Novel & Cerita Gets Under My Skin

Frank reached under my shirt to brush against my sensitive skin. “You lack willpower. Let me help you hone it.” I felt him pulling down the straps of my undershirt with his fingers. He was about to slip his hands under my undershirt. Meanwhile, his other hand slid further down my wrinkled skirt and slipped into my soaked underwear.

If he kept talking low and dirty to her, she’d come for sure. “It itches, like a thousand ants are marching over my skin. I need to rub somewhere—anywhere. My muscles are poised just on the edge so that if they tighten even an eighth of a centimeter I’ll explode. I burn inside like a river of molten lava is flowing through my veins.”

I extend my claws yet again, narrowly missing its random grab as it struggles to get away from me. I land right on it, finding purchase in the groove of its muscles. For some reason, I expected its body to be hard with muscles and structure, but my nails pierce right through as though it's made of jelly. I take a closer look as it clumsily tries to grab me, and I see some strange spores on its skin. Almost like mold. They're black and nasty-smelling, clustered in so many places like barnacles. Unable to take the mystery, slice its chest, breaking off its skin.

I pick myself up off the floor, my movements mechanical. The steam still billows in the bathroom, fogging the mirror and reminding me the water is still hot. Without thinking, I step under the stream, letting it cascade over me. The heat should sting my skin, but I feel nothing. Numbness consumes me, though I can see my skin turning pink under the scalding water.

My skin tingled just remembering it, the ghost of his touch lingering like it had branded me. I leaned my forehead against the cool tiles, water cascading down my back. “Why does he get under my skin like that?” I whispered, barely audible under the rush of water. It wasn’t just attraction. It was… electricity. Dangerous. Alive. The kind of thing you knew you shouldn’t touch, but you still reached for anyway. I shut the water off too quickly, like that would cut the thoughts along with it. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped it around me and stared at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. My cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes brighter than they had any right to be.

My blood chills as I try my best not to let the paranoia seep it's bone crushing tendrils under my skin. I like to think I have tough skin but there are some people who knew how to cut deep.

They all looked blurred when I started at their faces. It was a nice trick. That was until I realised they wouldn't let me get the bugs anymore. "No no no." I am screamed. I won't give up, I am determined to get them all. But suddenly there was water everywhere, I was sure at least that I was being hosed down. So someone was finally helping me flush out the bugs. It's not like I hated bugs or was scared of them. I just know that big bugs do not reside under human skin, so if bugs found their way under your skin, it can't be anything good. They must be eating your flesh.

he’s referring to the stud in my nose, “do it to scare people away?” “Well, it obviously isn’t working on my end.” I mutter under my breath, tearing my gaze away. His refusal of a rejection has resulted in me being a bitch. There’s something about him. It’s like he’s under my skin, clawing away at my insides. Like the tickle of fingers gliding across flesh causing goosebumps to break out, but instead of feeling good it makes you want to tear your skin off.

I caught the attention of whatever demons lurked under Greyson’s skin. I step under the cool water and tip my head back. I can’t do hot. Not when I’m burning from the inside out. I brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth until I have no evidence of my physical reaction to my horror. I spit and dunk my face under the stream. And then I scrub. My face, the makeup coming off on my washcloth, my neck, my chest. Every inch of my skin, leaving it pink and tingling. Finally, I feel a little bit more human. I dry off and slip back into the shirt, then go into my room.

After I am done bathing, I get dressed in my Red Silk gown that Borham gifted me . It still fits. I think, as I look at myself in the mirror. Crooked nose. Wrinkled skin. Pitch black balls for eyes, an abyss of dark magic swirling inside. Pale white skin with a pointy chin. Lips the colour of blood. Beautiful. It was a nightmare down there under the grave. How does it feel to be under the soil for more than twenty years with snakes coiled around your body, suffocating you and making you feel ill? I wonder. It felt excruciating. I say.