First of all, a warning: of all the people whom I've shown this story to at school, 100% said they did not understand it at all (really). If it makes any of the below any the more sensible, realize that the entire story is written from Adrian's perspective who is, quite obviously, not sane.
Sight of the Hand
It was ticking. The clock. Adrian began to stare at it intensely. He remembered that noise. Tick, tick, tick, in sync with each of the clock's mechanical movements, Adrian added a new part to his drawing. Tick. A drop of blood. Tick. Another drop. Tick, drip, tick, drip, tick -
"What is that?" The student in front of Adrian. The drawing. Adrian looked back towards the drawing. That was his dream. It was always his dream, what he drew every day. But this dream was different. Adrian could tell, yes. This dream was important. It faded away into a massive headache, while Adrian tossed about on the bed screaming, knocking an already open container of sleeping pills onto the floor. The pain was intense, so much that he couldn't hear - and then it faded away and he heard it again. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick - "The dream," Adrian said, "is Death. The picture can't touch me, see? I'm immune." The class bell rang. School was over. The drawing was finished with the addition of the heading - "You are blind."
The dreams left Adrian. Everyone left Adrian. Sitting alone, the next day, just waking up, Adrian was alone. No, not alone. It talked to Adrian. Adrian, for the first time, was not alone.
"Who are you?" Adrian asked.
"You are blind," it answered.
"Who am I?"
"I am the Cure."
Adrian tried to find it, but it was always hiding. Somewhere. Maybe inside his head? He tried to bash it out, but he would always fall asleep. "Come to me!" he yelled at it once while in this state.
"I am to come," it replied.
That was Adrian's dream. And when Adrian awoke, he drew the dream - an eye. Bursting into flames, the paper hovered in mid-air and transformed - no, gave it shape. Eye. Standing firmly, Adrian said to Eye, "Cure me." And Eye blinked - Adrian was consumed by a massive fire that burned through and destroyed his house. But when the fire cleared, Adrian was still there. The picture cannot know him. No, not this picture... the other one. It will not know him. And so Adrian was immune.
He reached into the pupil of Eye and grabbed the switch there - it was hot. Burning, burning, burning, burning, burning, burning, burning, but then the switch was pulled - Eye disappeared into nothing.
Adrian examined his hand. There was a burn scar. An Eye. The scar, an Eye, on the palm of his right hand. And then, it blinked. Adrian moved it around, and for the first time, he saw. A business man, dressed in a fine suit smiled at him. "Now," said Death, "you can see." And Adrian screamed.
He walked at a slow pace away from home. His parents would be home in a few hours, yes, that was how Adrian's parents were. The businessman walked beside him. "So Adarynne," said the businessman, "what have you learned?"
"Life is not an illness," Adrian replied.
"And sometimes," Death added while looking at the bloodied gauze and bandages applied to the palm and top of Adrian's right hand, "the disease exists for a reason."