Scabs - One Man's Torment
Will’s day at work was the same as any other. Mountains of paperwork to sieve through, finally finishing them at the stroke of five only to have no appreciation from his superiors or co-workers. The office was a stuffy place, not airy or clean but dusty and glum. Will, regardless of the weather wore long sleeved shirts to work, top button done up to hide what was underneath.
No one paid much attention to him. He was in his early twenties but never socialised with his peers, he didn’t really socialise with anyone. He had an old friend that would come to his house every so often to play computer games but that was the only time he had true human interaction. The people at work were like strangers, the only person he knew most about was the person who gave him the most attention and that was not positive attention either. Danny always seemed make everyone else laugh except from Will.
Will was shy, he had a secret that he wanted to keep under wraps, literally, which is why he is forever covering up. It was summertime in London and this irritated Will’s skin under the layers of clothes he wore, it also irritated him because everyone else were able to flaunt their bodies in public whilst he didn't even want to leave the house. It was Friday and he was going home and staying there until Monday.
What kept him indoors were red and crusty, flakey and sore. The circular patches on his head, arms, legs, back and torso, scatter his body like spots on a leopard. That night, Will applied the greasy cream to each spot individually before climbing into bed. His skin was uncomfortable to live in - tight and dry and itchy. The cream made him feel soothed but dirty. The room where he lay is stuffy, muggy and stale. Too hot to bare on this summers night, the sun’s rays had warmed up the small box room like it was preheating an oven. Will’s skin became even more irritated by this close humidity. He itched and scratched, white flakes fell to his shoulders and danced in the air with the dust.
As his body slid onto the sheets he felt slimy. Not one position he laid in was comfortable and he could not sleep. His mind raced with frustration and his fingernails raced up and down his skin. He wanted to be skinned alive.
Drowsy from no nights sleep, William looked out into the garden from his window. The sun was bright and it was strong. His bedroom was unbearable, but he needed to wait there. Over the fence he spotted his neighbour, Julie, sunbathing. Slender and golden she lay on top of a towel on the grass, her skin glistened in the sun - clean and smooth, untainted. How soft she looked and so comfortable, able to lay with no shame. She lay face up with sunglasses on, her bright fair hair held back with a band, only a few strands fell over her symmetrical, unblemished face. Will envied her beauty and her comfort. His face nor his body will ever be symmetrical, the scabs did not allow it. He wanted to go into the garden and speak to her but he was shy, he wanted to whip off his shirt in the sun, but he was ashamed. He stared longer than he should have, before realising himself and turning away, hoping Julie had her eyes closed under the shades and could not see him spying from his window like a creepy peeping Tom.
Will cast his eyes over the fence again, Julie had gathered her things and went inside. Will was suspicious, perhaps she had seen him. Five minutes later Will heard a car start up around the front of the house. He stepped across the hall into the spare room that overlooked the street to see Julie pulling off the driveway. At this moment Will decided to tackle this skin problem. Next time Julie was sunbathing in the sun, he wanted to do it next to her.
Will sped into the garden, equipped with his skin cream. The sun felt even stronger in the open air - it was bright without shield from cloud - perfect for burning off scabs. He gently applied his cream to each scab, careful not got any on his skin. He then lay in the sun, waiting for the sun’s U.V. rays to cook him.
The cream magnified the rays and Will could feel the heat on them. It felt satisfying to know the scabs were in pain and what the rays may be doing to the rest of his skin was not a bother. Every inch and every layer of his skin was to blame for his torment. There was no winning, every cell of his skin was capable of creating these monsters. His whole body needed to be punished. Will laid on the grass and cooked.
Will had a worse night sleep that night. His skin was tighter than normal and far more dry, however, the next morning the scabs had either reduced or disappeared and what was left was a white circle of skin surrounded by lobster red sunburn. A concoction of cream, U.V. and vitamins from the sun had worked. Elated, William’s first thought was to show off his new found freedom. He skipped to the local swimming pool to show off his new skin complexion. Not one person there would care, yet to Will this was a rites of passage. What Will failed to notice was that skin was still as peculiar as before, just in reverse, a negative had been created in the sun. Instead of a leopard, Will not looked like a toadstool. Overwhelmed at finding a cure, Will bombed into the swimming pool, casting a wave over local swimmers. Will’s elation was unhindered by the pain of sunburn, he could tolerate this all the way through summer if it got rid of the scabs.
