The city woke to a symphony of honking horns and sirens, a harsh counterpoint to the whispers simmering just beneath the surface of my skin. Sleep had become a fragile truce, nightmares the battleground where the Abyss gnawed at the edges of my sanity. Today, the infection decided to make its presence known in another way.
It started subtly, a tingling sensation along my fingertips that morphed into an itch, insistent and gnawing. I glanced at my hand, expecting to find a mosquito bite or a rogue splinter, but there was nothing. Just smooth, unbroken skin, yet the itch persisted, burrowing deeper with each passing second.
Anxiety coiled in my gut like a hungry snake. I rushed to the infirmary, Doctor Lee's stern face the only thing grounding me in the face of this unnerving shift. She examined me with the detached focus of a seasoned scientist, her brow furrowed in concentration.
