Chapter 14 Isla's Transformation
POV: Isla Reid
Location: Her Flat, Southwark
Time: One Month After Attack, Full Moon Night
I know it's coming. I've felt it building all day. This restless energy under my skin, this pressure in my bones that's been getting worse with every hour. The moon's rising and my body knows it.
I called in sick to work again. That's the fifth time this month. Sarah left three voicemails asking if I'm okay, if I need anything, if I'm coming back soon. I can't answer her. What would I even say? Sorry, I got bitten by a werewolf and now I'm a monster who can't control her transformations?
The hospital's going to fire me soon. I know they are. You can't miss this much work without consequences. But I can't go back. Can't risk being at the hospital during a full moon. Can't risk hurting someone.
I've spent the day preparing my flat as best I can. Moved all the furniture against the walls. Put away anything breakable. Locked the windows. Double-checked the door locks. I don't know if any of this will help, but I have to try something.
The sun's setting now. I can feel it even though I'm not near a window. It's like my body's attuned to the moon's position, counting down the minutes until I lose control.
I'm terrified. The first transformation three weeks ago was voluntary. Painful and horrible, but I chose when it happened. I had some control. Tonight I won't have any choice. The moon's going to force the change whether I want it or not.
I strip off my clothes and put on an old t-shirt and shorts that I don't care about destroying. Last time, my clothes shredded when I transformed. I can't afford to keep replacing everything I own.
The pressure's getting worse. It feels like something's trying to claw its way out from inside my chest. My heart's racing. My breathing's too fast. I'm starting to panic and I know that's going to make this worse, but I can't stop it.
I check my phone one more time. Eight-thirty PM. Moonrise is at eight-forty-five. I have fifteen minutes.
I turn off all the lights in my flat. Maybe if I can't see what's happening, it won't be as bad. Maybe if I'm in the dark, I won't have to watch my body tear itself apart.
Ten minutes. The pressure's unbearable now. I'm pacing back and forth across my living room, trying to walk off the energy, but it's not helping. Nothing's helping.
Five minutes. My skin feels too tight. Like it doesn't fit anymore. Like I need to shed it and grow something new.
Two minutes. I drop to my knees. The pain's starting. Not the transformation yet, just the warning. The preview of what's coming.
Then the moon rises.
The transformation hits me like a freight train. One second I'm kneeling on my living room floor, the next second my bones are breaking. Not breaking like a fracture. Breaking like they're being deliberately shattered into pieces so they can reform into something else.
I scream. Can't help it. The sound that comes out isn't entirely human. It's got this animal quality to it, this howl underneath the scream.
My spine's arching, vertebrae popping one by one like someone's walking up my back and stepping on each bone. My hands are cramping, fingers curling, nails thickening and darkening into claws. I watch in horror as fur starts sprouting from my skin. Gray and white, spreading up my arms.
My jaw dislocates. I feel it unhinge with this wet popping sound that makes me want to vomit. My teeth are falling out, clattering onto the hardwood floor. New teeth grow in to replace them. Longer. Sharper. Wrong.
The worst part is my legs. They're reforming, bones breaking and rearranging, muscles tearing and rebuilding. My knees bend backward. My feet elongate. I'm going to be digitigrade, walking on my toes like an animal.
I'm screaming the entire time. Screaming until my throat's raw. Until the sounds I'm making aren't human anymore. Just howls of agony.
But something's wrong. The transformation's not completing. I'm stuck. Stuck between human and wolf. My body's fighting itself, half-changed, rejecting what it's becoming while also being forced into it by the moon.
This is the second mortality crisis. That's what Marcus called it when I tracked him down and demanded answers about what happens to turned wolves. Forty percent die during first transformation. The survivors face a second crisis during their first full moon when the body either accepts the wolf permanently or rejects it completely.
I'm rejecting it. My human body's trying to hold on. Trying to stay human. But the moon's forcing the change anyway.
I'm stuck in this horrible middle state. Human torso with wolf legs. Human face with wolf jaw. Human hands with wolf claws. Nothing fits together. Nothing works properly.
The pain's beyond anything I've ever experienced. Beyond anything I thought was possible. Every nerve ending is on fire. Every bone feels like it's splintering. Every muscle is tearing itself apart.
I try to stand up but I can't coordinate the movement. My wolf legs don't respond the way my human brain expects. I fall forward, catching myself on hands that are half-claws. The impact sends shockwaves of pain through my restructuring bones.
I'm going to die like this. Stuck between forms, in agony, unable to complete the transformation or reverse it. This is how I die. A medical professional who knows exactly what's happening to her body but can't do anything to stop it.
Time stops meaning anything. I don't know if I've been like this for minutes or hours. The pain's constant, overwhelming everything else. I can't think. Can't reason. Can only exist in this moment of endless suffering.
Somewhere distantly, I hear pounding on my door. Voices shouting. My neighbors. They must hear me screaming. But the Veil's working, keeping them from understanding what's really happening. They'll forget about this. The magic will make them forget.
The pounding gets louder. Someone's trying to break down my door. I need to tell them to stop, to go away, to leave me alone. But I can't form words. My mouth doesn't work properly. My throat can only produce howls.
Then something shifts. My body makes a decision. It's choosing. Accepting or rejecting.
Accepting.
The rest of the transformation completes in a rush. My torso reforms, ribs cracking and rearranging. Fur spreads across my entire body. My face finishes changing, nose and mouth elongating into a muzzle. My brain shifts, consciousness altering.
I'm wolf. Full wolf. The pain doesn't stop but it changes. Becomes manageable. Background noise instead of the only thing that exists.
I stand on four legs. This body works now. Everything's coordinated. I'm not stuck anymore.
But I'm also not me. The human part of my mind is still here, still aware, but it's smaller. Quieter. The wolf is in control.
