untouched by the sheer catastrophe of the
situation at hand.
We most definitely do not look alike at all except for a
similar point to our chins. Lots of people have pointy chins.
“I really need to go to the bathroom,” I say. “I won’t hurt
you. I just have to pee, and I’d like to take a shower.” This may be a lie. I’m
not sure yet.
Gabe considers this. Shades of lavender blush within the
cloud of color around his body. He says, “I know what Tarren thinks, but he’s
wrong. I hated to see you in these things.” He pulls out a pocket knife and
cuts through the cuffs. All the nerves in my arms are numb and then, suddenly,
spiky and electric. I tuck my hands protectively into my body.
“Don’t take too long, or we’ll miss it. Oh!” The smile jumps
right back onto Gabe’s face as if it was only taking a breather in the wings.
“I have something for you.”
Gabe reaches for a bag on the floor. “There was a comic book
shop next to the pet store. Should’ve seen the poor excuse for a lock they had
on the door. Anyway, I, uh, I got you a shirt. Tarren is picking up some other
things for you, but this’ll do for now. What do you think of Battlestar Galactica ?” He pulls a gray t-shirt from the
bag with the words “Frak You” imprinted on the front.
Ryan sometimes talked about the show with his nerdy friends.
I cry in the shower. Deep, rib-bruising cries. I can’t stand up, so I sit on my
knees while the water soaks my fevered skin. My body is sore all the way into
my bones and joints, and I worry that my skin might split open at the slightest
pressure. My wrists are torn up, but I don’t know how bad. I can’t look at my
hands right now. I just can’t.
My blood and dried vomit pigment the water then wash down
the drain.
And then there’s my mother, Karen. What if she doesn’t have
her inhaler when she gets the news that I’m missing? What if she mixes up her
anti-anxiety pills with her sleeping pills again? What if the stress gives her
another ulcer? I threw away the medical encyclopedia, but she’s found out about
WebMD, so now there’s no stopping her. Henry, my father, isn’t strong enough to
keep Karen under control. He’ll just work more. There’s a good chance he won’t
even care that much.
And even though I don’t want to do it, I lift my hands up
from the tub and trace the new seams Xing across my palms. They’re almost
invisible, except I know they’re there. The skin kisses together like colorless
lips, and I push my finger through the slit, wondrous at the heat and pain and
wetness inside. And yes, I am freaking out, but I can hardly manage more than a
low moan and a couple of sparse tears.
Non sum quails eram . I am
something different now. Something inhuman, and I can’t explain what it feels
like to not be the thing you always were. To hear hunger as a song no one else
can hear; a song that racks your body and entices you to kill. I am half convinced
this is all a dream, except the hunger is too loud for sleep.
After the shower, I stand naked in front of the bathroom
mirror exploring my pale body for any telltale spikes or horns or other
indications of what I am. I see a thin girl with honey colored hair turned dark
with water. Flat stomach, patchy legs, foolish purple bangs. A new musculature
hints beneath my skin. The eyes are different too. Ryan always accused me of
being overdramatic—of seeing things that weren’t there. Maybe, but I look into
my own eyes and I see ruin.
The shirt is too large. It swallows my body, and the sleeves
settle into the crooks of my elbows.
“Come on,” Gabe says as soon as I open the door. He hands me
a bottle of water, and I didn’t know I was thirsty, but I am. Incredibly so. I
guzzle the water as we exit the room.
* * *
We sit on the roof of the motel swinging our legs over the
side. I look past the parking lot, the blinking traffic lights and the
McDonalds across the street, trying to find something worth noticing in
situation at hand.
We most definitely do not look alike at all except for a
similar point to our chins. Lots of people have pointy chins.
“I really need to go to the bathroom,” I say. “I won’t hurt
you. I just have to pee, and I’d like to take a shower.” This may be a lie. I’m
not sure yet.
Gabe considers this. Shades of lavender blush within the
cloud of color around his body. He says, “I know what Tarren thinks, but he’s
wrong. I hated to see you in these things.” He pulls out a pocket knife and
cuts through the cuffs. All the nerves in my arms are numb and then, suddenly,
spiky and electric. I tuck my hands protectively into my body.
“Don’t take too long, or we’ll miss it. Oh!” The smile jumps
right back onto Gabe’s face as if it was only taking a breather in the wings.
“I have something for you.”
Gabe reaches for a bag on the floor. “There was a comic book
shop next to the pet store. Should’ve seen the poor excuse for a lock they had
on the door. Anyway, I, uh, I got you a shirt. Tarren is picking up some other
things for you, but this’ll do for now. What do you think of Battlestar Galactica ?” He pulls a gray t-shirt from the
bag with the words “Frak You” imprinted on the front.
Ryan sometimes talked about the show with his nerdy friends.
I cry in the shower. Deep, rib-bruising cries. I can’t stand up, so I sit on my
knees while the water soaks my fevered skin. My body is sore all the way into
my bones and joints, and I worry that my skin might split open at the slightest
pressure. My wrists are torn up, but I don’t know how bad. I can’t look at my
hands right now. I just can’t.
My blood and dried vomit pigment the water then wash down
the drain.
And then there’s my mother, Karen. What if she doesn’t have
her inhaler when she gets the news that I’m missing? What if she mixes up her
anti-anxiety pills with her sleeping pills again? What if the stress gives her
another ulcer? I threw away the medical encyclopedia, but she’s found out about
WebMD, so now there’s no stopping her. Henry, my father, isn’t strong enough to
keep Karen under control. He’ll just work more. There’s a good chance he won’t
even care that much.
And even though I don’t want to do it, I lift my hands up
from the tub and trace the new seams Xing across my palms. They’re almost
invisible, except I know they’re there. The skin kisses together like colorless
lips, and I push my finger through the slit, wondrous at the heat and pain and
wetness inside. And yes, I am freaking out, but I can hardly manage more than a
low moan and a couple of sparse tears.
Non sum quails eram . I am
something different now. Something inhuman, and I can’t explain what it feels
like to not be the thing you always were. To hear hunger as a song no one else
can hear; a song that racks your body and entices you to kill. I am half convinced
this is all a dream, except the hunger is too loud for sleep.
After the shower, I stand naked in front of the bathroom
mirror exploring my pale body for any telltale spikes or horns or other
indications of what I am. I see a thin girl with honey colored hair turned dark
with water. Flat stomach, patchy legs, foolish purple bangs. A new musculature
hints beneath my skin. The eyes are different too. Ryan always accused me of
being overdramatic—of seeing things that weren’t there. Maybe, but I look into
my own eyes and I see ruin.
The shirt is too large. It swallows my body, and the sleeves
settle into the crooks of my elbows.
“Come on,” Gabe says as soon as I open the door. He hands me
a bottle of water, and I didn’t know I was thirsty, but I am. Incredibly so. I
guzzle the water as we exit the room.
* * *
We sit on the roof of the motel swinging our legs over the
side. I look past the parking lot, the blinking traffic lights and the
McDonalds across the street, trying to find something worth noticing in
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