It soon reached autumn, the sun became tamer with its rays, yet it was still enough to hold back the scabs. William started to panic. What about when the winter months come in? He would not be able to control them... Sunbeds! They were the cure.
It was October when Will visited his first salon. He sat in the waiting area when Julie came and sat next to him, she had a magazine in her hands yet her interest lied with Will.
“Hi Will,” she smiled. “What are you doing here?”
Will acted like he hadn’t seen her come in. “Oh, hello Julie,” Will’s acting; terrible. “Just keeping my tan topped up. You?”
“Great minds,” Julie sat next to him and crossed her legs, her body language spoke to Will, like she wanted him to continue talking to her. Will’s new skin gave him a new confidence. 6 months ago he would not have dared.
“You have a lovely tan, do you even need to come here?,” Will charmed.
“It’s here I have to thank for this tan.”
‘I’ll have to thank them as well,' Will thought. He did not mention that it wasn’t only a tanning salon that maintained her golden skin, it was also the sun he had seen her bathing in. Luckily, she said it first.
“I’ve spotted you catching some rays in the sun, didn’t realise it was your thing,” Julie smirked.
“Ah yeah, well at first it was for relaxation, then I just got the bug,” Will lied.
“Really? Because if I remember, you liked to relax by playing computer games,” Julie teased.
“Still do, but why waste the sun?” Will replied. “It’s rare in this country and is good for you, have to enjoy it to it’s fullest.”
Julie was taken back by Will’s analogy and perspective. It intrigued her. “What do you like to do in the sun then, Will?”
Will thought for a second, but was able to reel off a long list of activities he accomplished in the summer thanks to his confidence and his enjoyment for wearing sleeveless shirts and shorts in the outdoors. “Swimming, running, climbing, long walks, tennis, golf, basketball, football (spectating and playing), dinners, drinking, reading.”
“Sounds like everything you should do in the sum,” Julie smiled.
“If there was more sunlight in the day, I’d do more,” Will joked. Julie laughed.
“It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow,” Julie looked out the window like today’s weather could show you tomorrow’s. “What you going to do with it?”
Will thought about this. He was suddenly hit with a strong desire to spend it with Julie. Maybe she felt the same way but what if she didn’t. Will was tactful. “Nothing planned, which means if the weather’s nice I’ll probably go for a country walk,” Will was happy with that answer, will he be happy with the next answer he heard? It was down to Julie. “What about you?”
“I have no plans either,” Julie was quick to respond. “But I tend to go on walks on days like that, too.” This was the right answer, now he needed to be just as quick with his response as she was.
“Want to walk together?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Just like they were kids again, Will and Julie arranged to knock for one another, around the time of 11am, and spend the day together. If all went well they would not have to go home for dinner, but go together.
“Will?” the tanning assistant called, just in time for it not to get awkward between the pair.
The next few weeks were spent with Will and Julie getting to know each other. They spent a lot of their time on walks, playing sports and generally having fun. Whilst behind close doors Will was consistently applying his cream and hitting the tanning salons to control the scabs. A few popped up here and there, but nothing too noticeable, nothing that didn’t look like a genuine scab. His skin colour was dazzling, he looked like a superstar. Girls turned everywhere he walked and even the girls in the office started complimenting on his looks. ‘You look well,’ they would say and ‘been anywhere nice?’ which Will would just reply to as “outdoors”. He had a smile on his face and he was happy. Will glowed wherever he went, especially in the office, and the men of the faculty were starting to notice. Danny made a few comments, yet it didn’t bother him. Will was able to wear short sleeved shirts in to work and he was not afraid to wear shorts on weekends, he also had Julie. Nothing anyone could say would hinder his mood.
