Haphephobia

Chapter 1

"Geez, Benjamin! Not this again. I swear to god, you're such a girl!" I heard Claire whining right next to my ear. Again. I quickly whirled around to face her, my temper lost and my finger jammed a centimeter from her nose.

"Not what again, huh? Not what? I have something wrong and different about me- I'm so sorry you feel inconvenienced by it. You wanna know what it's like to be me? I'm pretty sure you don't, because then you'd go through the same shit I go through every day! Do you think I don't want to kiss you? Sometimes, I sure as hell do! But I can't! I just can't. So get over it.... Or leave." I exploded. I never talked to anyone like that... Especially Claire. I almost regretted speaking those words the second they flew through my lips.

"Do you really think that? Are you serious? I thought this new thing you 'developed' was just you trying to be dramatic. I never would have thought you actually believed you had this freak thing you call a condition." She spat, and not without narrowing her eyes to dangerous slits. I avoided her eyes, though I desperately wanted to reply with equal venom.

She scoffed, muttered once under her breath about me being pathetic, and walked away. Just like that; she walked away. Gone. Out of my life...

I wasn't sure exactly how I felt, to be totally honest. I liked her a whole lot, and we had been together for... well, over a year. But then I developed this weird thing and she freaks out and leaves. It was just... it was so selfish of her to think that a relationship depends on kissing and holding hands and hugging and just... Couple stuff.

What an idiot.

The sad thing was, that's all I ever told myself anymore. How much of an idiot I was; how stupid I was to think that people could ever really want to be around me, and how lame it was to think about having a real life now that things changed for me so much. How foolishly ignorant I was to believe that people would ever understand what it's like to be me.

"Wait up, Ben!" Came a voice behind me. I winced right off the bat, knowing already who it was. None other than Arthur Whitfield... my ex-best friend. Emphasis on the ex... Since his girlfriend tried to hit on me last summer and he caught her kissing me, not wasting a second to make it my fault somehow, he vowed to make sure my Junior year was spent with a bruised butt and double homework.

"May I help you?" I forced the words out from between my teeth, bracing myself for a hit. It didn't come- at least I could give him the fact that he was smart about when he bullied me. A teacher's class window was three feet from us.

"I heard your breakup with Claire! Man, what a dweeb! She's totally losing it with her friends across the quad. Her makeup ran, like, everywhere, man! I should beat you to a pulp right now for leaving your manners at home." He laughed, punching my shoulder. I braced myself as the shivers, aching, and dizziness coursed through my body after his fist made contact with my skin.

My skin was crawling all over. I could have screamed. I knew if I did I would have made a scene, and with the teacher's window right next to me, I knew I'd land my butt in the principal's office, which couldn't happen because I had a huge Calculus test today. 

Why the hell was everything my fault? Back at the police station when I got beat up, the police blamed me for not defending myself against a woman. Then, I wouldn't kiss Claire anymore so she calls me a drama boy and breaks it off after over a year. Finally, if it wasn't bad enough, I tell someone I'm being bullied and I gotta sit out of class for a million years and miss everything. What kind of stupid, messed-up world do I live in?

"Very funny, Arthur. Leave me alone, I gotta get to my locker." I said, and walked away without sparing a second glance.

I think Arthur must have been disappointed or something for not getting a reaction from me, so the moment he was out of my sight, I received a quick kick in the pants- sending me sprawled out all over the concrete- everything in my hands now scattered in a circle around me. My calculus homework fluttered away in the wind, before finally sticking to a puddle of someone's mushed jelly sandwich. Guess I was getting an F on that one, then...

I had a really hard time forcing myself back up off the ground then. Shivers raked through my spine as though hundreds of snakes were creeping along it. My butt was on fire from the contact, and my breathing hitched. Oh, no... where did I keep my inhaler again?... In the front pocket of my backpack... damn it!... it was seven feet away. I was wheezing now. All of my stupid anxieties were starting to hold my lungs, crushing them. I couldn't draw a full breath. I spluttered.

Not a second later, when I was just starting to black out, I saw a piece of red plastic being put in my hands. I didn't waste the blink of an eye before stuffing it in my mouth and pressing the cold metal button on top...

I took a breath in, held it, then let it out. My eyes closed gently of their own accord, and I rolled onto my back, putting my left forearm over my forehead. Well, that was scary. Who gave me my inhaler...?

I was soon interrupted in my thoughts, however. Something felt weird about me. My skin was still crawling... usually, that feeling doesn't last very long. I opened my eye and looked at my forearm resting above my head.

Right away, I shrieked, before I felt somebody shove a paper towel over my mouth to keep me quiet. I took only a mild bit of comfort in the fact that nobody's actual skin came in any contact with my face.

My arm... Oh, God, how do I even explain it?... It was, like... hairy... and it turned orange or something, like... like a fox's fur. Oh. My hand was literally...

I couldn't think of what it literally was, before I completely blacked out. Nothing to see, nothing to hear... nothing but blackness.

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