I HATE Mushrooms

Chapter One: Breaking News

"No, no, no, no!" She screamed out in pain. She griped the the sides of her head until her knuckles were white. The demons, they were swirling around in her mind once again. Their taunting voices were threatening to kill her. People in the street stopped and stared. Some pulled their phones out and recorded the episode. Her legs became weak and she collapsed to the ground. She pulled at her hair as she hit the ground. She yelped and called for help. A few children who were still out were ushered away by their parents. Businessmen paused their calls until they could hear. She didn't receive help. Red and blue lights filled the empty blackness. Men tried to talk with her, but they could only talk to her body. She couldn't break free. So she met with cold, metal bracelets around her wrists.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Here you go, Cas."

Mom poured me some cereal. She added milk and slid the bowl in front me. I stared at it solemnly. All I could hear was the television, with reporters telling to same story over and over again. I glanced up at it, watching that goddamned video for what felt like the hundredth time. Mom must have seen me looking because she got up and turned it off. I let out a big sigh and laid my head on the counter. I felt her hand on my back.

"This'll blow over in no time. It's like those stupid fads that go around school."

Is that all I am, a fad? One that makes it big and then isn't heard from again? Those trends become cancerous. I would be Renal Cancer. Hard to detect and very lethal. A burden when you finally find out I'm there. I'm a parasite. Crawling through your body and causing all sorts of disorder. I bite on my lip. It's covered in scabs from previous biting sessions. It's all I do when I think too much. It brings me back and tells me human. The metallic taste of blood reminds me that I'm a living creature and not some sort of monstrous idea from a poets mind. That this life of mine is in fact real.

"You're biting again."

I look up at mom as she moves her hand to my arm. She gently rubs her thumb against my sleeve. Her hand is warm like always. It contrasts against my always cold body. I remember when I was younger and I wore jackets during the summer, even in 80 degree weather. Winters were brutal. I'm like never melting ice. Mom gets up and takes my bowl of uneaten cereal. It's turned to mush. It's kind of like my brain, unsavable. She brings it to the bathroom, where she dumps and flushes it down the toilet. She rinses the bowl in the sink and brings it back the kitchen, placing it in the dishwasher.

"You do need to eat something soon. How about we go out for lunch later? We could head to that small family owned restaurant just down the street."

I shake my head. The last thing I need is for people to see me. I'm not leaving this house anytime soon. Mom's smile dissipates into a frown. Her eyes are sad but trying to hide behind light.

"Can we just order pizza?"

She thinks for a moment before nodding. She gets a notepad and pen. I scoot over and pull the second stool out from the bar. She sits and clicks the pen.

"Okay. What do you want on it?"

"Pizza things."

I smile. She rolls her eyes and chuckles. I watch her write down my obvious choices, the ones I always get. The ones that dad used to buy. Pepperoni, Green pepper, and mushrooms. I hate mushrooms with a passion. But they were dads favorite topping. He put them in and on everything.

"Anything else?"

I shrug. I wish my mind was truly still on the pizza. But I had already strayed away.