Chapter Text
Today. I do not want it to be today.
The day the boy had always dreaded had finally arrived. Why can I not have the Heofan Stan in hand, pulling me towards the sky and far away from this horrible night? There is no avoiding it, I suppose. I wish I could believe that it will not be that bad. But all he had to do was think about the one time he caught his father’s Night Creature slinking down the hallway. His stomach had twisted inside him, looking at what his father was: a rat.
Is that what I am going to be too? A rat? Like father, like son? The thought felt like it was choking him. I do not even know what to expect.
The boy’s nerves ate away at him. He had to force himself not to chew on his fingers, having been driven out of that habit by his mother when he got back from school. But he was terrified! At least I am not alone. But, I did not think Father would care about helping me through my first transformation. He has never wanted to soothe me before. He stopped himself from shaking his head, not wanting his father to notice or ask him why. I wish I could believe he cared, but past experiences certainly challenge that idea. Even so, he was happy he was not alone. His father sat across from him and promised he would stay through the transformation.
He had never seen his father’s transformation, so he did not know what to expect. Do you just fizz out and in your place is your Night Creature? Am I going to watch him actually become a rat? That would be strange. The whole thing horrified him, especially as he looked into the cold eyes of his father. The man was rather thin and lean, a hard man who smiled quite often but never with kindness. His smiles were sharp, and they often cut. The boy was feeling increasingly unsettled by his father’s almost gleeful looks. It does not feel like he is here for me at all. I think he is more excited to see how this hurts me.
In that moment of clarity, the boy felt his entire body tighten. It is happening. There is nothing I can do to stop it. His father started to laugh, actually laugh, as the boy felt a rippling pain all along his skin. He wanted to be brave and strong, especially in front of his cruel father, but he had not expected this amount of pain. Each bone in his body was breaking and changing, making way for the new body. It was excruciating.
The boy had broken an arm once, at school, when he fell out of a tree. But that pain seemed pathetically small compared to the sensation of each bone in his body breaking. He heard someone crying out. They sounded terrified and in so much pain. Why can I not help them? Why is no one helping them? Only later did he realize that was himself. Joining the panicked cry was a strange chittering noise coming from a repulsively large rat. The rat’s entire body was shaking in what the boy supposed was laughter. This was the boy’s first moment of clarity. His eyes are the same cold, cruel ones they always are. I suppose the eyes cannot hide who we are.
The boy hardly understood where he was going or why. He just knew that he wanted to be away from his father’s cruel laughter. The way it changed from the laughter into that strange skittering squeaky sound made his own fur stand on end.
He stopped in the hallway, caught by the strange sensation. I have fur? I have fur! A shiver ran through his whole body that still felt tender from the transformation. Or maybe it is simply the memory of the pain. He looked at the fur covering his skin. It felt distinct from who he had always been. Now I am a person who has fur. Surely that does not make me a person at all. His thoughts were soon broken up by his stomach grumbling and a delicious smell pulling him towards something in the home.
He found the room where the smell was emanating from and pushed the door open with a clumsy paw. He stumbled inside, feeling shockingly disoriented, even in the home he had grown up in. Where am I? Food. I need food. He moved towards the table wanting to devour the platter that was covered in meat. A shame it is cooked. The thought surprised him, but not as much as the shrill scream that stopped him from moving.
He looked towards the scream and saw the person he knew was his mother. She was seated alone at the table, shrieking for help. She was hysterical. “A Monster! Get him out! Help! Help!”
Steppings, the butler, was not far and ran into the room, brandishing a fire poker. He looked ready to hurt the monster, and the boy shrank back. Please I did not mean to. I do not know why I am here. Please. I will leave.
Steppings looked a little closer and lowered the fire poker. “That is the young master, Your Grace.” But the boy could see fear lurking behind the butler’s cool words, but at least they stopped his mother from screaming anymore.
Instead, her voice turned cold and harsh. “So now you are a monster. Just like your hateful father. Although I suppose you are better than a rat. Still revolting. You smell like rotting meat. No one could ever love you." She turned away in disgust, "Get him out of my presence, Steppings.”
The boy looked with his strange eyes that were so different than his eyes hours earlier. He saw the butler who had always been kind to him but he could still see the fear lurking in the man’s eyes. He did not want to see that fear and he certainly did not want to be the cause of it. He turned himself away from the delicious smelling food and went back to his room. Luckily, his father had already abandoned it.
He curled up in front of the dying fire, wishing he was not alone. His paws felt clumsy and too large. They were difficult to control, but he finally worked out how to rest his head on them in a somewhat comfortable fashion. His tail twitched periodically, sometimes startling him as it settled against his legs. He felt an irrational desire to pin it down until he figured out how to control it. Curled in front of the fading light, the boy wanted to simply fall asleep and wake up when the world was one he could recognize again.
But he could not go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his mother’s frightened eyes. But it was not just his mother. Steppings had been frightened too. With cold realization, the boy understood that he was the terrifying monster to people. And he always would be. Who could ever love him?