Scars of Life

Adrian N. Aldrich stood over the pool of his own blood in the empty alleyway and gasped for air. The man couldn't take another step, the sharp pain was shooting all throughout his limbs and it seemed to him like the soles of his feet were being cut with razor blades over and over again. He couldn't feel his face... it had stopped hurting, but blood was still dripping down his thoroughly disfigured chin into the palms of his hands which were also torn up in the same gruesome way. His once white shirt was now soaked and crimson red. His head felt light and his eyes fogged up as a result of the severe blood loss. His hands were going numb and Adrian felt colder than he had ever felt. He wished that it was only a dream, but he knew that this pain is real and he can't escape it... The blood-covered man prayed for death. He fell on his knees, let out a scream of pain and threw up- the street was now covered in fresh warm blood and Adrian laid dead in the middle of it while still staring at one of his hands. Every wound had instantly healed, leaving the corpse covered in thick revolting scars.

Days ago Adrian N. Aldrich had been cursed: Maybe by an angry gypsy-lady or maybe a vengeful ghost... I guess only he knows the reason now, but what he picked up was something very old, dark and deadly. Every time he remembered an occasion when his soul had been damaged (be it childhood traumas or accidentally running over a cat) he received a seemingly unimportant little cut in his skin. You can tie the wounds with bandages or even try to burn them, but they will not stop bleeding... and the memories pile up. Every moment he thought of times he had got hurt or had seen a loved one in pain another one surfaced. Soon every hurtful occasion in his life started flashing through his mind and every cut on his skin started hurting unbearably. And after the hours of pain Adrian N. Aldrich died in terror, scarred by his own life.