“Just the park,” he whispered. “I want to feel normal.”
Doctors advised against it. Marcus ignored them.
They went.
At the city park, laughter floated through the air—children running, parents calling, life unfolding effortlessly. Oliver sat alone on a bench, pressing his palm to his forehead, his face twisted in pain while joy passed him by like a stranger.
That was when Nora noticed him.
She was small, thin, with tangled hair and worn shoes. Her dress was faded but clean. What stood out were her eyes—curious, steady, kind. She stopped a few steps away and watched him quietly.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
Oliver nodded weakly. “All the time.”
She stepped closer, ignoring the sharp looks from security. As Oliver flinched again, she squinted, studying his face with strange focus.
“Don’t move,” she said softly. “I think I see something.”
Gasps rippled through the adults nearby.
Marcus froze.
Before anyone could react, Nora reached out—careful, unafraid. Her fingers pinched gently.
The boy gasped.
Something long, pale, and writhing slid free.
The park went dead silent.
A living parasite—hidden, undetected, impossible—twisted in the sunlight.
Someone screamed. Someone else dropped to their knees.