Kierra

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's 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.

I look back up before my brain can really make out any details of my new body. The smells that assault my nose... my God.

Gazing at the two men in front of me, I'm looking down at them. Sweet. My anger still boils however as I glare at them, my lip raised in a snarl. With what they were doing and would have done flashing through my mind, my control snaps. Rage fills my head, a cry for blood.

Lunging first at the one who dominated my childhood with pain, fear, and hopelessness, the one who made it so I was taken from my family and put with people I didn't know or care for. Shaking and haunting my trust in any who got close to me. The one who had broken my family apart.

I rip into him, causing him to fall back, strong claws going through his clothing and shredding his skin like wet paper. His intestines fall to the floor in a steaming heap while his belly expels the rest of its contents.

Whirling to the side, I catch Fred by his neck. I remember him now, my mother had kept tabs online on where James had lived and had found out that he roomed with another child molester. They had lived near an elementary school, even though it was "ordered" that they could not be within so many miles of one.

Lips raise in a snarl as I wrap my large clawed hand around his neck and squeeze, lifting him from his feet. His eyes bulge and his face turns purple. Hands go to his neck, trying to pry me off. I smell the acrid scent of urine.

Grimacing, I drop him to the floor. He isn't dead, not yet. The dumbass doesn't even have the brains to stay down, he gets back to his feet and runs for the door, coughing and clutching his throat.

I let him get a few feet away, but the split second it takes for him to glance behind costs him his eyes as I rake my claws down his face, slicing through bone. I leave him holding his shredded head and turn back to James. Standing above him, watching as he tries to push himself away from me. Trying to put his insides back, shouting and yelling the whole time.

I think I hear 'fucking bitch' among the words, but can't be sure with his mewling. He looks up at me as he begs for his life. Begs for mercy.

Turning over onto his belly, leaving trails and puddles of blood, he manages to crawl a few feet away. The slippery cement makes his progress slow as he collapses time and again. I stalk him across the floor, flashing eyes intent on his movements as I take pleasure in this. Way more than I probably should.

Kicking him onto his back, tears flow from his eyes as I crouch down next to him, my legs no longer in the shape to kneel properly. Not when bent like a dog's hind legs. I grab his exposed intestines, they squish in my hands.

His blood smells sweet to my nose. I pull out his lower innards, yanking them from his body. His screams are louder than Fred's.

I pull out his guts and drop them beside him, the sounds of wet, steaming meat splashing onto the floor plays like music in my ears. With them removed, I reach back into him, going under his ribs and between his lungs to grab his heart.

"You will haunt me no longer."

I yank on the pounding organ, the muscle ripping from its home and into my hand. Claws raking against his higher remaining organs and ribs. His screaming stops and his flopping around ceases.

Too bad. I was beginning to seriously enjoy it.

Blood-lust rising, the urge to kill rides me hard still. Fred is still screeching behind me, on his knees cradling his face. Don't know why he mourns it so; it wasn't much to look at.

I lick at the blood that has splattered onto my face with a long tongue. The taste and smell make it hard to pull away. The thought of who's it is being the only thing able to push me from it.

Tainted meat.

Rising to my full height, I walk back to Fred, footfalls soft with only the clicking sounds scraping against the ground, and those are hidden by the constant whining. I walk around him, claws running over exposed skin, making him dance in place. The smells filling my nose tell my brain that I will be well fed soon, just have one more to kill.

Kill yes, but I have the urge to play with him first, to torment him. This man doesn't deserve a quick death. Fred's blubbering is hardly recognizable as words as he begs. Stopping behind him, I lean down with my large, furred hands on his shoulders, muzzle dipping in close to his head and ear.

"I believe you are the one who wanted to sell me, yes? Bet you're wishing you did that before, hm? Too late now I'm afraid. You don't want to miss your own party..."

My voice is low, deep and evil sounding, causing his cries to become louder. The sharp scent of his urine is overwhelmed by all the blood and meat. My jaws shut close to his face, the loud snap causing him to jump and scream.

You know something is wrong with you when the very sound of it excites you, heats your blood and makes it thrill throughout your body. The urge close to that of sexual gratification at the expense of another.

"You're not worth the air you breathe, I hope you know that."

His constant crying is hardly enjoyable. No fight, no fun. Pulling my head back just far enough, my jaws open once more and settle at the back of his neck. I stand, holding him between my teeth, clenching them harder and harder till I feel the wet snap of bone.

His cries had gotten higher-pitched, more of a squawk, then it turns to gurgles then silence. My head shakes in a fit of instinct before I let his body drop. Coming back to myself, several steps are taken in reverse before I stand there, breathing deeply, coaxing my rage to cool.

It leaves my body feeling cold. Cold on the inside that no blanket or cup of coffee could warm. The heavy smell of ruined meat is cloying in my nose, mixing with piss and perforated bowels.

Walking to and up the stairs that lead into the house, the wooden steps creak below me. At the top, an open door leads to a small kitchen. I look around, a little dazed.