Shapeshifters

3. Fortified in Pain

At first, I was falling.

Dropping endlessly into darkness, my stomach turning, my hands cold with fear.

Then I fell long enough to lose my sense of gravity, to grow used to the fall, to forget if I was falling or rising.

I've been falling forever, it doesn't feel like it will ever stop.

The next moment, I'm pinned in space, floating.

And in comes the pain. It comes and goes in waves, it starts on my heart and crawls under my skin to my hands and feet, as if my blood has turned into thick goo, scalding my veins, draining my forces.

At times I feel nothing at all, and at times I feel this pulsating pain.

It's useless to try to move. My head is disconnected from my limbs, they no longer belong to me but to this strange space I am trapped in.

For the longest, there was movement, then, there was stillness, then there was pain, and later, came nightmares.

So real, so palpable, so true to my memory I question if I've turned back time.

***

My small feet crush the dirty snow on the pavement, these boots are too old, too worn to keep me warm, it doesn't help that my right hand is wrapped in gauze into a ball that doesn't fit a glove, my fingertips are freezing.

I keep a steady pace, avoiding eye contact with the adults rushing to work, the mothers with children in carriages, workers unloading trucks and opening shops, getting ready for the day.

I'm 10 years old, seeing the world from a shorter point of view again.

There was an incident last night at the convent, another crisis, powerful hallucinations, my burned hand still hurts. As easy as it is to fit into everyday life outside, I'm not as lucky inside the convent, the nuns and the girls kept staring at me like I was sporting a deadly contagious disease, so I was eager to get away this morning.

The public library is not far, just 4 blocks ahead.

It's winter break so the city dances to a relaxing tune of children spending their afternoons in snow-covered playgrounds, public servants hanging Christmas decorations in squares, and religious youth groups on door duty collecting donations.

This is a mainly residential area, with only a couple of coffee shops and convenience stores to keep the streets busy. The next block holds a private all-boys boarding school, a giant red bricks building with a large lawn around it, delimited by a short metal fence separating the grass from the sidewalk.

I usually take a longer route so I don't have to pass it on my way to the library, but at this time of year the students have gone home for holidays and it's mostly empty.

I make the first turn around the building before I notice there are some boys grouped close to the side of the school, they are wearing heavy navy blue winter clothes, the institution's insignia sewn in their chests.

Guess I spoke too soon.

Some are pushing each other and laughing, throwing a ball around, others, a little older, taller, are seated on a bench under a naked tree a few steps ahead, smoking cigarettes.

I lower my gaze as much as possible, focusing on my hurried steps on the wet pavement.

-Hey, you!

A shiver runs down my spine, freezing me in place, I don't raise my head, I hold my breath for a quick second.

-Yeah, you, bushy hair! -I make the mistake of looking, one of the boys on the bench, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, he's tall and scrawny, face red and sprinkled with puberty signs, he stares right at me, a lazy smile growing on his expression as he senses my anxiety. -Where you going?