More weeks passed and money began slipping away, more and more went on the tanning salons, where Will would spend £100’s a week destroying the scabs. It was becoming quite noticeable to the point that Will was looking more grotesque than handsome. The blokes in work started to make comments on his appearance. Calling him Umpa Lumpa, Tango’d and most commonly ‘tart’. Danny didn’t believe it was genuine and started making references to fake tan nearly every day, his favourite being a Friends episode where Ross visits a salon and doubles up on the spray. Julie noticed it as well, this was such a sudden transformation from the neighbour she had a crush on for years, the pale, pasty faced boy who kept himself to himself. Dark and mysterious. That Will was gone, the new Will had more confidence but it was going to his head.
It was a winter morning when Will walked into the office and sat at his desk. It was wet outside and Will looked like a very brown drowned rat. Money was tight for Will after spending so much in the tanning salons and on this miserable day Will was worried about his finances. Logging online into his bank account he could see his savings diminishing. He scratched his head. A pile of paperwork landed at his desk but he could not concentrate on that, he needed to find ways to fund his U.V. blast. The bottom of his back began to itch. He wasn’t smart or savvy enough for a get rich quick scheme, it had to be a crime. Drugs, sex, gambling, robbery? Will surfed the web for inspiration but kept finding himself drawn to tanning salons. When suddenly it hit him - get his own tanning bed. Even with all the deals on the net he could no way afford one, would his mother even allow one in the house? Was there space? He would make space, and she would have to understand! The top of his back began to itch. The scabs were coming back.
That night, after achieving nothing at work, Will dug around his mother’s wardrobe for her cash stash. In a boot at the bottom of a wardrobe there was £310 rolled up, still not enough. His head was itching more regularly and more ferociously than he had felt for months, where was he going to find the money for this? He couldn’t steal from anyone, that wasn’t ethical. Unless it was someone who deserved it,.
Will put the money back that he was close to stealing from his mother. Not long until pay day and Danny's bank account will be full.
It was the 28th November, the last payment the majority of the country was going to receive before Christmas to help spread the joy of the holiday with gifts and social interactions. Danny didn’t deserve to bring anyone joy with material items, Julie deserved it, so did his mother and Will had been through enough in his life to warrant taking something back, especially from the kind of person that brought him pain.
The night was cold, a chill and frost in the air, and everyone was leaving the office to go home and enjoy the Friday evening. Will left the office 5 minutes early to head into the bathroom and change into a hooded tracksuit. Donned with a scarf and gloves, Will followed Danny out of the office and into the tube, keeping a safe distance from suspicion.
Danny got off at New Cross and headed to the Amersham Arms. In there he was welcomed by a few friends, they got a round in for him and they drank. Laughing raucously. Will went around the pub and entered through a side door way, Danny and his pals sat in the corner, wrapped up in conversation and laughter to notice anyone without tits and arse to walk into the pub. Will approached the corner of the bar and asked for a pint of lager.
“Cash or card?” the bartender asked.
“Card, please.”
The bartender poured the pint and placed it before Will before collecting the card reader. The bartender typed in the cost and handed it to Will who purposely, and in a convincingly clumsy manner, dropped the reader into the pint.
“Oh fuck!” Will pretended. Trying to retrieve the reader.
“Here, here, let me get it,” the bartender, took the glass and emptied his contents over the sink. He shook the reader and dried it with a towel, however, the screen flickered and faded. “Shit.”
The bartender retrieved another reader, but the faulty one had caused a malfunction with the system. Perfect.
“So sorry, mate,” Will performed. “It was an accident.”
“These things happen,” the bartender sighed. “Can you pay by cash?”
“I can,” Will pulled out a five pound note and handed it to the bartender.
The next half hour was slow. Will faced the bar and spoke to no one, just gently drinking his pint. When he was halfway through his glass, one of Danny’s friends got up to get a round in.
“Card machine’s out,” the bartender explained rashly.
“I’ve got cash,” came the reply.
Will didn’t think of that, what if Danny had cash? He didn’t stop at a machine on the way, Will still might be able to carry out his plan.
