Amanda

I don't want to see anyone, Katie included. Now that John's dead, I have nothing to survive on. Where am I going to get ambrosia? I'm not even completely sure what it is. Can I make it?Oh God, I'm too weak, and the stomach pains are getting worse. I avoid looking at myself. The way my skin changes scares the crap out of me. I'm happy John is gone, but now I have no idea how to survive... I have a terrifying thought, maybe I shouldn't. It could be a sign to give up. If my parents weren't around, I probably would. It's not like Katie's alone anymore. Would my mom and dad miss me that much? It doesn't matter. I can't go on like this. Another day or two, and I'm dead, whether I wish it or not.

"Argh God!"

Another spasm of pain tears across my abdomen, and I keel over, gripping the comforter as my vision goes black. sucking in a deep breath, I open my eyes to see stars wink in my vision. It has to stop! I'd do anything to make it stop. "Please God, make it stop!"

Getting up on shaky legs, I make my way to the fridge in desperation. It's empty. Of course. my parents have been here and cleaned. A quick look in the cupboards confirms my assumptions. Nothing appeals to me, and I can't eat food, anyway. If I had to go through puking anything up at this point. I think that would be the end of me. I scan the cupboard again out of desperation, and my eyes catch on the small bottle of honey. The thought of the sweet liquid sliding down my throat causes me to moan. I push the tea boxes aside and crack open the little bear shaped tube, sucking at the sweet substance. It easily glides down, filling my empty stomach. The queasiness and aches subside, but I'm still not sated. I suck the bottle dry, my eyes roll with satisfaction, and some of my color comes back along with the bright patches and scales. They throb in sync with the beat of my heart. I cringe at the abnormality. It sucks being uncomfortable in your own skin. Not knowing your body in the middle of your life really messes with your head.

My phone rings, and I look at the screen, and guilt washes over me. It's my mom again. That's the fifth time she's called. I'm not ready to see them. When Katie dropped me off, they were already here and waiting. My condition had them both in tears. Seeing me like this would crush them, not to mention terrifying them, and I'd be kept in the hospital. I look worse, much worse than yesterday. Even if the doctors could find a way to help me, and that's a big if, by the time they did, it would be too late. I already feel a slight ache spreading in my lower belly. Maybe I need to be drugged or something. to get rest. In captivity, the only time I could sleep was under that shot John gave me. Honey! I need more honey! maybe even fruit or some edible flowers? I remember John fed me that once, and I managed to keep it down.

I make my way to my dresser, feeling light on my feet, I'm slowly moving but not by choice. When I grab a pair of jeans and slip them on and they fall off immediately. How much weight have I lost? I've always wanted to lose a few extra pounds, but not this much. I let out a nervous laugh. There's no way im going to die like this, definitely not by starvation. Ruffling through the drawers, I find my sweats with the drawstring and nervously pull them up, tying the strings as tight as I can. They bunch and puff out at the sides. The get-up looks ridiculous, but what do I care. I reach for my bra next, my mouth forms on a wide oh, it won't fit, how is that possible? I've lost so much weight my jeans won't stay up, but my breasts are bigger?

A frightening thought runs through my mind, and I run to the mirror looking for any surgery scars. Big mistake! I stare at my reflection. Not even recognizing myself. My ribs are showing, and my cheekbones sunken in. I look frighteningly gaunt. The bright abnormal array of colors on my skin seems to surge like a neon sign, and somehow, my breasts are larger, about two sizes more. The areolas darker, but I find no abnormal markings. Nothing to prove they've been altered. I'm bewildered by the development. In such a short amount of time, my body has transformed into a shell of my former self. My surface matching my mind. I laugh hysterically at the entendre. all the while. My stomach quivers and the pain spreads to my pelvis. I grip the sink to keep from falling as the sharp aches threaten to buckle my knees. With no time to waste, I throw a sweater on and make my way to the store, I'll eat the whole damn fruit stand if I have to.

It's a wet and gloomy day, and I'm thankful for it. I feel cold, but it gives me a reason to wear my hood concealing myself without looking out of place. The streets are emptying rapidly as the rain picks up its steady tempo. With the sidewalk bare I'm able to walk faster. The grocery store is about three blocks away when I freeze in place. My nose catches on a smell so good my mouth waters. I look around to see where the irresistible scent emanates. Apartment buildings and a shoe store surround me. Wait, there's a man in the alley. He's holding something. I turn slightly to get a better view. It's just a phone. I sniff in his general direction. Yes, it's definitely coming from him.

Before I realize I'm walking toward him its to late to turn around, and I hear the conversation. He's talking to his girlfriend. They're having a steamy discussion. He's aroused explaining what he's going to do to her when he sees her. I'm closer now, maybe ten paces away. My feet are moving toward this stranger who's in a very private and intimate conversation, and my brain is pleading for my body to move in the opposite direction. A thready moan of anguish gets his attention as I fall to my knees in the alley. The pain racks my body, and I go into spasms as it radiates from the pit of my stomach to my pelvis. I grow wet, and the sharpness fades to a deep throb. my body throws me in a tailspin of complete and utter confusion,

"Hey, miss, are you alright?"

I can smell his semen! I can smell it so profusely that I can nearly taste it. My mouth waters, and my stomach rumbles. I lose all sense of self, my control slipping. I'm not Amanda anymore, I'm some sick sex addict rapist I think in utter shock and disgust.

