1 Scratch

The itch rose like a wave until the young mother could bear it no longer. It had been hours of torment. Ripping off the fingernail protectors of her left hand, in a frenzy, she scratched her throbbing thigh until blood in little pinpricks, smeared her fingertips deep red. A parched man dying of thirst with his first cup of water could not have been more desperate. Now she had only a day to live and she knew it. But the tears had already been dripping from her face.