[h3][color=#90adb1]Marcus Bradley[/color][/h3] [sup]Location: Bedroom ->[color=f26522]Cafeteria[/color]
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A grateful sigh escaped Marcus once he heard Athena walk away. There were more pressing matters on his mind than "how the others were doing" and "lounges" or whatever. He practically sprinted on the way to his room, his head buzzing with all sorts of theories, thoughts, and emotions, all centered around whatever the [i]hell[/i] his elbow was doing. As the door to his room closed behind him, Marcus made his way into the bathroom, then stopped in front of the mirror. Even though he was still covering his elbow and could see no blood between his fingers, Marcus could feel nausea creeping up on him again but he knew he had to look. Slowly he removed his hand from covering up his elbow until he could see it again-- and there it was.

The scratch marks on his elbow were perfectly traced out by the slate gray of his bone beneath but... no this didn't look right. As he leaned farther forward, to get a better look at the "bone", Marcus began to notice that it wasn't shaped how bones should be shaped-- that his skin had peeled away from the area as if it had been wax atop of another layer of someting. With sick fascination, Marcus drew his fingernail between the area of exposed not-bone and his skin, then peeled the skin away easily. His eyes widened, his head swam, and he collapsed to the bathroom floor on his hands and knees, as he found he could no longer stand on legs trembling so fiercely.

Sweating suddenly, Marcus began forcing himself to think about it-- about what he had just done-- and the implications of it. He could peel his skin off and it neither hurt or bled. This was happening. Vomit erupted from his mouth, splashed against the tile floor, and splattered against his hands. Coughing, Marcus moved away from his mess, still on all fours, then made his way out of the bathroom. 
	
	Gross. 

	That was gross-- that was horrible-- he was not going to deal with it right now. 

He fumbled for the bathroom door handle with his eyes closed, then shut all of that up-- shut the door and crawled away. As soon as he dug a solid blue hoodie out of his closet, he threw it over himself to cover up the elbo-- No. He wasn't even going to think about it-- he could feel the nausea creeping back at the [i]hint of the thought[/i]. Marcus made his way out of his room then began walking miserably down the hallway. He could smell himself-- the stench of vomit clinging to him-- and figured since no one could possibly be in this direction, no one would ask questions about it. He was hungry, [i]somehow[/i], after all that puking, and it was so savage that Marcus knew he couldn't wait to eat.