The pain came so suddenly and so hard that I practically passed out. I barely made it to my trash bin before I threw up. My skin was burning, I felt like I was on fire. For some reason, I sensed a desperate need to be outside. I ran to the back door and into the brush at the base of the mountain, grateful that we lived far enough out of the city that our neighbors wouldn’t see me in my pajamas. My entire body hurt, my skin itched and felt stretched too thin. I felt like I was too big to be contained in such flimsy material as my own skin. Sweat was pouring from my body, my hair sticking to my neck. I didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was pain. It went all the way to my core.
“Aunt Tash, are you out here? I heard a noise and saw the puke in your room. Are you feeling okay? You can have Bear tonight. He always makes me feel better. Aunt Tash?” I heard Ashlyn walking toward me but knew she couldn’t be near me now or I’d hurt her. I didn’t know how I knew this, but I did. I feared for her safety, both with and without me.
“Go back inside and call your mom. Tell her I’m sick and she needs to come home. Do not leave the house for any reason. Please, Ash, listen to me,” I croaked out with a voice that felt and sounded like I’d been swallowing glass. I heard her footsteps run back to the house and the slam of the back door. I prayed we’d both be okay, although it felt like I was dying.
Suddenly I felt my bones pop and crack, throwing me to the ground. I panted as I tried to contain the screams. My skin rippled as an unseen force rubbed against it from the inside. I wanted to scream with the pain, but didn’t dare risk having Ashlyn come back out here. I struggled to maintain consciousness. My hands grew in front of my face, the palms doubling in size as my fingers shrank back into talons. I finally understood what was happening. I was changing, like Raif.
Dear God, it hurt.
My arms and legs followed my hands, the bones popping, muscles reforming. I curled up on myself in pain. I could feel my insides changing into my new form. I kept my eyes and mouth shut until the force of the change made it impossible. I felt my face elongate and teeth sharpen. My skin finally ruptured into a mass of tawny fur and I knew I was done. The growl that escaped my throat confirmed that I’d officially changed.
JEAN BOOTH was born in Las Vegas, Nevada on a sweltering summer night. She’s spent most of her life in the midwest, alternating between Michigan, Minnesota and Florida before returning to her roots to settle down with a husband and cats. She, along with those that know her, affectionately refer to her as “The Crazy Cat Lady.” She’s worked in healthcare for the entirety of her adult life and was challenged in 2010 to finally start writing the stories that live in her head. When not writing, Jean enjoys cruising on the back of her motorcycle with her husband next to her. She’s an avid reader, reading everything and anything fiction. She’s also considered to be extremely “crafty,” making everything from clothing to jewelry to painting.