The wolf is angry. The wolf is in pain. The wolf wants out of this small space that smells like fear and blood.
I throw myself at my living room window. The glass shatters. I barely feel the cuts. I'm trying to get out, trying to get to open space, but I'm three stories up and there's nowhere to go.
I spin around and slam into my bookshelf. It crashes down. Books scatter everywhere. I'm destroying my flat and I can't stop. The wolf doesn't care about possessions. The wolf just wants out.
My couch gets shredded. My coffee table gets knocked over. My TV crashes to the floor. Everything I own is being destroyed and I'm the one doing it.
The pounding on my door has stopped. My neighbors gave up or the Veil convinced them everything's fine. Either way, I'm alone with this destructive force I can't control.
Hours pass. I don't know how many. I just rage around my flat, destroying things, howling my pain and frustration at the walls that trap me.
Then, finally, dawn comes. I feel the moon setting the same way I felt it rising. The pull releases. The compulsion ends.
The transformation reverses. Just as painful going back as it was changing in the first place. Bones breaking, reforming, returning to human shape. Fur falling out. Claws shrinking. Teeth changing.
I'm human again. Lying naked on my destroyed living room floor, covered in cuts and bruises and my own blood.
Every part of my body hurts. I'm too exhausted to move. Too broken to care that I'm lying in broken glass and scattered books and the ruins of my life.
I did this. I destroyed my own flat. Everything I worked for, everything I owned, ruined in one night.
The sun's rising. Light streams through my broken window. I need to assess the damage. Need to figure out if this is salvageable.
I force myself to sit up. The movement sends waves of pain through my body. I'm covered in cuts from the broken glass. Some of them are deep. I should treat them but I can't bring myself to care.
My living room looks like a tornado hit it. Furniture overturned, books scattered, TV smashed, window broken. The couch is shredded, stuffing pulled out like something tore it apart with claws. Which I did. I tore it apart.
There's blood on the walls. Mine. From where I must have crashed into things while transformed.
My bedroom's not much better. The door's hanging off its hinges. My bed's destroyed. My clothes are scattered everywhere, shredded.
The bathroom's the only room that's mostly intact. I stagger in there and look at myself in the mirror. I'm a horror. Covered in blood and cuts and bruises. My hair's matted. My eyes are wild. I look like I survived a war.
There's pounding on my door again. Different from last night. More official.
"Ms. Reid? This is your landlord. Open the door please."
Oh god. My landlord. He must have gotten calls from the neighbors about the noise. About the destruction.
I throw on a robe that's somehow still intact and limp to the door. When I open it, my landlord's face goes from annoyed to shocked.
"What happened to you? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just had a bad night."
"A bad night?" My landlord pushes past me to look at my flat. His expression changes from shock to anger. "Ms. Reid, you've destroyed this flat. Absolutely destroyed it. What were you thinking?"
"I can pay for damages. I'll fix everything."
"Fix it? The window's shattered. The walls are damaged. Your furniture's in pieces. This is thousands of pounds in damage." My landlord's backing toward the door. "I'm terminating your lease. You need to be out by the end of the week."
"Please. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"You're right it won't happen again, because you're not staying here." My landlord's at the door. "End of the week, Ms. Reid. Then I'm changing the locks."
He leaves. I stand in my destroyed flat, trying to process what just happened.
I'm being evicted. I have one week to find a new place to live. With no savings because all my money goes to Mum's care home. With no job because I've missed too much work. With no references because I can't explain why I'm being evicted without admitting I'm a werewolf.
My phone rings. It's the hospital. I stare at it, knowing what this call is going to be.
I answer. "Hello?"
"Isla, this is Margaret from HR." Her voice is professional, distant. "We need to talk about your attendance. You've called in sick fourteen times in the past month. That's beyond our acceptable limits."
"I know. I'm sorry. I've been dealing with a medical condition."
"Do you have documentation from a doctor?"
How do I get a doctor's note for lycanthropy? "No. It's complicated."
"Then I'm afraid we have no choice. We're terminating your employment effective immediately. You can come collect your things from your locker, but you're no longer authorized to work here."
"Please. I need this job. I have responsibilities. My mother's in a care home and I'm the only one paying for it."
"I'm sorry, Isla. But we can't make exceptions. You've missed too much work without proper documentation." Margaret sounds genuinely regretful. "I'll process your final paycheck. It should arrive within two weeks."
She hangs up. I stand there holding my phone, staring at my destroyed flat.
One month. That's how long it took to lose everything. One month since Marcus bit me in that council estate. One month since my life ended.
I don't have a job. I don't have a home. I don't have savings. I don't have references. I don't have friends who know what I am. I don't have anyone who can help me navigate this nightmare.
I'm a monster who destroys everything she touches. I'm a werewolf who can't control her transformations. I'm packless, which apparently means I'm nothing in the supernatural world.
Mum's care home costs eight thousand pounds a month. I have maybe three thousand in my account. I can pay for this month and that's it. After that, I don't know what happens. They'll move her to a state facility. Somewhere terrible where she won't get proper care. Where she'll be alone and confused and I won't be able to help her.
Everything I built over years of hard work is gone. My nursing career. My flat. My future. All of it destroyed by a single bite from a werewolf who was following orders from someone I've never met.
I slide down the wall and sit on my destroyed living room floor. The cuts on my body are still bleeding but I don't care. What's a little more blood when my entire life is bleeding out?
I don't know how to survive as a monster. Don't know how to function in a world where I transform into a wolf once a month and destroy everything around me. Don't know how to pay for Mum's care when I can't hold down a job.
Marcus said I was on my own. That no pack would take me because I'm turned, not born. That I have to figure this out myself or die trying.
Right now, dying seems easier than trying.