You were born with them.
They protrude from your skull, your hair tangling around them. They twist upwards, curved like old tree limbs weighed down by time.
Doctors have tried to explain them. They’ve all pretty much failed. Words like metastasized and unusual bone growth were thrown around a lot.
They grow with you. They were small when you were born, nothing more than tiny lumps that doctors dismissed as being the result of a treacherous and fast birth. But then, they started to grow.
You’re 21 now, and they resemble the antlers of any full-grown deer living in the woods peppered throughout town.
Doctors say the pressure they put on your skull is dangerous. They say it’ll eventually kill you.
You’re not dead yet, though you figure they’re probably right, anyway.
You figure anything can kill you, if you give it enough time.