Scorched flesh

It burned, so bad. I felt the water nearly rip my skin apart, my chapped lips almost sizzled under the heat. My toes wriggled under me, as if to ask me “why? why do we have to go through such pain?” and I didn’t answer them because I felt the pain too. The tap was turned to the left, the cleansing has begun.

I began to slowly melt under the heat. What an angry temperature, it clawed its way across my skin, from back to front. My scalp tingled with the pain like a thousand needles biting through my skin. All I saw as the pink flesh, slowly turning into red spots, their complaints and silents screams. Why? Why do you do this to us?

Redness spread, like the water that cascades down my spine, the spots and dots spread. Burning was a way for sanitation in the past, so it could probably wash away all my pain couldn’t it? Lava, it was like lava tumbling down, the sizzling never stops, and the pain lasts long after I have turned off the tap.

I stood there dripping, like a wet dog panting for air, even that was scorching.

The steam was thick as it fogged up the mirror, and it was hot and heavy.

 

It reminded me of you and how you were my everything, and I turned the tap on again.

 

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