Island Of The Cryptids

23

"Son," a booming man said. "Listen to me. I want you to understand something about the world. Not everyone is as nice as you. You must know this. I think I've raised you well enough for you to know when to be kind and when not to be."

The room took a dreamlike quality. Hadden felt pulsing all over his body. His father stood before him, leaning against a windowsill, staring out into the blackness of the night.

"But not everyone is going to be like that. Some people are mean. Very mean. They'll cut and kick and put you down until you can't get up. They'll say things that no man should ever say to another. but you can't let that keep you down and out." Hadden's father's voice wavered, his eyes glossy with tears.

"Adults are no better than kids. We do all the things we tell you not to do. We lie. We cheat. We're rude and hurtful. It's almost like we've forgotten the very values that we preach. We raise you kids to be the best people you can be, in hopes that you don't turn out like us." His father swallowed a shaky knot in his throat.

"I just don't want other people to change the way you are, my boy, and you need to be who you are no matter what."

Hadden repeated his father's words in his head. He felt so sick. So very sick. His throat was dry and chafing. He felt the smooth lining of his esophagus tearing, leaking with blood and skin. He felt the chalky film slip over his grainy tongue. His eyes were sagging, watery and brimmed with tears. His stomach churned, and he tasted bile. His skin peeled, chalky and redding. He blushed a sour red all over his body, and his hands, arms, and legs were caked with congealed blood.

Thorns crunched into his hand, stabbing him. Blood poured out, and he didn't feel it. His entire body felt numb. His stomach felt warm and sloshy, the bile churning inside it. His legs were tattered, the hairs wetted down with mud and soil. His nails were pried back, caked with dirt and splintered.

He crawled across the jungle floor. He couldn't give up like this. He had to find shelter. He was going to die if he didn't. He had to outlast the storm, survive the night, and get back to the group to prove he wasn't sick with this parasite.

Rain drenched him. He was so sick. But he found some strength left to climb to his feet. Then he hobbled onwards, filled with determination.