Fobia A Los Germenes Novels & Stories

"Oh, yeah. You're allergic to cilantro, right? I was going to put some in the pico, but I thought I remembered that." "Yeah, I am. Completely allergic to it." I am not at all allergic to cilantro, but I hate it. It seems I have the gene that makes that creepy little spice taste like soap or something even worse. I just always tell everyone I'm allergic so they don't add to my food. I've found that people are much more respectful of potential death than they are of something like a gag reflex.

"Denise, I know I might have startled you when I came out like that but I want you to know something. Since I was young, I have never been with anyone, male or female. Not that I couldn't find anyone to love me but it is because I hadn't found the one my heart wanted. You see, since I was young, I had a strong case of mysophobia and more than that, I hate mediocrity. (Mysophobia - an innate fear of dirt and being touched.)

He came close and bent looking into my eyes again. Using his handkerchief ,he cleaned my tears, careful not to touch my face. " You might also know I have Anthrophobia and Derma Allergy. I can't stay around people this close and I can't touch you. I was able to overcome your closeness but not the touch. Do you want to know why?", he asked. I nodded.

"That's fine. I will build it." Suddenly, I wanted to tell him everything about myself. Every single event, my childhood, my dreams, my plans, and my goals. Frowning, I bit my lip and quickly changed the conversation. "I like the color, White. I have trypanophobia which is fear of needles or injections, and ophidiophobia, a fear of snakes-" "Snakes? I think you are not afraid of my snake for sure." He added in between. If I was drinking water, I would have coughed it.

"Why these particular spots, Claire?" "It's a kind of Haphephobia, I guess. I don't really know." "I've studied body language, and, weirdly, I never came across anything about it." I fidgeted, sensing vulnerability in sharing this aspect of myself. "I don't go broadcasting it; it's just a thing I've handled since I was a little girl, you know?"

I am quite sure that there is something deep that has happened with her because of which she has this phobia. As I tried to comprehend the situation, Emma's words echoed in my head. She tried to reveal something about Rose's past, but she was interrupted, leaving me with only fragments of the story. What I understood was that Rose had experienced a traumatic event related to fire, possibly involving the loss of her parents, which had led to her pyrophobia.

“That brat’s always been a bit of a germaphobe.” Beatrice pinched him. “Stop it! Catching a cold isn’t dirty!” Nicole chimed in, “He’s just trying to avoid cross infection, that’s all.” Marlene added lamely, “Yeah, he’s had trauma since watching Resident Evil as a kid, haha…” Candice: “…Ha. Ha.” This was painful. Honestly, the excuses only made it worse. Everyone eventually gave up, mumbled a few more words, and left the room.

It was a bet — a delicate experiment to uncover the root of my genophobia and hasten my forgiveness. As I mulled over this revelation, I found myself surprisingly unperturbed. Usually, the mere thought of sex would send my palms sweating and my heart racing with fear, but this time, I felt no such trepidation. Instead, I was actually considering the idea of trying it with Rominic, my sworn enemy. The very moment this thought crossed my mind, I should have slapped myself and run for the hills, but the urge to flee never even crossed my consciousness. I swallowed hard, mustering the courage to voice my question. "Got any rubber on you?"

Stargazing! That is what they claimed to be doing but April’s eyes were stuck on Uriel’s face, butterflies dancing in her belly. She gradually shifted closer to him, her face moving closer to his as well. “April, do you think you will ever get over your Katsaridaphobia?” Uriel asked. “What’s the meaning of that?” April asked absentmindedly, her thoughts still on him. “Fear of cockroaches,” Uriel answered.

“Lena… does she have any fears?” That seemed to grab his attention. “Fears? Not like?” “Fears.” “Not really. That kid is as tough as nails and…” He trailed off. I could see realization light up in his head. “And?” “She has a phobia. She is claustrophobic.” “Claustrophobic?” “Yes. Never liked tight, confined spaces. She even hates elevators because of it.” I turned off his words as a knowing smile crept on my face. Perfect.