20180809

Day 1,431

Please go away.
There is nothing for you here.
This is not your home.

It's ever an easy thing to tell a loved one that they aren't welcome in the very place they grew up but seeing the way the parasite's tendrils wrapped around their eyes and pulsed in time to their heartbeat softened the blow. Not by much, after all the ones who tried to go home weren't quite at the stage where the parasite starts to eat away at the brain so they were more or less themselves.

Usually less than more, especially when they hit the point where their central nervous system gets jacked and every sensation feels like flaming knives being forced into your skin over and over and over again until all you can think about is making everything just stop.

At that point, it stops being classified as murder and becomes euthanasia. The government agreed to it within a week of the first hundred confirmed cases and it all snowballed from there until the world divided itself into two categories - worm-ridden and free.

We still aren't sure which is a worse fate, losing yourself to the parasite or losing everyone else.

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