WARNING: this chapter portrays some of the more graphic and disturbing parts of Finn's illness.
My throat burns with the pain that only rushing acid could produce.
What brought the acid and saliva and slush running from my throat? To be literal, my fingers, running against my gag reflex, less lightly because this isn't my first time. But to be specific, it was a Totodile. It was a happy-go-lucky baby Pokémon aiming to play. And I got caught in the crossfire.
So, one kid's preening over his new Totodile and the other is patting her Azumarill, and oh look how cute, they're play-fighting. I'm walking on the opposite street because those things have teeth like nightmares, and then Azumarill squeals its name and a powerful blast of water sprays me.
Now, for those who don't think about it, that water comes straight out of its mouth. Past the nightmare teeth and out of some gland or something, but it hurts and it ruins my book and I'm so shocked that it gets in my mouth and I swallow some.
So I run home and make myself puke up everything I ate today and the nasty water that came out of a baby's body. We don't think about it. But it's there. Another book goes in the trash courtesy of an arcdamn Pokémon, and I think I was going out to do something important, so I don't remember what. So I go back that way so it can come back to me and the trainers are still there. And one of them does something that people don't do to me enough, or maybe do too much but I don't know.
"I'm so sorry! Chompers is still kind of unruly ever since I picked him up. Did he ruin your clothes or anything?"
I'm about to say something but then I remember the vomit on my breath and the stains on my teeth and the sores in my mouth. So I shake my head and keep walking. But that doesn't happen often. Is this a trend? Maybe if I go out again tomorrow I'll run into that kid and make my own apologies, But he isn't there the next day.
This is what I do. I make myself an outcast. Sometimes I have panic attacks. Once, a Growlithe rubbed against me for a second before its trainer came along. And so she said hi and all that, but I was suppressing every instinct in my body to run away and shower until my skin melted, because that Growlithe was wet and I don't know what from. So I sounded nasty and stilted because that puppy's barks sounded like a million Beedrills scratching up my brain.
I wish I had a shirt that said, "don't touch me."
Sometimes I don't know whether my thoughts are my own. If I said I was schizo, would they just call out a Hypno and admonish it? Or would they help me?
I wish I could stop thinking. Can I pretend to be happy, or at least admit that I'm sick? What's worse, fear or shame? Which choice will make them go away? I don't know if I can even keep on doing what I'm doing (avoiding people).
Would anyone believe me if I said I was sick? What if I said that I wanted to die? When I look in the mirror, my eyes are hollow, but no one looks into my eyes anyway. My sickness isn't invisible, but no one seems to have seen it anyway. What if I had scars?
What if I went to the Silver Conference and jumped into the path of a Charizard's flame? What would they say?
I don't know now, so I'll walk home and throw up again and again, and maybe weep-that's more painful and shameful than acid waterfalls.
