𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 || 𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up, flushing the toilet. I looked in the mirror, my eyes red and cheeks stained with tears as snot dripped from my nose and my hair stuck to my forehead. I lifted my shirt and looked at the bandages, slowly unraveling them with shaky hands. I stared at the incision on my stomach and shoulder, at a loss for words. I immediately ran back to my desk and picked up Hisashi Ogura's book, continuing to read it.

'It is said ghoul's are not able to be injured by weapons such as a basic kitchen knife or razor blade. Though normal looking, their skin is extremely tough and cannot be pierced through by an average blade.'

I stared at the words on the page, my grip on the book tightening the longer I looked at them. Angry, I threw it across the room and it hit the wall with a loud thud. I stood up, causing my chair to fall over and I ran to the kitchen once again to grab a knife from the cutlery drawer.

If what that damned book said is true, then...

My heart raced as I looked at the blade, seeing my reflection. My breath caught in my throat when I looked at myself, only to be met with a sight that would forever occupy a part of my mind.

The sclera of my right eye had gone black and my pupil turned a deep crimson, red veins running down my cheek. My mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound came out. My hands trembled violently as I stared at the hideous sight for a few moments before shaking my head in denial.

"No, no, nonononono... this can't be fucking real." I whispered, bringing the knife to my forearm. "This isn't real, it's not. I'm dreaming. Wake up, wake up, wake the hell up you stupid bitch!" I hissed, shaking as I held the knife above my skin. Ogura's words echoed in my mind, over and over again.

Sense of taste... putrid and sour... can't be injured... Sense of taste... putrid and sour... can't be injured... Sense of taste... putrid and sour... can't be injured...

I raised the knife up, hesitating for a split second before I quickly brought it down in one swift cutting motion.

Crack.

I watched in disbelief as the blade shattered. The broken pieces of steel flew around the kitchen, littering the floor. I looked at my arm; no cut. Not even a scratch. My body went limp and I leaned against the counter, staring into space. I couldn't even bring myself to cry at this point- what good would that do anyway?

I shuffled back to my room and stared at myself in the mirror once again, taking in the sight and making sure I wasn't dreaming.

Nope. I'm very much awake.

．．．

A week later...

I laid in my bed, unable to move. I watched the clock hand, staring as it ticked. I felt awful. My head was a mess and so was my life. Everything had been flipped upside down in the span of roughly two weeks, and I couldn't figure out why. I couldn't bring myself to get up or do anything. My body felt weak, and I haven't been able to eat anything over the past few days. Fumiko had tried visit me a few times, but I never answered the door and told her I was sick. I just couldn't.

Not after what I figured out what I had become.

I grabbed my phone off the bedside table, staring at the various texts from Fumiko. She told me me she would be going on a second date with the guy she told me about tonight. She mentioned some sort of event and that she had to dress up for it. She had invited me but I didn't respond out of fear. Still, she texted me the location and told me to come if I felt like it. I didn't. But I had ignored her for so long it'd be wrong of me to decline.

Reluctantly, I sent her a text back saying I'd go.

Ding.

I read the reply from Fumiko.

Awesome! Hope you're alright :( Make sure to dress nicely, k?

Slowly, I sat up from my bed and looked down. My stomach grumbled and I gritted my teeth angrily, trying to ignore the sound as I buried my face in my hands. I stood up on shaky legs and dug through my closet, pulling out a simple black cocktail dress. I put it on and stared at myself in the mirror. I was thin and paler than usual and my hair was a mess. I looked like a walking corpse.

I opted to put on some makeup to help me look more alive and I lightly curled my hair. I slipped on a pair of studs and a necklace before grabbing my purse and phone again before checking the location of the event that Fumiko had texted me. I headed out and flagged down a taxi and I slipped into the back seat, messaging her that I'd be there as soon as possible. I silently stared at the people and other drivers on the road, my stomach once again rumbling.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the ever growing sensation of hunger.

This isn't right. I'm a human.

"But humans don't look at other humans and think of devouring them, do they?" Said a female voice in the back of my mind.

My eyes snapped open, only to find myself surrounded by a dark abyss that never seemed to end. I quickly scanned the area, my head whipping around with my heart hammering in my ears. I glanced down, looking at my shaking hands. They were covered in blood. In fact, the entire ground surrounding me was covered in it. I felt my throat close up at the sight as I nearly fell backwards.