5.2 | Algae

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The Algea:

The three daemones, or spirits, of pain and suffering

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Soundtrack:

Oceans – Seafret
In Your Hands – Joshua Radin
TBC.

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Achos:

Spirit of trouble and distress

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~ July

Red. Everything was red.

Leo Castaneda was bent over the white porcelain of the bathroom sink, his hands clutching the cold edges of the basin. Powerful, painful coughs were wracking through his body, shaking him to his very core. Leo retched and spit into the sink, hoping that the acrid coppery taste in his mouth wasn't what he thought it was, and wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand.

He opened his eyes and promptly wished he hadn't.

Blood was splattered inside the sink, marring the clean white bowl. He glanced down at the back of his hand and sighed – there was blood smeared on his skin.

Leo grasped the silver knob and twisted it, turning the faucet on. He watched as the clear liquid splashed inside the sink, turning pink when it came into contact with the blood. He placed his hand below the water, relishing in the feel of the cool liquid against his clammy skin and gratefully watching the blood disappear.

Once all the blood was gone, Leo cupped his hands below the faucet and splashed water onto his face, a contended sigh escaping his lips at the change in temperature. He looked up, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror.

He hardly recognized himself.

A twenty-one-year-old was staring back at him – not quite an adult, but no longer a teenager. A sloppy mop of inky black hair was matted down on his head with sweat, the perpetual strand of hair that normally curled on his forehead hanging limp against his skin.

Dark circles rimmed his deep forest green eyes, making him appear older than he was. White, chapped lips blended into ashen skin, a stark contrast to his normal golden tan. His cheekbones jutted out from his skin, not in an attractive manner, but in one that made him remember that he was losing weight at an alarming rate.

Leo sighed, unable to admit to himself the simple fact that he was ill, and quite seriously so.

He grasped the edge of the mirror and tugged on it gently, revealing the hidden medicine cabinet built into the wall. He dug around until he found a bottle of painkillers left over from a few months back when he broke his wrist, playing fetch – of all things, fucking fetch – with Lucky, his girlfriend's roommates dog.

Twisting the top open, Leo poured out two small white pills onto his hand, then rethought his decision and grabbed another pill. Throwing the pills into his mouth, he held his hands under the steady flow of water and brought a handful into his mouth, drinking deeply. Leo swallowed the pills, then twisted the faucet knob, turning the water off.

An exasperated sigh left Leo's lips as he closed the cabinet and looked back at his reflection.

"Get it together Castaneda. You got this. You are not sick."

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