The Burden

Reality blurs. Shut in this room, I hear the voices. The howls in the distance become words as I change. I try to write them as they begin to make sense but my hand hurts, aching, stretching, changing.

My mirror is broken, shards of glass strewn red and ineffective across the floor, my blood shed as the innocent killer inside me tracked across the pieces.

And I write as I listen to them calling me, commanding. You don’t know what they say as I do. My hand hurts, my head hurts. I scream make it stop I don’t want to change.

I am naked I know the change happens and my clothing will restrict and strangle and rip and tear.

My thirst overtakes me, I hurt all over. I scream a long, roaring howl. In the distance I hear the dogs call, screaming and impotent. I am the killer. I kill for them.

I open the door. She is in the closet. She shrinks away I feel powerful. I found her yesterday I’m so glad. The killer in me is thrilled.

Bound I remove her gag. Why am I here? she cries, hand raised.

sssh. No more words.

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