Beneath the Skin

The itching started three days after the surgery. At first, Dr. Mercer assured me it was normal—just the healing process. But when I felt something move under my stitches, I knew something was terribly wrong.

"It's all in your head," he said during my follow-up. "Phantom sensations are common after extensive procedures." He smiled that practiced smile of his, the one that never quite reached his eyes. "The grafts are taking beautifully."

That night, I couldn't sleep. The itching had evolved into a crawling sensation, as if something was tracing patterns beneath my skin. I took a sleeping pill, then another, but consciousness clung to me like a desperate lover.

At 3:17 AM, I stumbled to the bathroom and peeled back the bandage on my abdomen. The incision was healing well—too well. The scar tissue had an unnatural sheen to it, almost iridescent under the harsh bathroom lights. And then I saw it: a subtle ripple moving across the surface, like something testing the boundaries of its new home.

I pressed my finger against it, and the movement stopped. But when I pulled away, the rippling continued with renewed purpose. Something was inside me, something that didn't belong.