2Chapter 1
At last, I am free.
Back and forth I raked my claws against the thin membrane of skin, scratching at that maddening itch, peeling the layers away. My face pressed against the suffocating wall; I could vaguely see shapes and colors beyond, and I tried to blink but all my eyes met was the scratchy skin.
Finally I heard a ripping sound and I could feel fresh air on my back. [Slowly, slowly now...patience...] My arms twisted as best they could around, wrapping my fingers around arched bone. It was the only thing keeping me from the outside. I snapped the bone from its socket. Releasing the bone from my grasp I was suddenly heaved upwards. At last I could feel the cool air against my shoulders and I surged forwards, kicking with my legs. The bones scraped against my skin, tender and exposed now. I flopped onto a rough surface, my limbs unfolding like the wings of a butterfly emerged from its cocoon.
I don't know how long I lay there, but as I did the ceiling began to spin rapidly in a circle, making me dizzy as my eyes closed. Images flashed across my vision, what I assumed to be the life of my host up until this point. I could feel the warmth of arms encircling me, could see the pastel colors blurring to form those first months of life. I saw another, a brother to my host, smiling at me. Then I switched to the years where my intelligence was growing within the child, I saw her, sitting on the floor of the kindergarten class, her brother watching her from a distance. She was eating her lunch, shoving huge chunks of sandwich and apple down her throat, a fine sheen of sweat plastering her hair to her wax-white skin. Her eyes showed no awareness save for a deep terror buried within her.
She grew in size rapidly, spurred by frantic strength and maddened by my unholy will she snapped her restraints and foraged the kitchen, eating everything in sight. When she had consumed everything there and found herself still craving more she made her way to where her parents slept. I saw her, bloated grotesquely, the weight of herself crushing her lungs and forming such blisters on her ankles that she was forced to drag herself on broken wrists across the floor. She was four years old by this time and I had grown considerably in her womb, forcing her own consciousness back to make room for my own, savage and instinctual.
Finally the visions stopped, and I could see the ceiling once more. Slowly I sat up, looking down at myself. I was covered in blood, yet still much the same as I had remembered. Standing up shakily, I stumbled, naked, out of the room to find the bathroom. I could remember where it was, and I drew back the shower curtain to step inside, turning on the water to blast away all the blood that wasn't mine. My legs felt awkward, my arms unsure and my head too heavy for my neck, but I was still glad to be alive.
At last I felt clean and I stepped out. Still stumbling a bit, I braced myself against the sink. I wiped away the steam from the mirror to look at my reflection. Nothing had changed. Cranberry red eyes stared flatly back at me, sunken into my head. Short plum-colored hair swept to the side to hang down to my ears grew from my scalp. My lips, set in pale skin, were no more than a colorless black gash across my face.
Up until now I had been successful in blocking the reason as to why I was here. Yet now I saw myself, awkward and exposed, reincarnated into this flesh that was not even a tenth of my original magnificence as a celestial being. Who was responsible, as I sank below the waves of the Oceana Major of the dreamtimes, for sending me to this place? What demons or angels were to blame?
There was an explosion of pain as my arm slammed into the mirror, large shards of glass slicing into my flesh. I screamed out my anger, daring any pain to stop me. My voice was harsh, tearing from my throat and reverberating around my ears. I gasped for breath, leaning against the sink and plucking the bits of glass from my torn, bloody arm. Running the icy water over the wounds, I was able to get my anger under control and think of what I would do now.
Food first, then clothing. Then what? What was there for me to do here on this earth? I couldn't go back, that I knew for certain. Perhaps I could find my contacts here...maybe they could help me...help me do what? What did I want? I looked at my red eyes in a shard of glass in the sink. I wanted revenge. That I would have...but for now, what could I do? The cold water helped me think, now that the wounds were free of any glass.
I had to fix this arm of mine, then I would think of what to do. I looked in the cabinets of the small bathroom and found gauze and disinfectant in a first aid kit, of which I quickly made use. I remembered that this was what my host's mother had done every time fresh sores would manifest on her ankles, the feet too tiny to support the massive weight they bore.
Now, food. The carpet felt good under my feet, though I still stumbled now and then. I was naked and though it would mean nothing in the celestial planes I now felt dangerously exposed. The stairs were especially a hazard, and I gripped the railing as I slowly made my way down.
The kitchen was a mess. The fridge stood wide open, the light harsh to my eyes. Rotting fruits and vegetables were strewn all over the floor. Flies crawled over rotting eggs, their stench hitting me in a foul wave. What was there left for me to eat? I opened the lower cupboards; all that was left were flour sacks burst open and cleaning fluids. The girl had been here as well. I tried the upper cabinets, where she couldn't have reached. At last! Bright unopened boxes of cheerios and macaroni and popcorn were for the taking.
