Mad

• Anne Liu, Grade 9, Firbank Grammar School -
• Short Story
• 2022

Excellence Award in the 'Unleashed 2022' competition

Dull red, unforgiving scars are sprinkled over my body, drawing rigid lines, and creating bumpy patches everywhere.
My skin is sensitive and raw as if it has been peeled off, torched upon a volcano and slapped back onto me. It’s a feeling unlike anything else. I’m frantically scratching and gnawing at my skin as if trying to tear away layers of myself for that moment of relief.

My hands can do nothing but mercilessly claw at my body. It’s the arms, then the legs, then the stomach. I’m still scratching one area when another part of my body starts feeling fiery and itchy. Before my mind comprehends it, my hands are flying to that area, desperately scratching, and willing the pain to dispel. I cry out in pain, for there aren’t, and never will be enough hands for me to scratch all the areas that desperately need it.

I pause for a second to catch my breath, as my arms start to feel heavy. The world is silent aside from the ragged pants escaping my mouth and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, marking the relapses of this torture I would inevitably endure day after day until it completely broke me.

I’m vividly aware of all the places on my body it has infested. Along the arm, behind the knees, and around the stomach. It’s an agonising ache and I’m compelled to scratch at it again. My brain is telling me not to give in, but after barely a single second of deliberation, the rest of my body disobeys this instruction, because it’s honestly more of a recommendation at this point. I resume clawing away. I’m tired and bothered yet there’s nothing I can do to help ease the pain.

My parents witnessed my suffering with distorted and pained expressions on their faces. It’s a look of despair, hopelessness and almost guilt, for they can do nothing to relieve this torment, despite being torn at the inability to help their daughter. Thick creams are slathered on, and bitter medicines are stuffed into my mouth, but it’s useless.
Whilst the sun sets on the horizon, I’m still there clawing and crying through the night. The earth can do a complete spin, yet eczema will still cast a blazing trail of pain on my skin, leaving me gasping for air, and wondering when I will ever be able to rest.