This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/spirewalker on 2024-10-24 18:37:50+00:00.

It all started with a single pimple to on my left cheek. Large enough to notice, small enough to disregard. I ignored it and and continued brushing my teeth. I made sure to wash my face very thoroughly and went down to my car to drive to school.

But as I was backing out of the driveway, I noticed something in the rearview mirror that made me pause. There was another pimple. Slightly smaller, nestled right next to the first one. It honestly freaked me out a bit. I was pretty sure that wasnt there before. But I reassured myself that there was no way a pimple could grow that fast. I must have just missed it in the bathroom.

By the time I pulled into the school parking lot, the pimples had multiplied into a little cluster. About a dozen little orbs of puss, stuck to my face. I decided then and there that something was wrong. I skipped first period and went straight to the nurses office.

“They just came out of nowhere!” “I know it may seem very sudden, but acne is a completely normal thing for kids your age. This isnt nessesarily a typical case of acne, but its not immediately concerning. I would recommend improving your personal hygiene routine. And if the problem doesnt go away, you should set up an appointment with a dermatologist.” She dug around in her cabinet for a moment. “Here,” she said, handing me a large bandaid. “You can cover it up with this.”

As I walked to class, I removed the bandaid from its wrapper and carefully stuck it over the cluster of zits. I felt a swell of embarassment. I probably looked ridiculous. I worried people would stare at me and laugh.

When I opened the the door to Mr. Whitlers history class, everyone fell silent and turned towards me. I was half right; People were staring, but nobody was laughing.

I felt my face flush red with embarassment. My throat burned and I bit back tears. I quickly looked down and hurried off to my desk. I pulled my hood over my head and my head on my desk. It was a solid 20 seconds before anyone spoke.

Mr. Whitler nervously cleared his throat. “Uh… as I was saying, the Native Americans alledged that the United States had violated their treaty by allowing settlers passed…” Most of my classmates attention had turned back to Mr. Whitler, but I could feel a couple gazes straggle on me.

I already knew that the reaction I got wasnt just because of a silly looking bandaid. But that didnt stop my heart from sinking into my stomach as I snuck a peak at my face in the warped reflection of the metalic table leg.

The entire left side of my face was covered in clusters of angry red zits. From the bottom of my jaw to just above my eyebrow, my skin was entirely composed of pimples, none of them more than a tenth of an inch appart. I looked like a mutated, deformed monster from some old movie. I started to feel lightheaded.

…

I waited for class to end. It felt like forever. I didnt look at my reflection for the rest of my class, because I worried that if I did, I would burst out into tears and draw even more attention to myself. When the bell rang, I pushed past everyone else and quickly walked to my car, keeping my head down the entire time.

I knew that by the time I got to the car, I would see that my face had gotten much worse. But when I got onto the jet black asphalt of the parking lot, I realized how much worse it was without even seeing my reflection.

You know how when you close one of your eyes, you can see your nose at the edge of your vision? And it looks out of focus and blurry and it obscures your vision a bit. My vision was obscurred by tiny blurry dots around my eyes, like specks of dirt around the frames of your glasses. I reached up to my face and felt the area around my eyes, and sure enough, there were zits. One protruding out of my upper left eyelid, another nestled into the corner of my right eye. Infact, now that I was paying attention, I realized that when i blinked, I couldnt close my right eye all the way.

I drove straight home. It was one of those drives that seems to last forever. It was like when I was little kid getting sent home from school early for misbehaving, and I would sit in the backseat waiting for my mom or dad to chew me out in uncomfortable silence. Except this time I was all alone.

After I pulled the car into the driveway, I turned of the engine, I googled and called around, and started trying to set up a dermatologist appointment as soon as I possibly could. Eventually, I found a doctor that could see me the next morning at 5am. After I set it up, I just sat in the car for a few minutes, thinking.

God, what will I tell Mom and Dad when they get home? What will they think of me? Maybe this was a silly thing of me to think. They were my parents, of course they would support me and try to help. But I guess part of me didnt want to see them look at me with the same look of disgust everyone else had.

