**_AUBREY_**

My oldest memory is when I was seven.

I had just lost a tooth the night before, pulled it out myself, and my grandma was wiping the blood off my chin roughly. It had dried the night before. I’d forgotten to tell her that I pulled it out before I went to bed that night.

I watched her. Her face was always in a frown. It wasn’t when she was with her friends; only for me, as though I was something to be hated.

It makes sense now. She knew what was inside of me.

My Itch. Such an itchy, itchy Itch.

“Aubrey,” she said, voice low, “Do you know what happened to your parents?”

“Uh-huh.” That was the only response I could do as Grandma scrubbed the rim of my lips so hard I could feel her sharp nail digging into my skin.

“You know that they died in their bed one night. A murderer came in and killed them. But not you.” Grandma stopped and looked me dead in the eyes. I shivered, mouth closing and she stood, never letting go of my gaze. “Why not you? Huh? Tell me.”

“I don’t—“

She slapped me, crisp and sharp. The pain wasn’t there for a brief moment, but when it came, it _burned_. It felt like _fire_. Hot, hot, _HOT_. I wailed and scratched at it as she stared at me eyes blank as I sobbed.

“You do. You do, and I know you do.” She spat at me eyes blank. “Demon child.”

My grandma was very religious. She never took me to church. I wonder now if something there would have changed me. Made me “normal”.

I’ll never know now. Too late. So sad. So itchy.

When I was twelve, I had my first crush.

Talia was in the same grade as me. Puberty had treated her kindly. Round hips and chest, bronze skin beautiful and clear of blemishes, slick hair long and trimmed.

Puberty had slapped me in the face. Too skinny, pale skin paler than paper and speckled with red pimples, dirty blonde hair scraggy and short.

She was the opposite of me: kind, fit, popular, and beautiful. Always so beautiful. She didn’t seem the type to like girls, though. An avid churchgoer like Grandma.

But I had wanted her. Badly.

And that’s when the Itching started. Nagging at the corners of my mind as Death placed a cold hand on my shoulder. It whispered in my ear; I had no choice to obey.

One day, after PE, all the girls were sitting on the ground outside at the track field, watching as the coach blew his whistle and yelled at the boys to keep running, and stop lagging, and _pick up your feet Walter!_

The girls were laughing, close to me but they felt a mile away. I ignored them, letting a ladybug climb on my finger, although I did feel the brush of Talia’s shoes against my lower back.

We all had our outside uniforms on. Mine was big for my size—a spare because my grandmother wouldn’t buy me one—and it pooled over by crossed feet. I watched as the ladybug climbed up my arm slowly, slowly, noting the way Talia’s shoes pressed against me—knowing it was me—before settling.

It made my heart soar.

“So, Talia,” a girl whose name I think was Bridget, though it didn’t matter to me at the time, addressed her, “Do you have a crush?”

The other girls behind me were whispering and giggling. Talia was silent. Maybe she was thinking. I stroked the back of the ladybug’s shell and picked it off of me when it tried to make its way up to my armpit; I set it back down on the grass and looked to the sky, face tilted to hear more of this conversation.

“Yeah.” She finally answered. “I’m not going to tell you who it is, though.”

The girls groaned. A girl named Katie, I think, said. “Come on, Tally! We wanna know, now! You can’t leave things like that!”

Another said, “Come one, we’ll help you.”

And another, “Unless he’s hot—if he’s hot we’re gonna have to fight over him.”

And yet another, “Oh come on! We all know Talia deserves _all_ the boys here.”

I jumped when Talia’s foot tapped against me. She said my name, and it was the sweetest thing.

“Aubrey?”

I almost fainted right there.

I turned slowly, noting how quiet everyone was. Noting how they glared at me as though I had done something wrong; a reason to be hated. They reminded me of my grandmother. I didn’t like that.

So I just focused on Talia. Her caramel gaze. Her long, exposed neck that looked similar to loved chocolate.

I licked my chapped lips, hating the almost audible way they crinkled. “Yes?”

She tilted her head, dark lips spreading out in a gentle smile. “Do you have a crush?”

“Oh”—what was I supposed to say to this? Was I going to lie or not talk at all? Thankfully, something intervened.

I heard a shout from Talia and screams from the girls as a large bulk of something slammed into me, crushing my face against the ground.

“Shit—I’m so— Huh? Oh, it’s you.”

I hardly even heard him. My hands started to shake, red pooling in them as I held them out before me.

“Oh gosh! Aubrey! Are you okay?” Talia rushed forward to me, but I pushed her away.

My whole face hurt—it burned. Hot, hot, HOT!

I turned to see a boy, the one who bumped into me, standing in front of me, scratching the back of his hand and he looked down at the bloody mess I was. “Hey, I’m…sorry, or whatever.”

Ladybug. The red dots on my arms reminded me of ladybugs.

I giggled, seeing the way he cringed away from me as I toddled closer. Something felt _off_. It was clawing at the corners of my mind. Wanting to be let loose—to be FREE.

The coach came up that moment, saw me shaking, bleeding, giggling, and sighed. “Of course it’s her.”

I launched myself at him first—ignoring the screams of absolute terror and surprise as I scratched and bit at his thick throat. Not thick enough because it was easy to tear.

So many ladybugs on my arms now. But I had goosebumps—shivers ran up and down me. I looked back to see other kids running away to the building. All but one.

Talia stood there. Caramel eyes wide and scared, dark lips trembling. I walked up to her and placed a bloody hand on her chin. She allowed it.

I smiled.

She didn’t.

I hate that memory.

I never harmed Talia that day.

I never saw her again after I was…contained.

I wish I could see her again.

But it wouldn’t be healthy. It wouldn’t be good.

With my Itch growing everyday, just one look would be the end of her.

It does make me sad. And mad.

And Itchy.

**¿****ａｕｂｒｅｙ****¿ ****ｌｉｓｔｅｎ，ｃａｎ　ｙｏｕ　ｈｅａｒ　ｍｅ****¿ ****ｙｅｓ，**** ****ｙｏｕ　ｃａｎ．**