Year: 1928
Anastasia sat on a sofa in what she guessed to be Mr. Alistair’s study. It felt too much like the lab therapist's room she would sometimes be taken to for ... questioning. She didn’t like it. She was uncomfortable here. The sudden weight off the top of her head preoccupied her for the most part. Growing her hair out for six years with no upkeep, and to suddenly have it so short it hardly brushed over her ears? It was such a dramatic change. Her hands kept coming up to play with it, to feel it, and familiarize herself with this new feeling. She hadn’t seen what it looked like on her yet. She was anxious to know. Did she really look like a boy? Even while wearing this blouse and this skirt? Panty hoes and heels were very new to her. She didn’t like them. The hoes felt restricting on her skin, and the shoes pinched her feet. Mary told her his was the “proper way” for a lady to dress. Anastasia thought it was ridiculous what lengths the women seemed willing to go to look “proper.”
A man suddenly came into the room. She didn’t look up, but she didn’t have to. The smell of incense and the thump of his shoes on the hardwood floors gave him away. Her assumption was only confirmed when he spoke.
“Hello, Alistair. You, wanted to see me?”
“Yes! Thank you for coming down, Father.”
“Anastasia, this is Father Brennan, one of our resident priests.”
Just as she thought. A man of the cloth. Perfect ...
“He’s going to ask you some questions. If you don’t want to speak, i can translate to him what you’re thinking, with your permission of course. Are you alright with this?”
Anastasia hesitated. She tried reaching out to ‘Him’ again, but ‘He’ refused to answer. She was starting to think she was actually rid of ‘Him’. Oh, how she willed it to be so.
“... Da.”
Father Brennan took a step forward. “Hello, Anastasia. May I sit next to you?”
“... Da.”
“Alright.” He took a seat on the sofa next to her, but left a noticeable gap as to not overwhelm her. “Anastasia ... Alistair called me down here because he thinks there is something ... well, different, about you. Is this true?”
Well, that was certainly one way to put it. She could do things now that she couldn’t before. Turn into this ... awful beast. This thing. This monster. Her hands fiddled together in her lap, and she stared intensely down at them.
“... Anastasia?”
“... Da.”
Father Brennan and Alistair exchanged looks briefly, and looked back to her. “Were you born this way, Anastasia?”
“... Nu.”
“Were you cursed by something? Or someone?”
“... Nu.”
There was a pause. He was probably trying to come up with a question that would provide him questions. “...Were you ... made this way by some sort of ... accident?”
Anastasia tensed up. The two men exchanged looks again. They were getting somewhere. They looked back to her once again.
“So, you weren’t born this way, but made this way by some sort of accident?”
“Nu.” It was the first time she had answered without a pause or hesitation beforehand. And while previously she had sounded compliant, her response had been snapped at him.
“...It...wasn’t an accident? Someone did this to you on purpose?”
“... Da.”
“Can you tell us who?”
Her hands shook in her lap. “... Nu.”
“Why not?”
“Father.” Alistair warned.
“... Nu.”
“Was is someone close to you? A friend?”
“Nu.” Her voice was stern, rough. She could feel it. She could feel the rage growing, taking over. It was starting again.
“A family member?”
“No!”
“Father Brennan that’s enough--.”
“Was it your mother? Father?”
“NO!” She shouted, her clenched hands and her shoulders trembling with anger. Stop it. Stop it stop it stop it. She could feel it. Starting in her fingertips, in her heart, in her toes, spreading throughout her body.
“Brennan!”
“Come on, Anastasia. We cant help you until you help us. Please. What did your father do?”
“NO!”
Brennan reached a hand out, touching her shoulder. “Anastasia you must--”
Snap!
Father Brennan cried out in agony and found himself thrown to the floor, but not before he saw his arm bent into a crooked, horrifying shape. Alistair rushed to his side, sitting him up, trying to look at his arm. His sleeve had been torn, the black fabric quickly soaking up red with a bit of white extending out of his skin. Nearly a whole half of the bone had broken skin. This was bad. He needed immediate attention.
“Father Brennan, can you sta--”
He stopped mid sentence when he heard the growl of a large beast. Oh no.
“Anasta--.......Ana...stasia…..?”
