“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know for sure, as I have forgotten a lot.”
“Do you have other memories?”
“No, I wouldn’t call them memories, but impressions or feelings. I was the kind of man my father hated. Smart, not sporty. I think I killed him.”
14
Tail
Ishouldn’t be telling her any of this. It’s stuff I’ve kept to myself because I don’t want others to tear me apart. I don’t want to be tormented again. Until today, I wanted to be the tormenter.
I look at her, and the bruises that smudge her neck. I hurt her, and she didn’t break down and cry like I did. I don’t know how I survived my first few days here. She is already stronger than I’ll ever be.
“What makes you think that?” She hasn’t moved from the water.
I know she doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame her. But unlike Horn, I don’t want to be her friend. I don’t need to like her to protect her. It’s probably better I don’t like her. That way I can’t be disappointed, or sad, when she is killed. But I will take whatever she offers because I am enough of an asshole to want something for helping her. My father would be proud that I’m now a lot more like him.
For a moment, I feel sick, something I only remember from before.
I hate these new memories and sensations that are drifting through my body. I almost wish I hadn’t fucked her—but at the time, that was all I wanted. It was a consuming urge, like I needed to find out what changes she’d create in me.
Horn had gotten two fingers. I was hoping to grow two legs. The two dicks I don’t mind. Not that I’ve ever gotten the chance to use them, with someone else, before today. There’s no time for lust here.
So why hasn’t it faded?
Why do I crave the chaos she brings? Is it because like Horn, I want something different? Something other than the promise of becoming a different monster with each passing day?
Horn changed for the better, me? I’m changing for the worse around her and I don’t know if I can keep it locked up. I am weak and I know I will snap like I did once before.
I sigh and share the rest of the memory with her. “I remember putting the whip he liked to use on me around his throat.”
That’s the last memory I have from when I was human.
Not how I was sucked down here, or even the last good thing I experienced. Just rage and the moment I snapped and became the aggressor he never thought I could be. I proved him wrong and damned myself.
I’m not sure Julie is my salvation though, or the way out of here.
Her hand brushes her throat and I want to slide my tail around that delicate flesh. I think she liked it. I know I did.
“Maybe you didn’t kill him.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact I’m here and he’s not. Why isn’t he here?” My voice echoes off the cavern walls.
“Because he probably thought he was doing the right thing.” Her voice is soft and for a couple of breaths, I want to yank her out of the water and shake her.
“How could he think that?” But as I say the words, I know the answer. “He wanted to toughen me up and make me a real man. But I’m not any kind of man.” I stare at the fur and claws on my hands.
She gathers her clothes and walks toward me, water streaming off her body and catching on her scars. I didn’t notice them before, but I should’ve. One arm and leg have rough and twisted flesh, like the wounds never healed quite right.
“You can be any kind of man you want to be.”
My fingers flex, but I keep them by my side.
She picks up her bra then drops it, grabbing the wet shirt instead, and struggles to pull it on. The fabric is see-through, so I don’t know why she is bothering. At a certain point, clothing becomes irrelevant here. No one seems to notice or care. The only thing people worry about is how much of a threat you are. Will you attack or walk past?
I’ve done both. Some days all I did was lash out and of course, that only worsened my changes, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be preyed on anymore. By the time I did care, it was too late, and regrets are as pointless as clothes.