least a few more hours of rest. For now, all was good.
Hours later, he woke up to his alarm. Blasted alarm. His back hurt, as it did every morning, before he even sat up to get out of bed. Such was the reality of life and of getting old. But, for at least a few more years now, he still had to get up to go to work. He sat up, reluctantly, and turned. A sharp pop and a brief pain in his left knee as he started to put his feet down on the ground. That would be the new normal from now on, he mused to himself… but this pain felt strange in some way. The type of pain felt different, lingered just a bit longer.
He disregarded his discomfort as he got ready for work, same as he did every weekday. He crammed himself in his just-slightly-too-small car and began his half hour commute. His vehicle was always a bit uncomfortable—he could afford to upgrade for at least another year or so, something he had told himself last year, not to mention the year before, verbatim—but today it felt particularly constraining, like he was a contortionist trying to fit himself into a box just a little too tight for comfort. He cursed his misfortune, as he did almost every day where he remembered to do so. He had never wanted to end up as a professor teaching psychology at a perfectly mediocre university; he just fell into the role because no other opportunities presented themselves readily. As the years passed he simply accepted his fate. As he got older, riskier job opportunities he might have taken when he was younger no longer seemed appealing. He liked the security his position brought, even if it wasn’t exciting or particularly fulfilling, not to mention the fact that the compensation was much less than what he felt it should’ve been after all his loyal years of teaching. He got good reviews every year. Not the best of the bunch in the grand scheme of things, but high enough to where he was considered a mainstay of his department.
As he adjusted his left leg in his vehicle, he once more wondered where this sudden, unusual pain came from. He was active enough, sure, and his job wasn't even particularly strenuous, mentally, physically, or otherwise. The most physically demanding part of his job was hoofing it between his office, the university's main lecture hall, back to his office, then whatever classroom the power that be had deigned to assign to him for his next class. Sometimes stairs were even involved. Every year he always taught at least one section of an introductory psychology class, along with a section of an upper division class. This year, he taught Sleep Psychology and the Analysis of Dreams.
Once he reached campus, he headed straight for his office, but he wasn’t there for long. Not even long enough to rest and take a seat. As he walked across the gentle yet somewhat hilly field that served as the center courtyard of the campus, he suddenly felt a pop in his ankle as he set his foot down on a slope. He stumbled slightly but caught himself before he took a tumble. The pain wasn't just a single pop, but felt like a series of small fireworks rapidly popping one after another in his ankle. He groaned as he clutched his ankle while sitting on the ground and waiting for the pain to subside, which it did before long. However, even as he stood up and attempted to keep walking, his ankle felt weak, like something had come undone that shouldn’t have. He resolved to visit the campus health center before the day ended; but first, he had a lecture to give. He limped his way across campus and up the stairs.
He usually stood for most of his lectures, only sitting when he was particularly exhausted or when his immediate focus wasn’t needed; today, however, he sat for most of his lecture. Putting too much weight on his leg was painful, and every time he stood, he wobbled hesitantly. The two hours of the lecture dragged on longer than it usually felt. His mind was preoccupied the whole time with the nagging pain radiating up and down his leg at irregular intervals. He let the lecture out 10 minutes early, not just because he finished all his material, but also because he wanted to deal with his pain as soon as possible.
He went into the campus health center. It was empty today, so he was able to head right back. He was seen by a medical student, a kid who was in one of his classes a number of years back when he was still pre-med. After a brief exam, the student sat down and relayed his findings.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” the student said, “this is extremely unusual. If you showed any sort of history with this type of thing, I might be able to give you a better idea of what you’re dealing with. On first inspection, I’d say that the joints in your left leg are falling apart in a way that one might expect with Ehlers-Danlos, but you don’t exhibit the symptoms of any of the other types. To be safe, I’d go see a doctor and get some thorough tests done.”
As soon as he got home, he made an appointment with his doctor. The date was two weeks out, but he figured he would be all right until then, as long as he didn't abuse his leg.
********************
The next morning, he woke up in pain. Both his legs hurt, and the pain echoed through his back, which was already hurting by itself. As he tried to turn to get out of bed, his whole body ached. He began to set his left foot down on the floor, but simply moving his leg hurt, let alone the pain of touching his foot on the ground. He retracted his foot. Even his right leg felt tender and weak. He lay down flat on the bed once more. If nothing changed by tonight, he thought, he would call in sick to work, get them to find a replacement for a week or so; but he couldn't simply cancel class today. At least, he didn't want to.
He phoned up one of his friends. He would help him walk and drive over to the university safely. He always had a wheelchair and a set of crutches handy for emergencies.
His friend arrived, concerned.
"Are you sure everything's ok?" his friend asked. "You injure yourself or something? Just the other day you seemed fine."
He tried to brush it away, saying that he had simply not been feeling well lately in an unusual manner, and assured his friend he had already made the necessary arrangements to get checked out as soon as possible. They tried the crutches at first, but even the crutches felt uncomfortable under his arms, like they were digging into his flesh, his muscles, and his joints and tearing away at them every time he leaned his weight on the crutches. Instead, they opted for the wheelchair; regardless of how much of a scene it might make with the students around campus, it was the only viable option they had. And so, he made his way to work. The students would understand.
As he was wheeling himself around campus, his arms began to make audible popping sounds, each snap accompanied by discomfort. As he was teaching, the noises continued irregularly. He tried his best not to show the pain on his face. His students were clearly already well aware he wasn't in great shape. He couldn't let it affect the quality of his teaching.