He couldn't believe the sight before them. The sound of ripping clothes filled the room, along with a sickening stretching and cracking sound. Anastasia’s skin turned grey, starting with her hands and feet, then out to the rest of her body. Her arms and legs swelled up with thick muscle, turning a dark shade of fuchsia, gradually toning brighter the larger they grew, tearing through the fabric she wore. Horns grew from her head, curling up, over, out, like a ram’s horn. Her eyes, pitch black except for the glowing fuchsia reptilian irises, sent chills down their spines. Her legs cracked and and jerked, morphing into three-toed, scaled reptilian hind legs. A long, thick, powerful tail swept the floor behind her, with sharp, almost feathery spikes protruding off of it. They had never seen so much raw muscle on such a small human being. Her arms and legs didnt look proportional to the rest of her. They looked like they belonged to a bodybuilder, not a malnourished young woman.
The transformation seemed to be complete. Her skin followed a gradient pattern, starting at her fingers, toes, and tip of her tail as a bright shade of pink, that faded to darker shades of magenta, that faded into grey, which was the color of the rest of her body. Her horns followed a similar pattern, but was darker at their base and lightening in shade as they curled out. Her large, sharp teeth were bared at them, and a beastly growl rumbled in her throat. She easily stood over seven feet now. Her intense eyes pierced through their souls it seemed, pure rage burning in them.
“N̢̧Ơ̡̡҉͜O̷̡҉̷!̀̀́͢!̨̛͝”
(NOO!)
Her voice was drastically different, resonating, booming, accompanied by an overlapping sound to it, like something demonic spoke in unison with her. It nearly drowned out her own feminine tone completely. She roared at them with such breath and command that Alistair could have sworn he felt the whole house shake.
“Anastasia...please…” Alistair held out a hand to her. “...you must calm down.”
"̶̧͜͢͡N̶͞҉͠͠Ơ͘͢͠!҉̧͘͜!̶̡͜͠͞!̴̀ ̧͜͏̷́D͘͜͠͝O̕͘͘͟ N̶̢͜͞OT̢̨̡̀̀ ̡T̷̸̨̨O͢͢U͏̸̕͢Ć̸̸͟͝H̷̢͠ ͝͡M̧̛͡͠͞Ȩ̨́͘͝!̨!̨̧̛ ̀͟͡͡͝S҉͘T̢͜Á̸̵̛͡Ý̴̴̷͟ ̢̧́Á̴̴͠͝W̷͟A҉̶̕͡Ý͢ ͢͠F͘͟҉͏R̷̨Ó͜M̶̷̢̕͢ ̶̡̨M͏̷͢͞E̴͝!̷̀̕͞͡!̢̛
(NO! DO NOT TOUCH ME! STAY AWAY FROM ME!)
“Anastasia, I’m not going to hurt you.”
"̸̢̛̛́Y͝͏͜Ǫ̕͏U̸̷͝͠'̴̸̨R̵̢̕Ȩ̸̀̕ ̸̸̛͜͝L͏̛́͞Y͏̶̢͘Í͢͠N͜҉͏͘͞G͝͠҉!̡͘͢͠!̀͞ ̨͜͟Y̧͜͢Ǫ̛̕U̸̴̷͜'̵̢͘͞ AŔ̸̴̢Ę͟ ̴̨̢̛͝L͏̵̨̧Y̵͞͠͡I̢̨̕N̸̶̴͠G͟͏̷!̧̨́͠͞!̶̡̧̨͘!̢̡͟͜͞ ̧̧̕͏̛P̸͘͢͞͡È̢͜͠O̷̡͘P̷͏̸͟͡L̕̕͜͢E̶̕͠͞͝ ̴̛҉A̶͏̛L̶͟͝W̶͏́A̡̢Y͢͡͡S͏̵̡͜͝ ̷͡Ļ̕͘I̢͡E͘҉̷͏̡!̕͢!̕͟!́͜͞҉ ̛͝Ţ͏H͡E̸͟Y̴̡̡̕ ̴̧͘͜͝O̴͜͟͡N̢̧̛͢͞L̵͜͏Y̵̛ ̢̧͜W̕͟͟͟A̴̷͘͠͠ǸT̡̛͘ ́҉̸̢͢T́͘͘O̡̨̢̡ ̸̡͝Ḩ̵̸̶͞U̸͡͡͞R̀͜T҉͜ ̶́͏͜M̶̡̡͡E̷͢͞͠!̴̵͜͝!̵̷́͟ ̸̡͠T̨̛̕Ǫ̷̸ ̶̕҉C҉͠ÙT͜͢ ̕͝M̵̶͘E̢ ̷̢́̀O̶̡͘P҉̡́Ę̶̡͜͡N̢͠,̛͠͝ ͡͝͏P̧͘͢U͜͏͡͞Ļ͡L͏̧͜ ̸̶҉̴͝T̀͟Ḩ̧́͢͡ÌN͠͏͟G̡͟S̴̡̨͝ ͏͘O͞Ù̵҉̷T҉̸̢ ̨̛͘͝A̢̧͠N̨͘Ḑ̕ ͠͝Ś̡T҉̛́͜͜Ú̵̧̀F͠͏͏F̸̢͜ ̧͘M̕͢Ơ̡͜͡͝R̨͢͝͏̷É̶̸̴͠ ́́͢͢T̢̨̡͘H̷͘͡I̧͘͝͞Ń̨̕͡G̶̶̡S̨̧̨͏ ͠I̵̧̕҉N͏̀!̢̧͘͢!͘͘͜͡"҉
(YOU'RE LYING! YOU ARE LYING! PEOPLE ALWAYS LIE! THEY ONLY WANT TO HURT ME! TO CUT ME OPEN, PULL THINGS OUT, AND STUFF MORE THINGS IN!)
