leg is getting very heavy. I need to go back to shore. I have to fix my waders. I feel a sharp pain in my foot. I have hard hands and feet, cracked and calloused from many years of hiking and climbing. My feet and hands should be impenetrable, but I can feel pain inside of me. I lift my leaden leg from the water. I watch in horror as my flesh begins to move from within. My heel throbs as I reach for it. The long, snake-like figure is burrowing into my foot. It has latched on. I think of Darrins fish; this isn't just a "hickey." The movement alone could stop my heart from beating. It goes further into me, up my foot and into my leg. I pull my pants down. The water rushes out of them. They are loose around my ankles. I must not trip. The noise that comes out of my mouth is a shriek of pure agony. I am staggering to the shore. The more I limp, the deeper I can feel it. I believe it has penetrated my bone. I realize that the only thing to do is cut. I still have my fishing belt. My dad gave it to me. I have to hack through my flesh to retrieve the parasite. I bite my arm as I slit my foot open. I can't even muster a scream. My teeth dig straight through the layers of muscle and skin. I removed the bloodsucker with a net knife; small, but it did the job. My dad gave me that knife. Digesting, the beast squirms once more. I kill it. My dad used to love to fish with me, before he killed himself. My body hits the edge of the bank with outstanding force. As the knife hits the creature it secretes a dense warm liquid-mostly my blood. I dare not look at my foot
Two Left Hands Allison Mills
27
