Germaphobe Book Novels & Stories

Chapped surface, the cracks as it bleed, when she gnawed. She was staring at him, evoking something, her revolt, and for no apparent reason—Germa wanted him on the same state, on the same bloody table like the feeling she seeks in the hospital during an operation. Her palms was itching. And she felt…prod, a goading excitement while she try to remember the feeling of it. The smell of antiseptic, the floor imminent with a strong scent of disinfectant and medicines. To where it lies and buried, Germa had the strong urge to free her hand if she can, and put the misery on him.

The problem was that once I did it, I couldn’t imagine not doing it again. It was like tasting something forbidden and realising it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated germs. The mere thought of coming into contact with anything unclean terrifies me. I’ve spent my life building routines, sanitising every surface, and keeping the chaos at bay. People think it’s perfectionism, but it’s more than that. It is survival. But when I kissed Isabella, none of it mattered.

Elliot smiled as he continued to browse through the books making ourselves comfortable as I went over the book and he still adds more books to the pile. “Sometimes I doubt myself if I have haphephobia. Like, I really don't like being touched and it does make me sick if it's too much, but then I feel like it's just what comes when having panic attacks. There is also my depression and anxiety....” I said quietly for us to hear. “Like it's just so much that it makes me feel like I’m just a label to all these disorders.”

At least, she believed me. “Ugh. Isn’t that like the storyline of every erotica you read?” She asked, ushering me to her room. “You promised to eat with me. Let’s eat. I hope you washed your hands.” She looked down at my hands with clear disgust. She could be a germaphobe. “They’re dry. Did you wash them?” “Yeah. I washed them a long time ago but just kept standing here reading the book. That’s how interesting it is.” “Let’s go.”

Entire paragraphs written like someone had lived through days and nights with this book as their only company. On the edge of one page, someone had scribbled in large bold letters: NOTE TO SELF: NEVER SUMMON A BONE SERPENT IN THE BATHHOUSE. CLEAN-UP TAKES HOURS. A laugh almost slipped out, but I swallowed it. This wasn’t just a spellbook. It was personal. I turned to the back, where one of the later pages was blank except for a single phrase written in looping script: If you’re reading this, don’t trust the quiet forests.

“How long have you been standing there??” He blinks at me. “Since we walked in together?” Oh. I shuffle to the rows of books, hiding my embarrassment behind the endless of rows of books. The smell makes me nauseous. “I think my number one enemy are books.” I say, nose scrunched as I peer at the title spines. Nothing stands out. These books here might be as old as time. “Is this the Commoners section?” I ask them, feeling my brain cells actually coming back being away from Noah infested air.

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Not like me, vibrating with nervous energy, my scent probably broadcasting fear like cheap perfume. *He’s late.* The thought scraped raw. Every minute stretched, elastic and agonizing. Was this part of the punishment? Making me wait, stewing in my own uselessness? Or was he just with Loveth, laughing about the inconvenience? My fingers traced the embossed title on the textbook: *Principles of Modern Genetics.* Words blurred. Concepts felt slippery, distant. My mind, usually a refuge of facts and figures, felt… hollow. Shallow. Filled only with the static of dread and the humiliating memory of Loveth’s smirk yesterday. *Off to hide with the books. Where she belongs.* The flush crept up my nec