Jiggle

by Ve Wardh

Image by John Sailer on Unsplash

‘Can you fucking stop?’
 That was something Leah had heard countless times before, yet not in this lecture hall. The dissonance between the all-too-familiar phrase and this setting was jarring. Forcing her leg to an abrupt standstill, she whipped round to glare at the trio of guys a few seats further in the aisle. The one who spoke stared as if daring her to challenge him. When she remained silent, they snickered amongst themselves, each of them emboldened by the reinforcements of the other two than they were when alone. Nobody had verbally called her out here, until now.
 For the next ten minutes Leah concentrated solely on her leg. As was the case every time, she knew if she were to let her mind wander it would start again. The rapid rhythmic shuffling of her trouser leg against the underside of the desk singling her out, prompting glares and pointed sighs aimed in her direction. Her cheeks burned, a result of both the humiliating confrontation with the classmates and her intense focusing on her leg. A wave of pressure built up, welling from the back of her calf, over her knee and enveloping her whole lower leg. Tears pricked Leah’s eyes as she desperately tried to retain her focus on both her lecturer and her now tingling limb.
 The pressure had risen to consume Leah’s lower body. She shifted in her seat to ease the tightness and almost tumbled to the floor. The growing pressure in her legs locked her muscles, her feet jerking stiffly as she attempted to straighten herself out again. As she regained composure, she returned her attention to the lecture. Then she remembered her leg.
 Leah tuned out her lecturer’s voice as she slapped her hands down on her thigh. She’d started jiggling again, but not for long. Yet it was long enough to receive another loud sigh from the group to her left.
 The jiggle had alleviated off the pressure for a few seconds, though Leah winced as it rose again, this time accompanied by sharp shooting pains raking up through her legs. She could hear nothing but the roar of blood in her ears, her rapid heartbeat pounding in unison to the spears of fire pulsing through her limbs.
 She inhaled sharply, attracting cursory looks from her classmates. Not that she could see them now. A thick grey fog had descended over her field of vision. The waves of pressure sending flashes of colour spotting in and out of sight. She blinked, once, twice. Nothing. She let out a stream of air, carefully counting five beats. This was something she’d done before, many time, yet she could never get used to it. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could prepare yourself for, especially the pain. The pain. It was too late now though; it had beaten her. It was happening again.
 The lecture hall was penetrated with a sickening wet rip. At the front of the room, the lecturer stopped mid-word, mouth hanging open as his attention was drawn to the convulsing girl in the back row. All eyes were on Leah as her skin burst open, spraying those around her with ropes of hot blood.
 The three guys in the row near her watched on, faces contorted into silent screams, as she turned her head towards them with a deafening crack. Her gaze locked on the one nearest to her, any emotion she had in her eyes draining, replaced with blood. Her cheeks split wide open as if slashed by a knife, the gashes widening as the exposed pink bone underneath forced its way through. Her scalp slipped off the back of her head, sending a mass of black tendrils swirling to the floor.
 Leah held up her arms, shaking them furiously as to rid them of the last bits of skin, and stood up. The rest of her flesh lay discarded around the desk in clumps alongside frayed strips of clothing and her hair. Her entrails, flung forwards by the impact of her skeleton tearing free, had found themselves strewn across the desk in front of hers like meaty Christmas decorations. The person who had been sitting at said desk slumped unconscious in their chair.
 A scream pierced the silence of the hall, spurring the skeleton into action. With speed and agility that could only be built up from years of such escapes, it dashed into the aisle, the clacking of bone on wood dampened slightly by the spreading blood. Before anyone could react or stop it, it had disappeared through the emergency exit and out into the daylight.
 No one would be distracted by the jiggling now.

Ve Wardh

Ve Wardh is the name of someone who writes stuff, including stuff you might like. When they aren’t writing, they enjoy dissociating and being consumed by intrusive thoughts.