What the hell is that? I backed up to the mirror, contorting my spine and twisting my shoulders. I craned my head as far as it would go to see what it looked like—that hard, cold bump I felt on my back. At first I didn’t see anything, just the unassuming freckles and blemishes. But then I caught a glimpse of it. It was just below my skin; raised, with sharp lines and a triangle shape. And it was glowing. I panicked and scratched with my nails, tearing away flesh. It was rooted, deep. I clawed. 

It glowed brighter.