At the end of the day, he made his way back home. As the day had carried on, his left leg felt progressively weaker. As he wheeled up to his front door, the leg felt numb and flimsy. It sort of dangled around, like the muscles had unraveled and the bones had begun to liquefy. Part of him realized that he should do something about it right away, but his stubbornness prevailed. He assured himself he was fine, that he could wait. He was feeling tired and drained anyway. Maybe all he needed was rest, and he’d feel better by morning…
He carried himself over to his bed, then got in. He groaned as his shoulders hurt and felt weak. He huffed and gasped for breath. He was tired, so strangely tired… sleep washed over him before too long.
********************
He suddenly awoke in the middle of the night in agony. Pins and needles pain wracked his body from his toes to his shoulders. His left leg especially felt weird, like he felt all the pain from before in his leg, but at the same time he couldn’t really feel the leg itself. With what little strength he had, he tossed his blanket off as his arms quaked and shook at any bit of movement. Dark as it was in the room, he could still see what was underneath from the light outside. His left leg, or rather, what remained of it, looked like a string of pencil shavings with thick goops of flesh and blood clumped on the sheets beneath. He gasped, an attempt at a scream, the most sound he could get out as his chest burned and his lungs seized up. He reached out for his phone in the darkness, and that was all he remembered…
He woke up in the hospital. A team of doctors and nurses was standing over him. As he opened his eyes and tried to sit up, they all jumped to alert. Much of the pain he felt earlier was gone, although his body still ached all over. He opened his mouth and gasped.
“Sir, don’t try to talk,” one of the nurses said. “We don’t know what’s going on with you, but we got you stabilized from earlier when you first came in. You managed to call just in time; you probably would have gone into shock if you had waited any longer. We amputated the remnants of your leg. We’re keeping an eye on your body for any further changes.”
This did not reassure him. But he had no other choice but to remain.
********************
That night, he dreamed he was at home once more. Everything was normal. He woke up normally, had breakfast like any other day. He started to brush his teeth, but as he did so, something felt off. He spit into the sink, and blood mixed with foam landed in the sink. His teeth felt strangely unsteady. He looked in the mirror, and his gums were bleeding at the edges of his teeth. He reached into his mouth and felt his teeth one by one. They all felt loose, wobbling like they could come out at any moment. His fingers gripped a tooth, and then…
He jolted up again, gasping. It was still late, definitely before sunrise. The room was cold. He reached for a mirror by the side of his hospital bed, his arm shaking the whole time. He held it up, shaking, and opened his mouth. Everything seemed fine, but just to be safe, he reached his thumb just inside his mouth. The tip of his thumb touched against the bottom of one of his canines. He gently nudged it back and forth as a test, and…
CRINK. The tooth broke off from his gums and fell down into his lap. Gasping, he put the mirror down and reached for the metal tray by the side of the bed. He picked the fallen tooth up and dropped it in the tray with a dull “clink.” He picked up the mirror again. The action had already loosened some of his other teeth. He dare not close his mouth for fear all his teeth would dislodge. A sick curiosity came over him. He reached his hand into his mouth once more.
CRINK. CLINK. CRINK. CLINK. CRINK. CLINK. CRINK. CLINK.********************
The days passed. Sometimes he heard them talking out in the hallway.
“This isn’t like anything we’ve ever seen before. We don’t know what’s going on, and worst of all, nothing we’ve done has been able to stop it.”
As his limbs numbed one by one, his other senses began to sharpen. Everything was always too bright. He could hear things from farther away. The pain he felt sharpened even as they increased the dosage of the pain medication they had him on. The feeling of the bed rubbing against his body as he writhed in agony. All the while, he continued to fall apart piece by piece. First his other leg, then bits of his lower torso started to peel off. His right arm was losing feeling by the day, almost a relief as the pain he felt in his arm and shoulder sharpened suddenly. He was in and out of surgery to try and remove the peeled skin before it started to decay. Every day, new doctors came in to suggest or try new treatments. Nothing worked. He was losing hope. Every day felt more and more like a haze. Every day, he felt less and less human, and more like a hazy blob that was simply seeping apart.
Night after night passed. He had lost his right arm a few days ago. It peeled apart as he was awake to witness it. The skin tore slowly at first, and then ripped apart with force. Everything else that was once inside dripped down sloppily or just plopped downward. His screams alerted the nurses on call. Now, not much of him was left. His insides burned. As he lay there, gasping and fighting for every breath of air, thinking about being brought to this wretched, loathsome state, he felt his insides turning. He groaned gently. It hurt too much to do anything more. He felt twisting and turning, and melting inside of him. It started down below, in his intestines, and slowly worked its way up, through his stomach, lungs, heart, up his throat like burning fumes, and even up in his head. His head felt full, like his skull would burst at any moment. He wailed loudly. His remaining arm throbbed.
Was this the end? His body pulsed. He tore at his hospital gown, managing to peel it off with strength that he thought had left him. He twisted and turned in the bed as lines formed all along his skin and his insides trembled and gurgled as they expanded and melted.
The pain!!! He screamed as his skin ripped at the seams, like someone was ripping apart leather with their bare hands. His arm ripped apart and viscous liquid poured from the tears in his body. He lost all feeling in his arm, but it was quickly replaced by a pain that consumed him. It had to be just a dream, yet another horrific nightmare!!! He screamed one last scream before he could make no more noise as his deconstruction completed itself and the last of his remnants peeled themselves apart from each other.
But he never woke up, for it was not a dream.
STAY TUNED FOR PART 3: THE BLEAKEST CHAMBERS OF THE HEART'S DESIRE