...DISCLAIMER: THIS GOES OUT TO THE ACTUAL CREATOR'S OF THE STORIES! I DECIDED TO PUBLISH THEM ON HERE FOR YOU GUYS! SO IF YOU WANNA CHECK THEM OUT THEN DOWNLOAD SPOTIFY AND CHECK OUT THEIR PODCASTS CALLED CREEPY! THE COVER OF THE BOOK IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! AGAIN THIS GOES OUT TO THE ACTUL CREATORS! enjoy😊...

...I will never forget my sweet sixteen it was everything I've ever dreamed of, or hoped it would be. I mean sure ya it would've been cool if everyone survived it, but you should have seen my dress, when I say perfect I mean Cinderella can shove it. The dress was made for me! actually quite literally, my mother was quite dictatorial about what I wore on a good day, and my sixteenth journey around the sun she used to say was "the day I stepped into the sun's light, the day I became a woman". So naturally the dress was priority, couldn't go waltzing into women hood dressing like a scrub....

...If I'm being really honest I knew that the day I became a woman would also be the day i took a life. Every woman in my family had also killed on their sixteenth birthday. It was tradition and as I learned the only chance to prevent infection, so fine maybe it got out of hand but if you heard what Kent said about me and saw the look on his face you probably would of wanted to kill him too, just saying. Whatever he was a waste of air, I don't really see what everyone is so bent out if shape about? My family is acting like I'm the black sheep and a murder now, like hello they all told me I had to kill someone, sorry they forgot to mention that it would be really freaking hard to control that....

...So I should probably back track a smidge. I'll bet your curious why I didn't absolutely bug face when mother sat me down and explained to a sweet 14 year old Ariana that I would kill a boy on my sixteenth birthday. Well if you've ever had a itch you couldn't scratch, imagine it a thousand times worst and then have that itch for years! you'd kill someone with a fucking smile on your face to feel that itch finally get scratched....

...The first time she sat me down for one of these talks was when I was, say 7 or so I was a cute kid big blue green eyes and pale blond hair, longer than anyone I'd ever seen except my mother. But I had a really bad dandruff, atleast that's what I thought and what I was to tell my teachers. Uhh how'd she phrase it, " a severe skin condition resulting in an abundance of malassezia or some crap like that? Again she pretty much just told them that I had mega dandruff. Thanks mom, everyone took sooo well to the itchy weirdo with the mega dandruff. Not a great look as a sticky little elementary schooler always scratching your head. Lice is the natural assumption, so mother was keen on keeping my story straight from the start....

...It only helped her story along,that I lefted trails of my silvery hair just about everywhere I went. Just a derby kid with this skin condition, itchy and sheds to much like the stray cat you never knew you wanted. As I got older the dandruff got significantly worse, like gross and worse. It wasn't so much that powdery flakes one associates with dandruff, but like chunks of my scalp it felt like I was scrapping out with my finger nails. I won't lie it was a little satisfying when i felt the little lump of flesh push into my nail, i felt atleast some degree of relief from the constance itch. But yea being that I was in eighth grade this really wasn't any kind of improvement. If anything it made me more repulsive to the other kids. But more importantly and why my mother insists my condition had improved it aloud for an alteration in the story, that gave me some social reprieve. Okay maybe not reprieve because they tortured me in different ways, for this story but it provided me with a neshe and atleast a half assed support system....

...We played it off as an anxiety disorder which manifested it's self physically in the nervous tick of itching my scalp. And hey I was almost a teenager I'd atleast learned to itch it somewhat more discreetly not like a barbaric toddler anymore. And so my itchy awkward youth dragged onward. The good news I was a moderately attracted young lady so it certainly could've been more difficult. I managed to maintain two very close friends and enough acquaintances to excepted me to what they knew of me. And I was promised on my sixteenth birthday I would be so beautiful. No one would even remember I'd ever scratched my head....

...So I stayed more focused on that then the whole "your also gonna off someone that night, bit". As my sweet sixteen drew closer my scalp only got worse and itchy-er tho. And weeks leading up to it I could hardly fall asleep. Sure partly from the excitement of impending murder. But mostly because the second I would lay my head on my pillow, it would become unflappablely itchy. Now I'm sure you felt something like this at some point in your life. Maybe a few days since you did more than dry shampoo your hair, it's been in braids for three days and whem you finally pull it down to sleep, it gets wildly itchy. Like somebody dumped you head first into a bucket of ants, and there barrelling over when another to run there millions of tiny legs over your scalp and you've got mittens taped over your nails. Factoring almost a decade of itching that scalp. It was indescribably sensitive, and it was driving me off the deep end....

...Itchy all damn day, then so overwhelmingly so at night kicking around restis lee desperate for morning for just the smallest distraction form the incessant itch roaming the inside of my skull. I fully expected night after night to wake up to the following morning in a psych ward looped out of my mind on whatever cocktail of drugs makes a person stop hallucinating that their scalp is covered in ants. But night after night my mother hushed me with promises that it will all be over soon. "Just a few more weeks a few more days just wait until your sweet sixteen and you won't want to scratch anymore, it will all be ok if you just wait". So i did, Hahaha are you kidding me come on obviously no I did not just listen to my mother and have everything go according to plan. I thought I had it all figured out she instructed me that night, that I was NOT to wash my hair no matter how bad the itching got. And no matter how desperately i might wanted to, she said I needed to wait until mourning....

...So i figured well, I wouldn't wash my hair that night I'd simply run some water through it. Normally I'd shampoo it and really massage some tea tree oil into it. That usually tended to help atleast somewhat. I knew I should just go to sleep like she told me too, but it was just some cool water to sooth the irritated flesh. I couldn't resist. This was learning mother is always right, but ten times worse and more frustrating and dangerous I guess? I immediately knew that something was wrong, the second the water touched my scalp it became itchy-er then in all the years of my life to that point combined. I felt like the "ants" we're in my scalp, and trying desperately with microscopic razer sharp teeth to chew there way out. My hands instinctively flew up to clutch up my scalp roaming over it feeling for these millions of "ants" as tho I force the itch away by smoshing them all. And that's when my stomach did a backflip, and I started screaming in earnest....

...Hope you guys injoyed the second part of this story will come put soon😆 make sure to:...

Like👍 Share↪ and Subscribe❤