“No one here is going to hurt you.”
"͏̶̶͡͞Y͜͢͡O̸̸̧̢͡U̡̕͏̶'͟͠R͘͢͟E͏̷̴ ̴̶̷́͜Ĺ̴̸̶͞Ý̢͏I̴̷̡N͏́͜G̷̴͜͝͡!̵̡͘͜!̀͢!̀̀̀͘!̸͝͠͠"͝҉
(YOU'RE LYING!)
Anastasia lunged forward, swinging her massive hand down on them. Thankfully, Alistair got them out of the way, but his desk suffered instead. Her talons sliced through it all like a knife through butter.
"̡́͟H̢͝Ę̀͜͝ ̛͝P̡͠Ư͡T͏́҉̕ ̴̛͜H̸̸̡̧́I̶͡S͟͟͞ ́H̀͜͝Á҉̴̢N̶̶҉̷͝D̕̕S̴̵̸ ͜͠͡Ớ̀̕N̸̨̧͟ ̵́͟M̴̵͡͡E̴͜͡!̡͘ ͘҉̀I̕͜ ̨҉Ţ̸̨͝͡R͘͟͢͟͜Į́E͠D̵̡͏ ̧͢T̶̨͝͠Ǫ̵̴͠͡ ́͞Ģ̡̀E͏̷͝T͏̴̛ ͞H̨҉̛I҉̡̡̛͜M͝͡ ̴̢̀͟T͘͟͞͏O̴̢̧̡҉ ̕͠S͜͏T̵̴̶͝͡O͏̷̢P̀͘͞͞,̛͟ ̛̀A͏͞Ń̸̢͠D̵͜ ̀͠H҉̨͏̵͞Ę̶̀ ̵̛͠K̵͘E̸̕҉̵̢P̴̴T̵͘͝ ̷̴G̵͟͞Ơ̵̕I͠͏N͘͞G̸̨͘!̡͢҉̕͢!̛͟ ̵͢͞ H̡̢͘͞Ȩ̴͜͜ ͝P̴̴U̵̕͞T̡̡ ͡Ḩ̛͜͢I͟͞͝S̕͜͜͟ ̀͡H̶̕Ą̡̧̛́Ņ͘D̵͟҉̵̸Ś̡̨̡͢ ͟͡͡O҉̧́͢͜Ń̡ ̀͞M̶̷̧͝͠E̵̸̡̕!̴̴̴̀͜!̵̸̛̀͝ ̴̷̡́͡N̵Ò̸̵͢͢ ́͜͡͞Ò̴̡͠N̡͠E̶̵ ̴T̡͞O̕U̡͠͏̶Ć̡͢͢H̵̡͠͞Ȩ̸̀͢͡Ś̸̸ ̸̸Ḿ̨È̷͞!̷̢̀!̧͘ ̴̧̛Ņ̷͜Ơ̧̧͡ ̧͏O҉̵̕͡N̶̕͝͠E̷̵̴̡͘!̢̕͢͝!̢̨̡̕͝!҉"͘͢
(HE PUT HIS HANDS ON ME! I TRIED TO GET HIM TO STOP, AND HE KEPT GOING! HE PUT HIS HANDS ON ME! NO ONE TOUCHES ME! NO ONE!)
