DarkCryDot

He looked around, hoping that no one was walking by. After a while of seemingly staring to nothingness he went back in “his room”. In reality it was a apartment room mixed with a office room. It had a bathroom, a kitchen, and a office/work room. With a shaky hand he started to slowly take the white glove off his left hand, pausing at times as if he was worried he might anger some greater being or spirit. He didn’t exactly remember when it started, maybe a few months ago? Either way he couldn’t bear the thought of telling his father about the issue because it meant omitting he had disobeyed his father’s orders. Finally he gained enough courage and ripped off the glove. He tried his best not to scream as he looked at it but even if he didn’t tears welled up at the sight of it. His hand was a bright red with dark crimson vines branching around his hand and wrist, like a creeping plant. It WAS a plant. He knew wasn’t natural. You didn’t need to be a expert to tell the vines weren’t