At night, the bugs crawled out of the walls. They tickled up her legs and arms and bored into her ears. They buried themselves in her body, using nostrils, mouth and even the corners of her eyes. There they lurked.
Come morning, she was full of bugs. She did not see the small holes they left all over, but when she drank water it spit back out of her from a million tiny punctures.
She panicked, trying to cover the holes with makeup, clothing, putty. Nothing worked. Everything she drank leaked back out. She looked like a lawn sprinkler.
She considered accepting this new body, this new life. But the holes nagged at her. She picked and prodded, trying to figure out how they didn’t kill her while still letting vitality drip from her pores. But every time she thought she discovered their secret, they sealed themselves against her again.
Contemplating the futile struggle before her, she ran.