Grabbing at his jeans, I hastily reach for him and take him into my mouth. The taste is decadent, and my eyes roll back as I swallow the smallest amount. He rejects for a fraction of a second, pushing at my forehead when he realizes what's happening, but the moment my lips wrap around once more and my tongue glides the tip. His hand grasps my hair, pulling me closer. I'm yelling stop in my head, mentally gagging, devastatingly appalled, but on the outside I'm loving every minute of the act and in complete control. There is no fear of getting caught, no worry for his girlfriend, or even him for that matter. I'm just hungry, and this is what I crave, so this is what I take. I'm running on pure instinct, survival, I'm an animal.

When he finishes, I keep going, draining him completely as he leans back against the brick wall. He's out of breath and weak-kneed. When I finally snap out of the trance, gaining control of my body. I scramble back, getting far away from the stranger. He's eyeing me like I'm godly. I'm sickened by the act, looking at the man like he was the aggressor. He makes a move toward me, and I run. I run so fast my feet barely graze the ground. I don't stop until I get to my apartment and lock the door behind me.

What have I done? What's wrong with me? I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth three times, then scope just as many. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I jump back, startled by the sight before me. I've changed. Again! My lips are red, a deep merlot and plump, very plump. My hair is longer, reaching to the small of my back and curling at the tips. It's thicker and shinier, my skin is bronzed, the bright colors are completely gone, and my face is full and glowing. I lift my shirt, inspecting myself. My ribs are no longer visible, and my body is sinewy like never before.

I collapse down on the toilet and analyze the sensations in my body. I'm not in pain anymore, I feel full and sated. My exhaustion is gone, I'm energized but... I'm not me! Not by a long shot. That animal in the alley and the sex goddess in the mirror are nothing like me, and I want nothing to do with either.

It's a long while I sit contemplating ending my life. I even think of how, but that's as close as I get. Being raised Catholic, I don't dare condemn myself to a nastier fate. I'm not completely convinced that this isn't a hell on its own, but I still hold on to the hope it's not forever. The alternative, however, is for eternity.

I get enough courage to look in the mirror again. This time I'm calm, and I try to be impartial. I'm still there. The same eyes and features. My expressions are still mine, I'm just different.

There's a loud knock at my door that startles me. I drop the glass, and it smashes to pieces on the stone-tiled floor. When I bend down to pick up the fragments, the impatient raping gets louder. It shouldn't be my parents. I messaged my mother over an hour ago directly after she called and gave her the same excuse I gave Katie. Dropping the small pile In the trash next to the toilet, I push myself up, and a loud thumping bang replaces the persistent knocking. Giving me pause.I back up a few paces afraid the doors about to buckle. another loud crash sounds that once again rattles my door. I quietly look around for my cell and dial emergency services.

"Please let me in, I know you're in there!" A desperate and newly familiar voice calls out to me through the thick wooden door. I clutch the phone tightly to my cheek, a lady answers,

"nine, one, one, what's your emergency"

"Someone is at my door trying to break in." I stage whisper, my lips brushing the receiving end. The operator asks simple questions after I've rattled off the address. She's trying to keep me calm, and I answer them half-hazardly. The crashing has stopped, and I tip-toe stepping closer to the door, cautiously looking through the peephole,

"Oh my god!"

I drop the phone and back away with a shriek. The man I assaulted just minutes ago is the one trying to break down my door. His head is bleeding, his shoulder looks dislocated, and he's about to charge full tilt . I watch in horror as he runs the length of the hallway. Before he can bust in, I lock myself in the bedroom, covering my ears at the loud blow, I feel the vibration through the floor. Frantically, I push my dresser and bed against the bedroom door.

It's silent for a time, and I don't hear any noise outside my bedroom. Which means my entrance must still be intact. Quietly and slowly, I move the furniture out of the way but don't dare leave the safety of my room. Minutes pass, and I debate investigating when the knocking starts again, lighter this time.

"Mam? It's the police can you open up, please? We need to talk to you."

Oh, thank goodness! I hurry for the door, and when I open it, I see the paramedics loading his bloody, unconscious body on a bright yellow stretcher. I write a statement leaving it with the officer present, neglecting to add the Blow job part. He keeps looking at me, and I clear my throat to get his attention.

"Thank you, officer. If it's not too much trouble, would you let me know how the man makes out?" He laughs at me, and when I don't crack a smile because, well, now I'm confused. I wasn't being funny. He stops chuckling,

"Sure I could do that. Are you wanting to press charges?"

I shake my head side to side, "No! that won't be necessary."

He stares perplexed by my reaction, and I interrupt, making an exclamation to cover my guilt.

"I think he was drunk and lost or something. Besides, it looks like he's going to have enough problems when he wakes up."

The officer chuckles again.

"Accurate enough, it makes no difference anyway, mam. The state has to charge him for the destruction and disturbing the peace."

Well then, why even ask? I don't say what I'm thinking. Just smile and walk toward the door. I'm two minutes from snapping, and I just want to be alone. Finally, he takes the hint and starts to leave, stopping at the door. He grips the handle and looks me over unabashedly. I'm shocked at his decorum.

"Are you single?"

Are you freaking kidding me?

"No, I'm not actually, but thank you officer, have a good day!"

I shut my door more forcefully than what's polite; I don't feel so friendly right now. I'm scared and alone, and nothing seems to be normal since I've been back. What am I kidding? Things haven't been normal since the first injection John shoved in my arm...