t of my desk, her smil

all, antique apothecary bot

ripping with fake sweetness. "It's a sp

caught in

. The smel

ame rush

asis but worse, erupting across my skin. It was red, raw, and it smelled like rotti

s, their confused faces

ction in the mirror,

d, my boss, looking at me with

from the job I loved, m

ent, ostracized and broken, the foul

ath. It wasn't a disease. It was a curse. A H

my best frie

my looks, my life

I was

s. Smooth, clear skin. N

ive. I w

second

't going t