Chapter 28:
Horrid 24. A Map of the Scars You Haven’t Gotten Yet
HG's horrid shorts
I found the parchment in a copper tube. It was a detailed anatomical drawing of my own body, but it was covered in jagged red lines, numbered and dated. I looked at my arm—perfectly smooth. Then I looked at the map: Line 14. November 12th. Deep laceration. I laughed, until I tripped on the stairs five minutes later. A broken vase sliced my forearm in the exact spot, the exact length, and the exact depth of Line 14. I looked at the map again, my blood dripping onto the parchment. The lines go all the way to 100. Some are small—slight burns, surgical nicks. But there is a thick, black circle around my throat dated Today. I’ve spent the last three hours locked in a padded room, but the map is starting to glow. I can feel the skin on my neck beginning to itch, a thin red line appearing like a ghost’s necklace. The map isn't predicting the future; it’s demanding it.
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