"Tom, talk to me," Marilyn said.

Tom sat on the bedroom floor, hands clenching his head. His legs were bent, knees pressed against his chest. His white briefs blended with his pale skin. Tom's undershirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat.

"Please, Tom," Marilyn said. "Tell me what's going on."

His eyes tightened and his lips pulled back in a snarl. It felt like his head would burst, his skull cracking open to a geyser that would splatter blood across the walls.

"The pain," Tom said. "Grab me the painkillers."

Marilyn moved toward the bathroom, her legs moving like scissors beneath her nightgown. The bathroom light eclipsed around her body and cast a shadow upon Tom. It was long and sinister, ready to drag Tom away into the night to end his pain and replace it with darkness.

Marilyn hesitated. Tom already took two pills in the last hour and exceeded his dose.

Tom moaned.

Marilyn returned to Tom with two more pills. She placed them on his tongue, and with both hands, tilted the glass of water against his shaking lips. Tom kicked his head back and the liquid ran down his throat.

Tom's headache had returned, stronger than ever. As the sun went down, the hammering shifted into something great and terrible, like two trucks colliding. Screeching metal and an unmeasurable force. It was debilitating. Tom couldn't think or function. All he felt was the pain tearing through his body like a serrated knife. It shot down from his neck and ran through his entire body. Even breathing was a difficult task.

"What can I do for you?" Marilyn asked. "How can I help?"

She crouched in front of him, arms draped over her knees.

He didn't respond. His hands clenched tighter.

"Tom, I think we should take you to the doctor," Marilyn said. Her voice was soft.

"The doctor won't do anything," Tom said.

"But if the pain is this bad—"

"It won't help!" Tom shouted.

His hands scratched his head as if trying to rid it of insects that festered in his scalp. The veins in his arms bulged.

"Make it stop. Make it stop." Tom chanted, rocking on the floor. "Make it stop."

Someone banged on the cabin door.

Marilyn froze for a moment and then scurried to the front. Holding her breath, she looked through the peephole. She could still hear Tom hissing in pain.

The door banged again. Marilyn jumped.

"Who is it?" Marilyn asked.

"The guest care team. We just wanted to check-in on—"

"Now's not a great time," Marilyn said through the door.

"No problem. Have a great night ma'am."

Marilyn looked back at Tom. He was hitting himself in the head. Just a bit harder and the pain would slip out, squirming on the floor.

"Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop," Tom cried.

Marilyn moved behind Tom and sat down. She stretched her legs alongside his own and wrapped her arms around his chest. She leaned back against the bed and held him close. His head rose and fell to her breathing. His body felt hot against her cool skin.

"It's going to be okay, Tom." Marilyn ran her hand through his hair. "The medicine will help. You'll be okay." Her face stiffened and eyes swelled with water as she held back the flood.

Tom's breathing soon matched Marilyn's.

"Make it stop." He sounded defeated. "Please, make it stop."

Like a river to a lake, Marilyn's tears met with his already soaked hair.

Tom needs to see the doctor, she thought.

Marilyn knew the doctor wouldn't help much, but it was better than this. He'd be able to have another look and explain what was happening to Tom. And with the ship headed back to their departure, maybe it would be best if they returned home and saw a specialist. It was too risky staying on this boat. She needed Tom to be okay. Sandy even more so.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

When Tom calmed and the medicine kicked in, Marilyn helped him back onto the bed. She paused by the window to look at the lavender sky. The bellies of the clouds were stained pink as the sun faded away. Soon it would be dark. Marilyn noticed the ship stopped moving, the water rolling beneath like a bedsheet settling on a mattress.

"What's wrong with Daddy?" Sandy asked. Her head popped into the room, fingers peeking around the doorframe.

"Nothing, honey." Marilyn walked toward Sandy, her steps feeling sluggish. "Daddy just has a headache?"

"Are you sure?" Sandy asked. She stepped into the room wearing a red polka dot dress.

"I promise." Marilyn smiled and crouched to Sandy's eye level. "Why are you wearing your dress? I thought I put you in your pajamas."

"I wanted to wear my dress." Sandy twirled. "It's my favorite."

"I know but save it for tomorrow. Let's get you back in bed."

Marilyn walked into the other bedroom and searched for Sandy's pajamas.

"Where did you put them?"

"Over there." Sandy pointed. "Mommy, can I sleep in your bed tonight? I'm scared."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, honey." Marilyn picked Sandy's pajamas from the corner.

"I'm scared of the spaceman." Sandy pouted.

Marilyn placed the pajamas on the bed and gave Sandy a hug. "Honey, the spaceman is gone. There's nothing to worry about."

"He's not gone," Sandy said. "I saw him move."

"He did not." Marilyn leaned back to look into Sandy's eyes.

"He did too!" Sandy screamed.

"Hey!" Marilyn raised her finger. "No yelling. Time for bed." Marilyn reached for the pajamas again and then heard Tom in the other room.

"Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop."

"Stay here," Marilyn said, placing both hands on Sandy's shoulders.

Marilyn ran back to her bedroom. Tom was pacing back and forth, striking his palm against his forehead.

"MAKE IT STOP," Tom shouted.

"Tom!" Marilyn cried. "You're scaring Sandy."

Tom charged into the bathroom, his feet pounding against the floor. Marilyn didn't know how to react—it happened so fast. As his feet met the cold tiles, Tom rammed his face into the mirror. A crack ran along his reflection, looking like he split in two.

"MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP."

Tom pulled his head back and smashed it into the mirror again, shattering it. In one swooping motion, Tom's arm cleared the counter of every item. He grabbed both sides of the sink and began driving his head into the ceramic rim.

"MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP."

"Tom!" Marilyn reached for Tom's shoulder. His elbow flew back and caught her in the eye, sending Marilyn to the ground.

"Tom, what are you doing?" The flood broke through, drenching her face. Her left eye raged from the impact of his elbow. "Stop it!" Marilyn cried.

"MAKE. IT. STOP."

Tom screamed a sound Marilyn had never heard before. The sound made her shiver and filled her with a primal fear, one that made her want to jump ship and swim. Swim as far away as she could, away from this. But she couldn't leave Tom.

Blood ran down the counter from where Tom was smashing his head.

"Please, Tom." She crawled toward him, sobbing, and wrapped her arms around his leg. "Stop."

And he did. His body swayed.

Marilyn looked up, afraid to look into his eyes. Afraid to find that it was not Tom she was looking at.

Tom's face was raw. The center of his forehead was torn open from the impact against the mirror. His nose was bent to the right, a gash along his nose bridge. Swollen lips trailed a set of shattered teeth. Tom smiled, jagged edges that could tear the flesh from her bones.

Then he laughed. It was a terrifying sound. No one should be laughing after this. The sound was more frightening than death itself. She would welcome the reaper if it meant never hearing it again.

Marilyn scurried toward the phone. She saw Sandy watching from the doorway.

"Back to your room!" Marilyn shouted. "Now."

Marilyn ran for the phone and dialed guest services. She stood in the corner, watching Tom sit down and continue to laugh.

Tom grew still.

"Guest services, how can we help you?"

Tom's face lost all emotion. The feelings of pain, madness, and hysteria were gone. It was as if he died at that moment, and in a way, he did. His eyes glazed over. He stared into Marilyn, his eyes moving beyond her skin and into her soul, witnessing the cosmic fear that spiraled throughout her body.

"Hello? Guest services, how can we help you?"

Blood ran from Tom's eyes. Two red streams met the rest of his bloodied face. Then his eyes were gushing blood. The force caused his eyes to tear from the optic nerve and fall from his face. They tumbled down his chest and rolled toward Marilyn like marbles.

Marilyn dropped the phone.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

Tom sat lifelessly. His hollowed eyes were like deep wells, gateways to the abyss. Marilyn saw a flash of movement within the deep wells. Two tentacles appeared from the sockets, snaking their way from Tom's head. They swayed in the air like the limbs of a sea monster. The tentacles grazed the floor and probed the furniture in the room.

Marilyn's blood rushed from her face. She heard swooshing and crackling from Tom's head. His skull looked like it was shifting, moving like tectonic plates. The bones of his skull were coming loose, like a bird hatching from an egg. Pieces of scalp and bone tumbled from his head and off his shoulders until his head was cracked open like a basket. Four other tentacles emerged from where his brain should be, dancing in the air like a lightning storm.

Tom was gone. There were some things you just knew. There was no saving him. That thing, that creature was not him. There would be time to mourn for him later. Her maternal instincts took over and she only had one thought. Sandy.

Marilyn bolted toward Sandy's room.

"Sandy!" Marilyn called.

Right when Marilyn pivoted through the doorway, a tentacle reached out and wrapped around her ankle. She was pulled to the floor, her chin hitting the ground and biting off the tip of her tongue. Blood streamed between her teeth.

It dragged Marilyn back into her bedroom. Another tentacle darted toward her and pierced her back, the tip sharp like a blade. Marilyn felt it tunnel through her body like a worm. It slithered along her spine and burrowed its way into her head. She didn't feel pain and began forgetting bits and pieces of what had happened. What she did know was that this was the end. A sense of acceptance calmed her face. This was it.

Marilyn looked up to see Sandy standing in front of her, her red dress sprinkled with white dots. Her face was both innocent and terrified. Helpless. All Sandy could do was watch. Watch what happened to her father. Watch her father do the same thing to her mother.

"Sandy," Marilyn called.

A tentacle began wrapping around her neck.

"Run."

As Marilyn's vision began to fade, she saw Sandy heading for the door. Sandy turned back one final time, making eye contact with Marilyn before everything went black.