The Growing Infestation

The nights had become a symphony of agony. Sleep offered no respite, only a brief, feverish interlude before the relentless torment resumed. It started with a dull ache, a persistent throbbing beneath my skin that I’d initially dismissed as muscle strain or a bad sleeping position. But it had escalated, transforming into sharp, stabbing pains that felt like needles pricking me from the inside. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, my body contorted in ways that felt unnatural, my breath catching in my throat as phantom shards of wood seemed to pierce vital organs.

Laras, bless her heart, was a constant beacon of concern. She’d found me clutching my side one morning, my face pale and slick with sweat, my knuckles white from the pressure. “Aris, what is it? You’re not well,” she’d whispered, her voice laced with a fear that mirrored my own, though I tried to mask it.

“Just… a cramp, I think,” I’d mumbled, forcing a weak smile. It was a lie, of course. A pathetic, transparent lie. The ‘cramps’ were becoming more frequent, more intense. And then there were the other things. The subtle shifts in my body, the feeling of something alien growing within me.