Flesh Failure Read Free

rejection.
    I ducked my head in the water, pulling mud from my hair, feeling the stitches in my scalp where the hair was sewn in. I cried as I accidently pulled out a small chunk of hair from the back of my head as I wrestled with a stubborn clump of mud and larvae. I stood up in the water and flung it far.
    When I looked down at myself, there was a large black leech on my stomach. It glistened in the sun, pulsing as my blood filled its gut. My fingers tugged at it but the stubborn thing clung. At last, I was able to wrench it free. Blood leaked from my wound. I walked towards a different part of the creek surveying the leech the entire time. My stomach rumbled. The leech had stolen what little blood I possessed. I needed my blood to be returned to my flesh container. Without a thought, I popped the leech into my mouth, being certain to chew it thoroughly so that it couldn’t sink its vile teeth into my stomach. My own blood popped into my mouth as I chewed and I was relieved when I was finally ready to swallow.
    As the leech travelled towards my stomach, I realized how hungry I was. Now that my neurological system was synced up with the rest of me, I was able to recognize some of my pains. Hunger was a growing pain. I’d not eaten since my rebirth.
    More leeches attempted to feast on me and each one met with the same fate as the first.
    I lay in the creek until I was too cold to take it anymore and waded back to shore.
    The crisp winds of fall were dreadfully apparent after my cold bath. There wasn’t much I could do but attempt to take shelter in the trees. Perhaps the mud caking me hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
    With much of the mud loosened, I was able to see myself for the first time. My body was covered in wounds. The pain was coming from patches and a strip of skin, angry raised red welts and stitches. So many stitches. My wrists, my feet, my legs. My breasts were large, jutting out with a hardness that I didn’t recognize, and more stitches around the nipples and underneath.
    As memory flashes burst and fizzled in weird kaleidoscopes of colours, I wondered what had happened to me. What kind of accident had I been in that needed so many stitches?
    The birds twittered at me. One small yellow one perched on my shoulder as I studied my hands. I was too engrossed in the flashes of memories pouring out that I didn’t care about the bird.
    â€œWake up, dammit,” an angry male voice commanded. My mind spun and in the vision, I attempted to open my eyes but they hurt so much.
    â€œMore electricity!” shouted another voice.
    A jolt. More pain.
    The memory flipped to another one.
    White flashes. White noise. Electrical buzzing. Another attempt to open eyes. Very painful squinting only brought more blinding white light.
    Another voice.
    â€œShe’s dead.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œThere’s nothing to be done. That’s all I can offer. My condolences.”
    â€œThank you, Dr. Rueben. You won’t speak of this to anyone?”
    â€œOf course not. We both have our secrets.”
    Voices, more voices, with colours fading in and out.
    I shook my head as the bird pinched my naked shoulder tightly. With a reflex as a cat, I clawed it and squeezed it, its little body limp before I registered what I had done. The birds that had been watching from the nearby treetops flew away in droves, screaming in horror as big black wings flapped through the air.
    I stared at the broken bird as I opened my hand. Its head hung loosely, its wings limp, eyes rolled back. A bit of blood leaked from its neck where I had crushed it. I twisted the head off with my other hand and a bit of blood spilled onto my wrist. I closed my eyes as I popped the bird into my mouth. It was hard work chewing him but not impossible. I tore another piece from him with my teeth. It was easier and allowed for a more manageable bite. Slowly, steadily, my jaws grew used to moving again. Each bite was