Mitch Grassi
I don't recognize the face looking back at me. And that scares the shit out of me. I can't look in the mirror for fear of it shattering, but I can't NOT look at it. I have to make sure this isn't just an illusion, but my inquiries are answered whenever I run my fingers through the emptiness where my hair used to be. I trace my hands over my arms, inch by inch, feeling where each tattoo used to be. Each thing that I identified with was now gone.
My colorful Spongebob sleeve has been replaced with scars that look like they came from lashes. They look as if they're fresh, but my skin is unaffected by the touch. My cicada on the opposite arm is still there, but it's been segmented, as if each little piece floated away from the body, thus destroying the singing insect. And my beloved Jiji was nowhere to be found. All of my beautiful body art had been replaced with these... meaningless markings.
The most peculiar part about my chest was the outline of my heart. It wasn't the traditional heart. It looked like the actual pumping heart inside my body, but it was black. The ink appeared as if it were oozing out of the source, right where my love of EDM used to flow. And these newly drawn veins wrapped around my neck and ended right at my skull, as if they were digging directly into my brain. My heart beat only black now.
And the worst part about it wasn't even my skin. It was my eyes... beautiful chocolate had been replaced by black velvet pupils and irises that stood out in contrast from the white sclera.
And through these eyes I could only see in black and white.
-.-.-.-.-
"Son, I'm coming home for a few days. One of my clients cancelled and I feel like I've been neglectful as a father. I'll be home on Friday around 5PM. So... see you then."
Beep.
"Hi, Mitch. This is George Hanover, the theater director. I'm just sending you a courtesy call. We haven't seen you in school all week. I'm afraid you've already been missing some very important rehearsals, so if you're not here by Friday your role will have to be given to the understudy. I'm very sorry. Please contact me ASAP."
Beep.
"Son, I haven't heard from you. I just wanted to make sure you're still okay. I'm on my way to the airport. I'll be home tomorrow. I'm even feeling generous. Tell Naomi to take the night off. But only after she makes us dinner."
Beep.
"Hi, Mitch. It's Mr. Hanover again. I'm getting very concerned. You seemed very excited about receiving Anthony... but I'm afraid we're going to have to give it to your understudy. If you come back next week, we can have you be the understudy. We just need to proceed. Please e-mail me and let me know what's going on."
Beep.
"Mitchell, this is your father. Your principal just called me and told me you've missed all week at school. You'd better have a good reason for skipping. Don't you dare tell me it's because you don't care, because I didn't raise a kid to not care about getting his degree. You are carrying on the family business when you get out of there. I still don't get why you're in that arts school. I'll be home later today."
Beep.
"Mitch... I don't even know why I'm calling you, but I'm sort of concerned. Mr. H told me you haven't responded to any of his messages. Your role got revoked, and I'm sad to see you lose it. So, uh, just know we're concerned about you. I'm... I'm concerned about you. I know I don't know you all that well but, uh... oh, this is Scott. I forgot to mention that. Um... well, I hope you're okay. So... bye."
You have no more messages.
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FanfictionThe tattoo grew on my forearm right before my eyes. The red was now gone... completely barren, yet it was the most beautiful part of me now... a tree ready to bloom. The roots of the tree bled into my veins, and the tree seemed to move as if it were...