Another half an hour passed. Whose round is it next? Will was coming to the last sips of his pint, he had been even slower drinking this half hour and it was becoming difficult to sip smaller amounts. Danny stood up.
“Same again?” He said. Will tensed, he angled further away from Danny’s table. He didn’t have to look at Danny at the bar, just needed to hear.
“Can I have four pints of lager please, mate.”
The bartender started to pour. “Just to let you know, mate,” said the bartender. “Cash only at the moment.”
Danny reached into his pockets. Something in Will wanted him to pull out a twenty pound note, to save himself from what was going to happen next. Instead, he heard behind Danny take step towards the door and call back. “I’ll just run the the cash machine.”
Will left it a second, threw back the last two gulps of his pint, and darted out the side entrance. He walked to the main street and saw Danny lightly jogging across the road to the cash machine. It was quiet in New Cross on this night, everyone was already home or in the pubs, it was too cold to hang about the streets. Will put on his gloves and wrapped his face in the scarf.
Will started across the street over to Danny, his hand fell into this pocket and fingered the cold steel of the blade. Even through the gloves he feel the cold. His fingers ran up the metal and gripped the plastic handle. His other hand pulled up the scarf to cover the bottom half of his face. An itched developed on his head, the pressure was mounting. The itch felt like a volcano erupting on his scalp. If he wanted to get rid of this itch and keep hold of his confidence and his girl, he needed this money!
Danny put his card into the machine and Will put the knife into his back.
Danny fell forward, his head hitting the wall above the cash machine and he let out a grunt, more in shock than in pain. Will raised his hand and pressed Danny’s head to the wall keeping him still. The knife wasn't supposed to go in, but Will had come too far to turn back now, might as well see it through.
“I’ve got a knife in your back,” Will scowled in a deep and muffled voice. “Type in your pin, clear for me to see or I’ll twist.”
“Please, please..” Danny pleaded. Will pushed his head harder against the brick.
“Do it, quick!”
Danny trembled as he slowly typed in the digits. Will memorised the code. “What’s your maximum?”
“What?”
“What can you withdraw?!”
“100.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Will pushed the knife in harder this time. Danny felt the metal sink deeper into this flesh.
“500! 500!” Danny wept.
“Do it,” Will whispered and Danny obliged. The card came out first, Will reached out and his wrist over tanned skin was open to the elements. Danny spotted the unique shade. Will pocketed the notes before whispering again in Danny’s ear. “I’m going to let you go, if you scream or even let out a whelp, I’l cut your throat, you understand?”
Danny nodded, unable to catch a breath, in shock and terrified. Will withdrew, Danny fell to his knees. Will took two steps back, looked to his left and ran to his right. Danny, on knees twisted his body and placed his shoulder against the wall and was finally able to breathe again.
Will sat in a park until the clock struck midnight. He had run down alleys and through other parks to get to himself 3 miles away from where he had robbed and stabbed Danny. Now that time had passed into Saturday he could withdraw another £500. He managed to double his theft discretely at a cash point on the corner outside a newsagents, away from cameras and a high street. Then he set off for home. Sirens sounded what felt like on every turn for Will, whether they were for him or another crime he did not know and did not want to find out. Without passing one human, he managed to make it way home at 6am. There he sat in his room and stared at the bloodstained knife and the £1000 in cash.
It had been two days since Will committed the incident that changed his life forever. It had also been three days since he slept. He had not left his room nor had he spoken to anyone since leaving his place of work that eventful Friday evening. He was back in the dark. The itching was increasing tenfold, it had never been so bad before, never so irritating, never so raw. His nails tore at the scabs and left them bleeding, his whole body was alight.
Will spent most of his time scratching, agitated on his bed. The only sound coming from his room was his heavy, anxious breathing and sounds of scratching skin. Every hour or so, he left the dark, gloomy cave if his room; releasing the thick, muggy oxygen when opening the door to creep to the window and peer outside. The stress of paranoia and guilt for his actions turned Will into a quivering, scratched wreck.