I knew how to operate a microwave, I had been to this plane briefly in the past. Still, it felt strange to be actually working one. As the macaroni cooked I hastily finished off the box of cheerios, which was starchy and tasteless but it was food. Then I gorged myself on the macaroni, thrilling in the taste and the feel of it. I ate the entire box' worth, then started on the popcorn.
Finally I was satisfied, and I could think about my next priority, clothing. Going back upstairs, I found my host's room. Her corpse lay huge and bloated next to her bed. I covered my nose and concentrated on her closet. Lucky for me, her clothes fit, due to her rapid growth in size. I glanced outside the window, daylight hours were just breaking, but I could see snow out on the front lawn. The clothes were hideously garish and juvenile, but if I wanted to find anyone I would have to pile on layers and brave the cold.
I looked ridiculous, but at least I was clothed. I wore a yellow hooded sweatshirt over top several shirts, a knee-length flower-dress and a pair of fleece pants. On my feet I wore snow booties.
Suddenly I heard screaming. I ran out of the room, trying to hear where it was coming from. The parent's bedroom! I burst open the door, where I was met with the sight of bloody sheets and the remains of my host's poor parents. Next to the bed was a crib, and inside was a wailing baby. I picked it up, the bundle of blankets warm and soft.
"What do you want, baby?" I asked it, desperately trying to think of a way to make it shut up. It only screamed louder. Why hadn't my host had eaten it? She must not have been aware of its presence.
"What do you want? Food? Something to drink? Does your diaper need changing? What is it?" My voice was so awkward to use, it was nothing at all like my celestial voice.
Finally I decided to go through and find out what it wanted. I took it to the bathroom and placed it gently on the floor, unwrapping it from the blankets and taking off the diaper. A wave of stench hit me, and I reeled back. Its screams had died down to wails now, at least.
I fought back my revulsion and dug in the cabinet for the diapers. I found them and using a washcloth I cleaned *his* nether regions, placing a clean diaper on and wrapping the blankets around him once again.
I stood up and went back into the parents' bedroom. I would have to clean all this mess up later. Searching through their closet I found nothing to help me save for a strange looking backpack that I think was meant for carrying a baby. I was sure that this would come to use later so I shouldered it over my bulky clothing.
We went downstairs and I searched for food for the baby. All I found was an empty bottle. Babies drink milk, right? That's what I remembered. So I had to find some milk. I quickly realized that the milk had probably spoiled, being left out for god knows how long. It came to me that this baby was my charge, since it was my ravenous appetite that brought doom to the baby's parents. I couldn't find it in my heart to kill him, I had committed enough immoral crimes already.
I was stuck with a baby. I sighed, realizing that I would have to find a store of some sort and buy milk and food for him, that I had no idea how to take care of a baby, and once I ran out of money, then what? I would have to find a job, I'd have to support both of us for near the rest of our lives.
I couldn't bring myself to imagine living as a human, lowering myself to that level. I needed my powers back, I realized. I depended on them as a celestial being, and now that I was facing the torments of human kind I couldn't even begin to fend for myself.
I had to find someone to help me sort this all out. Who could help me? I sat down, cradling the baby close to my chest. Where were we, even? I had to know that first. How do you find where you are? What a strange question! I looked around. There, there was some mail on the counter! I crawled to my feet and made for the envelopes. The address read "Washington D.C." That's where we were? At least we were in a city, which meant I could reach places quickly.
I glanced at the living bundle I carried. He was awake, looking at me with wide, violet eyes. Did human babies have violet eyes? I couldn't remember. Instead I focused on who I could contact.
Who was in Washington D.C.? Madrigal...but she was dead, the last I heard. Better stay away from her area. Quarx? Yes, he should be home, but how would I find him? I thought back to my time with him, thought of where his apartment was. I would be able to find it. I would have to.
I stood up. Before I went, I would need money. Where could I find money? I made my way up to baby's room, ignoring the gory bed and instead focusing on digging through the pockets of a pair of pants that were carelessly thrown over a chair until I found a wallet. I searched through it, discarding the ID and all the other cards. I found several twenties and one hundred dollar bill, plus a couple of small bills. There was some change in another pocket.
I put the wallet into my hoodie. Clutching the baby to my chest I went to the front door of the house, pausing to put on the heaviest coat that hung on a stand and securing the baby to me in the strange baby- backpack. Taking a deep breath and pulling the hood over my forehead, I opened the door.