It was around 1:00 when I got out of the car. I realised that I hadn’t eaten all day, so I went to the kitchen and started making myself a peanut butter sandwich. I didnt have the energy to make anything else. As I sat down and took a bite, I felt a sharp pain in my mouth. I rushed over to the bathroom to take a look in the mirror.

The zits had spread from my left cheek, past the center of my face, and were starting to invade the right side. But that wasnt the cause of the pain.

Pimples had begun to grow on my lips. Not just around my mouth area, but on my lips, in my mouth. It seemed like they were made of the same sensitive skin as lips, and were raw looking, almost swollen. One of them, one of the ones on the inside of my mouth, seemed to have popped. I think it grew a little too tall, and when I went to take a bit of the sandwich, I must have bitten down on the pimple. I wiped the pus off of the inside of my lip, wincing in pain a bit.

I went back to my sandwich, taking special care to keep my lips far out of the path of my teeth. Slowly chewed through the bread until i was left with one, final piece.

But as I scarfed it down, a little piece of the bread got caught in my throat. Made sense. I was so afraid of biting my lip I must have not chewed it up properly. It wasnt big enough to choke me, it just went down the wrong pipe.

I went to the bathroom sink to try and cough it up. But it wouldnt budge. I tried hacking it up, or washing it down with water but nothing seemed to work. Infact, it felt like it was getting worse. It was getting harder to breath, and I was starting to panic. Eventually, I decided to shove a finger down my throat to try and make myself gag it up. But the moment my finger brushed up against a smooth lump of skin lodged just within my reach, I realised what was really happening.

The zits were starting to grow on the inside of my throat, and they were big, and getting even bigger. As I felt around the inside of my throat, I realized that there were more. Lots more.

Gagging, I pulled my finger from my throat, gagging and coughing. I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t get enough air. I was being strangled from the inside. And it wouldnt be long before I couldnt breath at all. I started crying in fear, I didnt know what to do, I was dying.

I had one last reckless hope in the back of my mind. A knife. I need a knife. I threw open the bathroom door and ran to the kitchen. I frantically rummaged in the drawer before my fingers curled around the handle of a small knife. I tried to breath out, but I found I couldnt. The pimples had grown into my nostrils, blocking off all air entirely. My throat was blocked off too.

I sprinted back to bathroom, clutching the knife. I hastily stood myself infront of the mirror and opened my mouth as wide as I could, so wide it hurt. I saw the wall of flesh that formed at the back of my throat. As my head started to spin, I reached the knife into my mouth and started cutting.

The blade punctured the wall of pimples like a tomato. The pimples burst immediatly, gushing pus into my throat. The pain was immense and unbearable, I instinctivly recoiled and tried to pull the knife from my mouth but I cut a deep wound into the roof of my mouth. But I wasnt done yet. I had to keep cutting.

I sliced deeper, cutting away the zits crowding the walls of my throat, indiscriminately annihilating everything in my path. I choked and cried and screamed against the vile soup of blood and pus and saliva gathering in my gullet. I started to pass out as I felt the blade stab through my Adam’s Apple. But the last thing I remember is that I just kept cutting.

…

I woke up in the hospital a few days later. Miraculously, I had survived. Mom had come home early and found me bleeding out on the bathroom floor and had immediately rushed me to the hospital.

I have stayed in that hospital for three months now. The doctors have no explaination for what has happened to me. The best explaination they have is that it must be some sort of genetic defect. They say that its probably not actually acne, that it instead might be some bizarre form of cancer. They’ve tried everything to fix it. They thoroughly scrub my face multiple times a day, which usually hurts. They’ve tried injecting me with all sorts of drugs, but none of them work.

I can’t stand it when my family and friends comes to visit. I don’t like seeing them cringe in horror at my condition. I havent been able to speak since cutting into my throat, and sometimes that makes me feel relieved…

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