On Saturday Julie called his phone and he answered, she wanted to go for a walk but Will made up an excuse - saying he was ill. She wanted to come next door to check on him but he said he had a terrible bug and kept throwing up, he did not want her to catch it. It was convincing and she sympathised. He had bought himself a day. After Will hung up the phone he stared at the device. In a sudden rush of panic he destroyed the phone - paranoid that the police were tracking and tapping into this calls.
On Sunday the police came. Will was doing what he had been doing for the last 32 hours, scratching and fidgeting in the dusty, dark, humid room. As he sat in silence he heard the knock at the door. His bloodshot eyes widened and his head darted to his bedroom door like a deer hearing a twig snap in the woods. Sweat beaded down his face. There was a pause, not even the sound of breathing or scratching was heard. There was a second knock, electricity surged through Will’s body, he was tense yet vibrating. He heard the footsteps of his mother approach the door, the handle turning and the latch releasing, halfway through the squeak of the door, the assertive voice was heard.
“Hello madame, sorry to bother you,” said the assertive, confident voice. “We’re looking to talk to a resident at this house. Is Will Jones in?”
Will’s heart stopped.
“What is this about?” Asked the sweet, innocent voice of his mother.
“We’re investigating into a stabbing on Friday, in New Cross, and we believe Will could help us with some information.”
“Oh dear,” his mother gasped. “Is the person ok?”
“The victim is in critical condition,” said a second assertive, although more warming voice. “He will survive though.”
Will’s heart started again, just a little.
“Oh thank God,” his mother was relieved.
“Is Will in, Miss?” said the second, gentler voice.
“He is, but he is unwell.”
“Can he come speak to us?”
“I’m afraid he cannot leave his room.”
“Can we see him?”
“I don’t think that would be wise, you don’t want to catch what he has. It’s quite nasty.”
“We will be fine, ma’am.”
“I don’t think it would be wise,” Will’s mother now had the assertive voice. There was a pause, the silence was deafening. Finally, the police conceded.
“We hope Will recovers quickly, in time for our next visit.”
“Thank you officers.” The door closed.
Will caught up with the oxygen he missed out on by breathing, quick. He heard the footsteps of his mother go into the kitchen and close the door. Was she not going to approach him on this? Ask why he is under investigation? Does she know he’s guilty? Most mothers know when they’re child is hiding something, and after Will’s extreme behaviour recently, who knows what she suspects?
Ten minutes passed, ten minutes of mind dazzling questions that raced and darted in and out of Will’s head - the police, his mother, what to do when they return with a warrant, do they have enough evidence, was his face seen? Question after question, scratch after scratch bombarded Will’s body and mind until it muted once again by a knocking at the door.
That was quick.
Will’s mother opened the door again, this time her voice was light and welcoming.
“Hello Julie, how are you?”
“I’m good thanks, Mrs Jones, how are you?”
“I’m well, I’m well. I’m afraid I cannot say the same for Will.”
“I know, he told me yesterday, I was just coming to check to see how he is. I’ve tried calling but his phone goes straight to answer machine.”
“I’ll call up, see if he can come down,” Will’s mother turned her head and called up the stairs. “Willlll. Julie’s here to see you.”
Will was now up and standing behind his closed door. He wanted to see Julie.
“I’ll be right down,” Will called back. He waited and heard the footsteps of his mother retreat back into the kitchen. Will threw on a hooded jumper and lifted the hood over his head, then he slowly opened the door and stepped carefully down the flight.
The front door was only slightly ajar, perfect, she cannot see him. He reached the bottom step and only peered half a head to see Julie with one eye.
“Hi,” was all he could muster in a solemn voice.
“Will? Are you ok?”
“I’m sick.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Not well.”
“Are you ok? I can barely see you.”
“I don’t want you to catch it,” and then there was a pause. Julie looked down onto the floor.
“What was that with the police?”
“Nothing, I don’t know anything.”
“Ok, but why were they here?”
“A stabbing.”
“In New Cross.”
Will’s eyes darted as he thought about her knowledge. Did she hear the police or does she know about the incident? “Yes, in New Cross.”
“My friend told me about that, it was Danny, who you work with.”
