It nibbled tiny nibbles and skittered tiny scratches across her flesh. She tried not to scratch at it anymore. At least, not in the daytime. Not when people were around. They couldn’t see it, of course. They could see the nibbles and the scratches but they couldn't see the thing really leaving them behind. They could only see HER, bloodshot eyes and ragged nails, hands and fingers always moving over herself, touching, patting, searching. But they could not se IT, so it must be her. Of course it must be her. So no scratching allowed when the sun was up, no matter how many nibbles and scratches. No matter how much it moved and squirmed just under her skin. When the sun was up, people were up, and people saw but didn't really see. Night was different. She was alone with it at night, and it was alone with her. At night nibbles turned to bites and scratches turned to gouging slashes, but at night she could scratch back at it. Claw for claw, bite for bite, in the night