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Blood tainted petals escape Jackson’s lips more often now, from his lungs they go up his windpipe, choking him and making him cough blood with the petals. The thorns pierce his lungs and it hurts, it hurts so much like claws tearing his flesh open. He doubles over the sink and coughs and coughs, getting out of his mouth one or two petals painted in blood.

Jackson cries in pain and desperation, hiding his illness from everyone else in the house. Luckily, he throws one or two petals at the time and he can flush them easily. It’s always so painful he never wakes up with petals on his pillow like other cases, —Jackson has even contacted other patients, trying to find advise and comfort. His attacks are violent, bloody and excruciating, and they always start with the claws in his chest so Jackson knows he must run to the toilet immediately. 

He hasn’t called the doctor yet, for days he’s just gone with the motions, hiding his illness and trying to gather the courage to get the surgery.

Claws bury in his heart and lungs, knocking the air out of his lungs and making him drown in blood. He runs to the bathroom and curls around the toilet, coughing desperately to get the petals out. Blood splutters on the toilet walls, small red dots against the ceramic. More blood comes with every cough, the pain burning him from within as he keeps coughing.

Finally, four petals come out of his mouth that’s filled with blood. Every time there’s more and