Will’s eyes darted even faster and more radical, here and there across the floor and at Julie’s feet. “Oh, poor Dan.”
“Will, what’s the matter? Talk to me,” Julie reached out a hand to comfort him, he retracted back, over-jerking in his nervous state and Julie knew from then that he was hiding something. She also saw the scabs on his face. “Oh my god, what has happened? You’re covered in scratches.”
“They’re my own,” Will turned away to hide his face.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Julie's voice had genuine concern, she cared for Will, yet could she believe him? If Will was honest in the first place about his skin condition perhaps this whole thing could have been avoided, yet he did not want her to know about it, she would be put off by his ugliness and he would lose her. Will was convinced she would never date a crusty cretin like him, he needed to be smooth.
“It will go!” Will snapped. “I can get rid of it, I just need to recover first.” Will raised his hands to express his frustration, there Julie spotted the sores on his hands.
“Will, what has happened to your hands?” Will looked down and there in the open was the red, scabby patches he had been trying so hard to hide. There was his evidence. There in her voice, the shock was enough to prove that she was repulsed by his vulgar scabs. Will slammed the door.
“Will!” Julie protested, there was a desperation in her voice that Will did not hear. He stormed upstairs and into his room, slamming a second door.
Will paced and he scratched, he paced and he scratched. The jig was up, she had seen what he had. Julie will be disgusted. Even if he burnt them off she knew that his skin was capable of creating such vile things. A crust of grotesque. He scratched more, this panic had heightened. The police were onto him, he was not careful enough. They will follow CCTV footage back to his place of work where he changed into his robbery attire. He would lose his job. If he lost his job he would not be able to pay keep and his mother would chuck him out. If he was out on the streets he would not have a tanning bed and he would be scabby. If he was scabby Julie will not want him. If he was scabby no one will want him. All this was going to come but first he had to go through prison first. The stress of prison, the torture of prison and even worse he will not have sunlight or even his cream to soothe the scabs.
The police will return soon, Will had lost hope. His skin was on fire, irritated and volcanic. He ran a bath. It was time for the scabs to go. If he was going to prison, the scabs needed to go and not through sunlight, they need to go for good.
The bath was cold, not a drop of hot water went in. Will went into his room and undressed. The release from cloth was the first step in the euphoric stages that were in store for him.
Under the bed, the still bloodied knife lay that stabbed Danny in the back. Will picked it up. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. Will stepped into the bath, the coldness was refreshing and soothing. Nearly every inch of his body bore scratches, half of that was scabs, scattering his back to look like leopard spots again. Will did not clean the knife, he placed the blade on the first scab that caused an itch. It was one the size of a penny on his forearm, the blade was pressed against it, the coldness of the blade colder than the bath water. Then Will cut it, like cutting a bruise from an apple. A chunk of skin flew into the bath and he did not bleed for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly the blood started to flow. The thickness flooding down his arm gave Will an extra dose of ecstasy. He was in Nirvana. He went for another, this time on his calf. He carried on to the next and then the next, each time cutting more cleanly than he had prior. Scabs, skin and flesh dropped into the bath like hailstones in a storm. The bath filled with blood. Will shimmied up to get a better angle at his stomach and chest, cutting across his skin like he was peeling a potato. Will was frantic, he rolled around, splashing bloody water out of the bath as he tried to reach scabs on his back.
He started to feel light headed, it was near the end. Every scab had been picked - cut off with venom. No more scratching. The last area to cover was his scalp. The worst area for scabbing. The scabs here were thick and clustered. They caused Will the most distress and he was going to return the favour. He started to cut. He had dreamt of this moment for years, removing the layer of scalp from his head and being scab and irritation free. The enjoyment and satisfaction he felt cutting his scalp trumped the cuts made to his body twice over. It was Heaven.
Will slowed down. He salivated over every cut, during every motion of the blade he processed the exquisite feeling like he was tasting the flavours of a delicious meal. The experience was unlike any other, it was enlightenment. Will placed the blade onto his last scab, and as he did so the last drop of blood that was keeping him alive fell from his body, joining the scabs in the bath to swim around him in the water.