“I know, Anastasia, I know. And I’m sorry. We didn’t know. But if you talk to us, we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
"̸̢͟I͘҉ ͠҉̵D͢͡͞O̴̷̢ N̸̢̛͡'͞͏̢͢OT̕͝͡͡ ̛͜W̨҉À̵̡͞͝N̷̷T́͟͝͠ ̀͏T̶͢O̴͟҉̡ ̨̢́͟T̢̧A͏̸͏L̡͟K̷!̛̀͡͠!̛̕ ͏͘I̛͘͟ ̷̸D́͢O̷N̡̡'̵T̨̧͜ ̵̴̨͞W̨͠Ą͢͝͡͏Ǹ̸̴̢̨T̨̨́͟ ̕͢͞T̷̡̕O̵̧͜ ̀͟R̴̛͢E̴͏̷͜L̛͟͟͠͠I̷͞V͏̛͘͝É̷͘͟ ͠͠҉̀͜Ẁ̴̨̛͠H̷̨͢͝À͘͜͟͞T҉̢͞ ̴̡̛͟͟H҉͏̶̛É͢ ̷҉̷͢͢P͏̢̛́͢U̸̧̧̢͡T̸ ҉M̀͢͝E̡͟ ̷̧Ţ͢H̶̨R҉̷́͏O҉̸̛U͟͡͝G̡̛͡͞Ḩ͝!͞͏̶͟!̨̕͞ ̛̀I̡͝ ̛C̴̡̕͞A̴̵̢̡͡Ǹ̸̴̢'̵̀͟NOT̡ ̶̢̨̕͝S̛͜͟͞T҉A̕͜͡N͏͜͝D̨̡̛͘ ̴̴̢̕͜I̛͡҉̧͏T̴̶́!̵̴̧͘!̵͢"̶̢͢
(I DO NOT WANT TO TALK! I DON'T WANT TO RELIVE WHAT HE PUT ME THROUGH! I CANNOT STAND IT!)
“And you don’t have to.” He released Father Brennan, and stood up. “You don’t have to tell any of us about what happened to you. But you cant just keep us completely in the dark, either. You have to help us, help you. We have to know, what is and isn’t permitted, like the physical contact for example.”
There were still warning growls coming from her, but she seemed to be listening. Alistair took a step forward, Anastasia stepping back just as far to keep the distance between them.
“Nobody here wants to hurt you. I can promise you that with the utmost confidence.” He took a few more steps towards her, and she backed into the wall. “It’s alright, Anastasia. You’re safe here.”
"̷̨̀͢N̷̛͏̢.̵̵͠.̷̷̷.̡͜͏N̢̛O͜.̵.̴̸͠.̸̨͜͞I̵̡͝.̸̛.̷̧̀.̛҉͟͝I̸̷M̸̨ ͘N̵̛O҉̧T͝͡͞.͜͡͠.̴̡͜͡.̕̕͟.̷̵͟"̵́͠
(N...NO...I...I'M NOT...)
He was just a few feet in front of her now, and he held his hand out to her just like he had hours before. Wasn’t he afraid of her? Why didn’t he cry, or scream, or run away, or strike her? She was a monster. A freak. So why?
“Anastasia….I don’t see a monster. I see a frightened little girl, who has been forced to face a cruel world alone. None of us can understand what you’ve been through. But we all want to help. I, want to help. Please. Trust me.”
Trust. Such a foreign concept to her. She hadn’t trusted anyone in years. The beasts she befriended as a child had more of her faith than human beings did. But this man, miss Mary, and that Jody boy...could, perhaps...the others be this kind too?
But what if they just wanted something out of her? To use her to get what they want?
...But what if they didn’t?
“Anastasia…?” Alistair proceeded. “Will you let me help you…?”
"̴̀.͏̡̛.̡̛.̧͟͞I͘͏̀́.̷̸̴͞.̀̕̕.̴Ì̷̶͝.͘͞.̴̸̡͟.̛̀͡.́͟͞͝Í̸-̡̕͟I͏̸͏́͟.̨́̀͡.̨͞.͞͝͞.͢҉"̢͘͏̷̡
(...I...I....I-I....)
“It’s OK, Anastasia. Take your time.”
