He could feel it again. The scratching inside his head. The sharp pain that raked away from within, that cut like razor blades across his scalp. The warm, slow seep across his brain, like blood spreading out. It stopped him in his tracks. The sound was even worse. The churning scrape that reverberated through his skull, distorting in his ear drums. It was deafening, the world lost to the high pitch ring and low jarring scrape from within. He put his hand to the spot. He could feel it in his palm, the vibrations of something hard clawing across bone. He pressed harder, holding it in. They could tell him it wasn't real, but what they didn't understand was, it didn't matter if it was real or not. He could still feel it. Something scratching away inside, trying to get out.
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