div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX1 SCXW87327108" style="clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent;"
p class="Paragraph SCXW87327108 BCX1" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent;" xml:lang="EN-US"span class="TextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times New Roman,Times New Roman_EmbeddedFont,Times New Roman_MSFontService,Serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 20.5px; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US" data-contrast="auto"span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" style="background-color: inherit; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;"Her head had been itching all day. It started as a small tickle at the back of her head. But, now, hours later it was driving her mad. She had broken two nails already trying to scratch it. True, she didn't have great nails to begin with, but this was still getting to be too much. She had used a double mirror method to look at the spot, no rash, no dry skin. Why the hell was she so itchy? She had flashes in her mind of old sci-fi properties where the main character had been implanted by an alien. A foreign piece of unearthly metal that no one was able to identified, so they would simply catalogue it as unknown, and seal it away. She gave out a small laugh, and then it wasn't so funny. She knew that wasn't what this was, but she still didn't need to think about things like that right now. She had already been feeling a little to paranoid lately, and why not? The world was burning, and she never really trusted it to begin with. She had spent the past few hours trying to cope, unsuccessfully. She had attempted to distract herself with music, but she could practically hear the itching drowning out The Strokes. She contemplated shaving her head, maybe she could become a hat and scarf person, but no, she just knew she would miss her hair, what else would she play with and smell when she got nervous? By this point she had scratched her head raw. She felt at any moment she might feel bone beneath her fingernails. She searched every cabinet and drawer for anti-itch cream. After looking everywhere that it should be, she knew where it must be so she got down on her stomach and began to rummage under the bed for it. By now she really should have known better than to put anything on her nightstand, it was all bound to wind up under the bed sooner or later. After moving around a half dozen things that should have been cleaned out from under there weeks ago, she found the tube half empty and rolled up. Somehow it was just out of reach. How could it have gotten that far under there by itself? She went into the kitchen and got the broom. Luckily only the top was broken off of it, and not the whole handle. After recovering the tube, and doing a small victory dance. She parted and clipped her hair and began to apply the cream, but this time she felt something. A small bump where there hadn't been one before. She got out her mirrors again and looked. This wasn't a small bump, it felt small but was at least an inch in diameter. She couldn't just let this go. She couldn't let anything go. She went to the kitchen and got her penknife out of the junk drawer. She made a small pinprick sized hole at first, she didn't want to go overboard. She squeezed it between her fingers, but nothing came out. She squeezed a little harder, and let out a small whimper. It hurt quite a bit, but she wasn't one to give into pain or show what she perceived to be weakness. Still nothing came out. She decided to extend the hole into a slit, if it was a small cyst then she would need to be able to extract it. She then realized that she should probably have put on gloves. She went to the closet and grabbed some latex gloves. Then she went back to the mirrors. She started to squeeze again, but the itching felt different. It sent a chill down her spine. It felt like her brain itched. Like something was crawling around in there. She looked in the mirror and saw something starting to come out. But it wasn't a cyst, or pus, or even blood. It was tiny legs. She closed her eyes in disbelief. Clearly, she had to be seeing things. Suddenly they shot back open, she could feel the skin pulling further apart. There were legs coming out of the opening. How many? 10? 12? What the Hell was going on? Now she could feel it in her whole head. She could feel her skull filling up, cracking. The wound burst open now it was two inches wide. She could see what they were. Baby cockroaches started pouring out of her head, she fell to the floor screaming, tearing at her head, she had to get them out, all of them. She grabbed for the penknife and slit the cut open a little more trying to dig them out of her head. She could hear them crawling around inside her head and skittering all around her on the floor. She couldn't take this anymore. Eventually she passed out. A few hours later her roommate came home and found her /span/spanspan class="TextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri,Calibri_EmbeddedFont,Calibri_MSFontService,Sans-Serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.42px; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US" data-contrast="auto"span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" style="background-color: inherit; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;"unconscious on the floor, an empty pill bottle on the floor next to her, and a puddle of blood creating a halo around her head. She tried to wake her up but couldn't. She rolled her over and saw a huge cute on the back of her head. When she looked closer, she could see bone. Had she cut herself down to the skull. She grabbed her phone and called for an ambulance. It arrived within half an hour and took them to the /span/spanspan class="TextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri,Calibri_EmbeddedFont,Calibri_MSFontService,Sans-Serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.42px; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US" data-contrast="auto"span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" style="background-color: inherit; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;"hospital;/span/span span class="TextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Calibri,Calibri_EmbeddedFont,Calibri_MSFontService,Sans-Serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.42px; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US" data-contrast="auto"span class="NormalTextRun SCXW87327108 BCX1" style="background-color: inherit; -ms-touch-select: none; -ms-user-select: text; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;"she was pronounced DOA. Her roommate remembered the pill bottle in her pocket. She turned it over and saw that it was her roommate's antipsychotic meds for her schizophrenia, and it was out of refills. She was always so bad about calling in refills./span/span/p
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