Paper Cut
Chapter eight
Gracie slammed her fists to the floor. She was sure this time the bones had fractured. Hands spreading out, she dragged her clawed, disfigured, ugly hands toward herself. The padded floor ripped under her power.
It was happening again. The youth had come up with two explanations. She was either extremely insane, or she was very ill. Either way, there was something very wrong.
Another gush of pain and she doubled over, letting out an inhuman scream. It hurt, and the pain made her angry. She shouldn't be going through this. It was embarrassing.
She was naked, bent over and bleeding everywhere. Her body was changing and shifting. Gracie felt ugly and self conscious. She knew they were watching her, studying her. In this state of being, she was aware of many things. Her thoughts were not clouded as they usually were. Her teeth shifted, pointing into fangs.
In this state, she knew what she was. There was too much pain to doubt it. This was not insanity, this was real pain. Horrid, ugly pain. And she belonged to the pain.
Scratchy Scritch Scratch
The goddamn bastard was taking notes.
It was loud, scratching in her mind, digging and ripping into her thoughts, reminding her of their eyes. They made her nervous, and she felt like prey.
A roar burst from her fanged mouth. Her body finished its change and she fell to the floor, exhausted and in pain. Breathing heavily, she laid there.
Scratch Scritch Scratch-Scratch.
He was always there, taking notes. For the past two weeks that she had been awake, he was always there taking notes. She growled in annoyance. He was right behind the glass, fleshy and vulnerable. She was angry and hungry and in pain and he had the gall to take notes.
She threw herself at the glass. Again. For the second time that week. He didn't get it. She didn't want him to watch her change. She couldn't let him watch her. The man was continuously scratching into his note book, the noise boring and burying into her skull. He was writing about her change, writing about something so private and new to her, the time when she is most vulnerable to attack.
The ruffle of papers, the click of a door; he was out of that room. She backed away from the mirror and hid herself in the corner of the padded room, as much as she could hide. She curled around herself and wished for freedom.
The se were the times that her legs ached to run. She wanted to breathe fresh air and chase down her food. Gracie stayed put, quiet and out of the way, tucked in her corner and pretending to sleep. She laid her large, black head onto her strong, thick paws and closed her eyes to reflect on that night at the youth camp site.
She didn't know there was someone else listening.
--
Okay. So what happened? I remember what happened in the dinning hall. That bitch Jenny thought she could pick on me, throw food at me, laughing about no one willing to sit with me. Heh. I slammed my dinner right on her chest, yeah, and then I was sent to my cabin to 'think things through'. Stupid youth leaders. Stupid Mormons.
So then I had to walk back to the cabin, the one I was sharing with Jenny and her 'friends'. I got to the cabin before Jenny could convince the gander of geese to flock with her back to our cabin. So they came in shortly after.
Jenny thought I'd sit there and let her pick on me, about my weight and about my glasses and about my lack of friends. She thought I was a good Mormon girl who'd turn the other cheek. And she got a surprise when she mentioned my brother and turned her back. And she got a surprise when I grabbed her hair and slammed her face into the ground. But the other girls took off running to find a counselor. They didn't even try to protect her when they saw me jump on her back. When I heard the first girl screaming, I didn't think anything of it. But then they all started screaming and I got off my victim to check the others.
And…And… I covered my face with my big black paws. I saw all that blood and those creatures. There were three of them that I could see. I stepped outside and only had a second before it jumped on me, and ripped open my abdomen.
I shuddered to myself, but I had to remember. I had to. It was what kept me sane.
They got distracted when more girls took off running and screaming out of the dinning hall. The thing on top of me took off after the still fresh prey and I was left to scrape my innards on the floor, to find a hiding spot.
Jenny was inside and she screamed in horror about my state. But there was something else about her, she was happy to see me ripped open and bleeding. She was laughing at me. She was always laughing at me. And then one of them smashed its claw through the window and ripped part of her head off. Then, as she scrabbled, trying to get away from it, everything went black.
And I was in the hospital. I had been dealing with that same pain for the last few weeks. But it had lessened greatly. I reflected back to my weeks of imprisonment. I know I am not well. But something needs to be done to make me better, or I will go insane.
I know there was leadership between the beasts…
They are still alive. They have lived through this hell. But that would have to be a different matter. They were obviously free to do as they wished, kill what they wanted. So they are insane and I am insane but I have these padded walls to keep others safe from me. They would have killed people before. Would I kill someone as this beast? Would I kill someone as innocent as young church girls? I doubted it--but I had also just jumped at a mirror because someone was behind it writing about me.
Even after all the contemplation of my sanity, one question still hung over my head.
But when will I be let out?