"̴̡I̧͢.̷̢͢͡.̴̢̛͜͝.̛̀͢͟Ì̵̵̢͠.̧͏̢.̢̨̛͢.̷̶̵̵́.͏I͞͏̵͘.̸͟.̡̕͠I̸̕͢'̴̷͜M̀͟͜͜͞.̨̨̛.̵̡͏.͟͟͝͏.̵͘̕͞I̡͡'̵̸͜Ḿ̵̨̡͜.̛́̀.͜͡.̛͠.̛̀͝͏.̴͡͠͞I̡͘͠͝'̷̀҉̀M̵̧͡͞ ̷̡͘̕S͢͜͜͡Ǫ̵̧.͏͠.̴̷͞.̨҉̀͢͢.̶̷̸͢.̵͜͏̸.̶́͝Ŗ̛͠͞͏R̵̀́Y̴͘͘͠.̧͘.̴͠.̧͠͏͏.̸̨̡̀"̷͞
(I...I....I-I'M....I'M....I'M SO.....RRY....)
“It’s alright. It was an accident. We can get help for him. It’s alright.”
"̸̷̨́-̧҉͜R̨̛͘ŖY̧͏̨͠͞.̸͘.̨́͜.́͢I̢͟͢͠͏'̸̷̛͘͜M̸͞ ̵̢S̨̧̛O̢̨R̸̷̵̢R҉̸̀Y̵̵͘͟.̵̨.̛̀.̷͢͞͝Ì̴̧͘'̶̡͏m.͏̸͟͠…”
(-RRY...I'M SORRY...I'm....)
The shades of pink and grey seemed to seep back from whence they came, slowly, as she calmed down. It was much like the transformation from before, just in reverse.
"̧́͟͝ ͘͠҉í͘͘͞M̶҉̵̵̕ ̵̡̕͡͠S͏̕͝ó̵̷̢͘ ̨͜͞͡S̡̛͘ǫ͜R͜͞͏̀͠R͢͡͡y̷̸͏͏̀.͠.͏̸̕.̛̛̀͏̕.̕͢i̢͢͜͝-.̵̕͏.҉͏҉.̨̨͞.̨͏i͡͠ D̀͡íD̡̕NT̶́͟ ҉M̶é̴á͢N̴͡ ́͜T̵̸͘ơ̧.͘.҉҉.̛́.̛͠"͟͟͝
(IM So SoRRy....I-....I DiDN'T MeaN To....)
“I know Anastasia, i know.” Her own voice seemed to be overriding the other one now, slowly gaining control of herself. But even through the echo, he could sense her voice cracking. “It’s alright.”
"҉̵͏ ͢D̴̵o̷N̕T͠҉ ̨S̵͢e҉͠Ń̛D ́͜͝M҉e̴̢ ͝b̢aC҉́K҉̕.͠.͢͟.҉p̛L̷̨eą͠Ş̛́é͝͝ ̧̨͘d̨͟oN͏T̨́͟ ̸se̢͜n̶D̛ ̶M̢e͏͞ ͏b͡a҉C̕K͘ ̀͢TH̵̨éR̴͘͝e̴.́.̨͢.̴̷̢.̧̛̀"̨҉ She had turned almost completely back to normal, only the grey seeping away left. But now, there were tears streaming down her face. "̛i̕͞͝ d̴̨o͡N͏T͟ ́͡W̢͝à̷͜n̨͢͠Na̶ go̸ b̴a͡C͜K.̶..im͜..̧.im ̕şCa̕re̢d...͠.i̷.҉..͏i ha҉Té my̨Se̴l̸F..̴..͟ i͜ doN͟T wan҉t ̢T͠o b̡e tH̶i̕s.̕.̧.."̷
“Anastasia…”
"͟i ͢nev̛er ̷ẁa̶Ǹte̢d͘ to̢ h͡u͏rt̢ a̛nyone…”
“I know, sweetheart.” He stood just in front of her, the little girl now back to her dormant form. He felt awful for her. To be thrust into this, and then abandoned to handle it alone...the poor thing… “I’m so sorry….”
Her new clothes were torn, leaving her almost completely exposed. The room was a mess, and the only sound now was her sobbing. Alistair opened his mouth to speak again, when Anastasia suddenly threw her arms around his waist, burying her face into his torso as she continued to cry. He was hesitant to touch her, but….he had to provide some sort of comfort, didn’t he?
“...I...I’m going to hold you....is that alright…?”
She nodded. “P...P-Please…”
That was all he needed. He tenderly held her to him in an embrace, one hand cradling the back of her head. He could feel her small hands gripping at his clothes like a frightened child as she shook with tremors, tears soaking the front of his shirt. Seeing someone like this broke his heart.
Father Brennan was still on the ground, cradling his broken arm to his chest. What horrors had he just witnessed? What beast had been summoned before them?
“Lord...have mercy on us all.”
