"Your anger is getting the best if you," said the woman, "It's eating you up." Then she pointed to the black veins running up my arm towards my elbow... well, what was left of my elbow.
"Lady, if I wanted your advice, I promise, I'd ask for it." I snapped. I waited for the doctor to call my name. Waiting rooms were disgusting, full of abhorrent people and even nastier diseases.
"I'm just saying, it's something you can fix yourself."
"Mind your business, woman." I growled. She raised her eyebrows in a sort of shrug.
"Suit yourself." She mumbled.
Five minutes later, they called me back. I told my physician what was wrong, that part of my body was missing, because of these black veiny webs that were eating my hand and forearm/ elbow.
She said she didn't see what the problem was. She told me to go home and get some rest.
I screamed at her and threw a magazine.
By the time I got home, my upper arm was missing. I kicked my coffee table across the living room. Then threw a vase at my wife.
By the time I got home, my upper arm was missing. I kicked my coffee table across the living room. Then threw a vase at my wife.
By morning, my legs were gone. Eaten up by a cruel, black, tar-like sludge that crawled up my body in the night. I told my wife if she didn't help me, when I got better, I'd fucking kill her.
She rolled her eyes and left me alone, knowing I couldn't get up to come after her bitch ass.
Even though part of me was missing, I still felt like I was there. But, sure enough, I was disappearing.
I suppose the woman in the waiting room was right, I was losing myself to my anger. I suppose that's what happens when you kick people enough times, they write you off and watch you fade away, laughing as you go.
♡
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