Water, he thinks. Water.


He tears at his clothes, attacking himself like a man possessed. He is upright. He is wild. He is feral. He must get away from himself. Giving no thought to direction or place, he runs. He runs fast. He runs hard. He runs blindly.
His left hand awakens. It scratches his cheek while his right moves across to his side. From his cheek to his neck. From his side to his stomach. From stomach to back. From neck to arm. His hands will not stop. They can not stop. His body writhes. He rolls back and forth, rubbing against the green ground to get at each unreachable part. His skin reddens. Purple streaked lines raise and spread in every direction. Blisters form. He can not stop. His eyes swell shut. He is crazed and convulsive.