The bell goes off, and I shift, preparing to sacrifice my innocence.
***
Later that night
Nothing could have prepared me for the tiny coffin. My rage when they flung the child’s lifeless body slammed it on the arena floor like a football. He was barely bigger than the size of a doll I had once, not much bigger than me.
I killed someone and people cheered.
The words sink in deeper as I think them. My hands tremble. I clench and release my fists, trying to grasp the horror of what I’d just done.How can I ever live with myself?
I hug my knees to my chest, face buried, eyes squeezed shut, praying this is a nightmare.
I’m going to hell.
I rock back and forth on the cold floor of my cell.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Wake up!
When I open my eyes, I’m still in the same cold, dark dungeon, my hands still stained with sin.
What have I done?
I sob as tears fall from my cheeks to the floor beneath me.
“I see congratulations are in order. Glad to see you’re still standing,” Mylos says.
I lift my head, appalled. “Congratulations? Imurderedsomeone.” Saying it out loud is even more exasperating. “What I did was—was—horrible.”
“What you did wasnecessary. Ah, come on, don’t beat yourself up, pup. It’ll get easier.”
The thought that something as awful as taking a life would get easier is even more terrifying.
“Easier? I don’t want it to get easier. I don’t ever want to dothatagain.”
“Aw, but then who would I have to play games with?”
With a shaky voice I ask, “What is this place?”
“Down here, they call itthe Pound. It’s a dog fighting ring. And your only way out is death, pup.”
The first aid kit hits the floor in front of me and clothes are thrown at me. If you could even call them that. They’re more like rags.
“Nice job, kid. You just made me a lot of money. So, tonight, you’re getting a steak.”
The door to my kennel closes. I glance at the first aid kit, then scan my body. When I look at myself, it seems different, like it doesn’t belong to me.
I inspect my wounds from the fight, and it sends a chill up my spine... there isn’t a scratch on me. I didn’t get hurt because Ididthe hurting.
My heart races, and my breathing becomes labored. I drop to my knees and put my hands together in prayer. “Please... Please forgive me. Please... I didn’t want to. I swear, I’m a good girl...” I suck in the snot with a big sniff and swipe my tears with the back of my hand. “Don’t hate me, Moon Goddess. Don’t forsake me. Please don’t punish me like this. I’m sorry.” I clutch my chest at the pain. “Please make it stop. It...hurts.”
If this is my life, then this is what the Moon Goddess wants. She wants me to wear my sins, and to punish myself. I sob until I’m hyperventilating. It’s like when you’re swimming and finally surfacing from the water and filling your lungs with air. It’s the most frustrating and uncomfortable feeling.
I need a release.
My upset triggers the beginnings of the shifting process, when my vision sharpens and canines prick my lip. I let my claw elongate, and I cut myself. Only then does the pain to my chest subside.
When I cut myself, I can breathe. The pain is focused, but when I bleed, feelings become more fluid. The emotions aren’t bubbling inside anymore. They have a release valve out of my body.
