Amber Mead

 I hear James speak, but my body is in so much pain I can't move, even to wince as the needle sinks into my neck. Long hair had fallen into my face as I fell, it's obscured my vision, but I can see the dirty shoes in front of my face. Can smell them too as I breathe heavily.

 I don't know what they plunged into me, but I can feel it flowing into my veins. It's cold. I pray it won't knock me out as I fight against it. The churning in my stomach loosens but doesn't go away, the muscle spasms coming less frequent.

 They lift me, however I can't move, my body feels frozen. A paralytic drug then. With James at my head and Fred at my feet, I'm carried from the bedroom into a sorry excuse for a bathroom. A light is flicked on, I can see a yellowed toilet and an ancient-looking porcelain tub with an overhanging shower head. Brown stains cover the inside of it.

 They lower my feet to the floor next to it, James standing against my back and holding me up as Fred turns on the water. It runs brown, then yellow, then to clear.

 I'm really going to have to get checked for bugs when I get outta here. Probably tetanus to.

 When the water starts to steam, falling from the upper faucet, he looks back at me. His eyes still shiny as if he's on drugs himself. Somehow, I don't doubt it as I see them dilating. He takes the half step it takes to be right in front of me, ugly shit colored eyes travel in a leer from my head to my feet.

 Asshole. 

 I glare as hard as I can while his hands move out of my sight to the hem of my shirt. I try backing away but don't move. I can't even speak. Rage boils my blood.

 I picture it melting the drug from my system, bleeding it through my pores. My messed up arm jerks as he pulls and peels my torn-up shirt up and over my head. It hurts like a sonofabitch. I can't even gasp my pain, but my breath does hitch. His eyes widen as he takes in my torn up upper body.

 "Damn girl, what happened to you? You're just covered in bruises and dried blood."

 A frown crosses his face as he looks over my burning shoulder.

 Bruises? There should be open wounds, scrapes, gashes. My collarbone was broken and had been protruding if I remember right. How long was I out? Has it really been 3 days? My wounds would still be open, festering. I so badly want to look.

 Fred drops my shirt to the floor then moves to my pants. His hands so ham-like he has trouble with the button. My muscles jump in an effort to move. After he gets it and the zipper undone, he bends down to where I can only see the top of his head.

 My skin crawls as I wonder what he's doing till I feel my boots being unzipped. The nightmare at my back is pressing himself against me, his body really happy to be there. Burning bile rises as I gag, his stiffness pressing into my back.

 I end up getting leaned forward as he wraps an arm over my chest and fumbles at my bra with the other. Ripping it off before long. My rage grows icy. I had told myself long ago that I would not let myself be so helpless again.

 The cramps in all my muscles began to grow again. Does that mean the drug is wearing off? I hope so. I try to move my fingers. They ache, but I feel one move. A shot of hope goes through me. They don't seem to notice as they keep up what they're doing.

 Fred pulls off one boot just as James slips my bra off. His skin against me makes mine crawl. I can feel the small hairs along my body rise and begin to itch horribly. The other boot comes off. I try moving my fingers again, a few move this time, the knuckles popping aloud as if breaking.

 "Fuck! She's beginning to move, we have to hurry. You didn't give her enough."

 Fred sounds annoyed, his eyes hardening. James wraps both arms around me, my legs jerk and my knee's pop.

 "Any more and she'll go into a coma. She should have been out for a few more hours when we got here."

 James' voice almost sounds worried. Fred rips off my pants and underwear, wet and smelly clothes not a deterrent for this creep. Jerking my body forward and picking up my legs, they maneuver around the tub and practically drop me in it. Hot water pours over me instantly.

 I land on my left side, essentially rolling out of their arms as they drop me in. Poor left side of my body has been so abused I don't think it'll ever heal. The drug has pretty much worn off, but my legs hurt so bad that I can't even move to stand.

 The muscles of my thighs feel like they're moving, elongating. My feet itch horribly as they harden and stretch. My arms pop and grow, shoulder screaming at me as I hear it snap and reform. Something is seriously wrong; is it from the drug? Just what the fuck did they give me?

 My insides feel like they're on fire. I writhe as the water that hits my skin actually hurts. I can feel my face move and my teeth grow, sharpen, cutting into my lips. Eardrums ring, even my eyes burn.

 What the hell is happening?

 My body is in agony as I thrash in the hot water. Someone is screaming, and it's getting high pitched and annoying. I don't realize it's me at first, but once I do, I think I get louder, deeper.

 I look up at my tormentors who just stand at the side of the tub looking at me in disbelief and confusion. My arms and legs stretch and lengthen, the bones pop and crunch in extremely painful snaps. Spine shifts and pushes through my back as my knees break and reform. Black claws spring from my fingertips and toes as the bones elongate and grow thicker.

 Screams turn to growls and snarls as my vocal cords change. My skull moves and transforms, nose cracking and growing. Fur rips through burning skin in a wash of scalding blood as it starts at my head and moves down, my natural hair disappearing.

 Palms and the bottoms of my feet feel hard. My skeleton feels too large for my skin to hold, the wrong shape. My body grows and burns while I lay there in scalding water just trying to breathe.

 Pants escape as my breath returns to me, the screaming having stopped. The only sound now is the running of the water. I don't hurt anymore, rather I feel like I just had a several hours long, hard, total body workout. The tub feels small as I slowly turn and push myself up to stand. My balance a little wobbly before my center of gravity kicks in.

 Fred and James take a step back, catching my attention with horrified expressions on their pale faces. I raise my lips in a mocking grin and look down at myself. I have become that which I have written about, that I draw.

 A monster.

 A Werewolf; a Loup-garou, and I feel strong.

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