Catharsis

THIRTY SEVEN

With hesitation, I look up through my lashes at my reflection. There's a creature in the mirror wearing my clothes. Deep red irises on bloodshot eyes stare back at me. Dirt and dried blood smudge across every inch of my face to the point where my complexion isn't even visible. Fangs show white in the space between my chapped lips. I pull up my lip to see where they come out of my gums. That alone is enough to split and bleed the thin, fraying skin around my mouth. There's short, scruffy hair along my jaw which was expected since I have gone nearly three weeks without a shave. I grab the slouch of my knit hat and pull it off my head. Both of my ears are elongated, pointed at the tips and growing coarse brown hairs. I cover them back up.

My brain can't make sense of what I'm seeing and I don't want to understand. All I know is that I hate this. With everything in me, I hate this.

I make a fist and send it in the direction of the wall, but I don't make contact. Instead, I squeeze as hard as I can until I'm shaking. Fuck, I want to scream this all away. I pull my hat down over my eyes and brace myself against the wall. There's a furious rage pent up in me and it's not just toward the asshole who fucked up my life beyond reason. The truth is: it was happening before he came along. Sure, he sped up the process, he wasted away my time, but there was some higher power who dealt me this hand in the first place. God, Goddess, Satan, whoever or whatever. It was going to happen eventually and now here I am. I must have done something wrong to make me like this.

Now the worst part is that I'm going to die like this. Hopefully no one finds my body. The thought of Mom saying her last goodbyes to a sideshow freak instead of her actual son, it's a punch to the gut. Emma is the only reason I'm not dead. I'm going to rest on my resolve to get her out of here. I can't give her any more time, though. I need to be done with this. The next transformation is in a couple of days and I don't know if I will wake up.

I pull my hat back in its proper position, then splash some cool water on my face. It washes off me, brown and dirty, revealing my real skin underneath. Stay alive until she's safe. That's it. Simple. I'm under conviction now and I'll see this through. I swing open the door and jolt when I see Emma leaning up against the brick wall hunched over.

"You alright?" She asks and without waiting for a reply she jumps in front of me, holding something behind her back. "Guess what!" She rocks up and down on her toes and bites her lip with anticipation.

"What is it?"

Plastic crinkles as she thrusts a shopping bag in my direction. I take it out of her grasp and peer inside. There are some black gloves and a pair of wayfarer-style sunglasses.

"Thanks for this, Em," I say and slide the sunglasses on. Mostly just for her entertainment. "How do I look?"

"Like a rockstar," she says with a grin. "Like you're on tour for your number one album."

I smile back. "You're killing me, kid."

"I got it so that you don't have to worry about being seen. Plus, I got us matches, water, and some snacks." She holds up a second plastic bag.

"Good job," I say and make my way around the gas station. Emma comes up in my wake.

"What should we do now?" She asks.

"Last night's sleep didn't do me a lick of good so I'm going to rest for a few minutes before I take you home." The two of us head back into the woods and take up a dirt trail for a few minutes. Emma skips ahead, seemingly pain-free as I search the area for a clearing to start a fire. An hour or so around a fire should be enough to chase the chill out of me. There's a small patch of land that juts down just a stone's throw off the path. I take the opportunity.