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__Curly Hair Mute__

I suppose it's time to get this off my chest. It's been eating me up inside for so long, but the wounds still feel fresh to me... but...I still want to try to talk.

For obvious reasons, I chose not to reveal my real name. Call me "Jen". I lived a simple and life in California a while ago. I didn't care for extravagance, so I enjoyed the basics; studio apartment, odd jobs, basic cable, being around friends, it worked for me. I didn't ask for much, really. I was a simple girl.

I seemed to bond well with guys, ever since I was a kid, whether it was my knuckle headed behavior or my sailor mouth, once they got the initial "she seems cute" moment out of the way, they saw me as one of the guys. I had a simple yet fun circle; Paul, Zach, Mikey and Kyle. Whenever I was with them, even throughout our class clown days in High School, we'd be drinking, laughing, playing video games or a round of Texas Hold 'Em. Joking aside, they were a bunch of caring guys, and I felt like I adopted a bunch of big brothers. They protected me and I of course had their backs. To me, my life was perfect. I couldn't have been happier.

It was during one of our weekends, full of boozing, gaming and playful insults, did things...change. You see, Zach brought over a buddy of his who was visiting, "Dan". Dan was a...interesting character. He was a very obnoxious guy, stubborn, and seemed to be very obsessed with his appearance in every mirror he passed, always needing to adjust his shirt collar and slick his hair. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I handed him a drink and welcomed him to our get together. Almost immediately, he made inappropriate gestures toward me, at first sexist, demanding to know how a "chick" was suppose to be apart of "guy's night", then cracking lewd jokes mostly pertaining to me and him. I was of course livid with this guy, my friends saw it too and told him to essentially tone his shit down. That revved him up more, saying that my "chick feelings are sucking this party dry" and that he suggested other things that could be done with said ability. Zach kept telling him to shut up and apologized to me, saying that's just how Dan jokes.

I'm a calm person. Really. You'll never know if I'm angry, I never wear it on my face. The five of us continued drinking and going about our night, disregarding the remarks made by Dan whenever he lost to a Death Match against me, and getting angrier when losing to me at Poker. All the while he seemed to be worse, the drunker he got, trying to put his arm around me and kiss me, and was shoved to the other side of the living room by all of us and told to back the fuck off.

One by one, the consciousness of the group diminished, until it was only me, Dan, and Zach. Zach could never hold his alcohol, so when he got up to the bathroom, I knew he'd be passed out after waiting ten minutes. Dan made his move first. Sitting right next to me on the couch, he roughly kissed me, the stench of his after shave and alcohol was rancid, near burning my unblinking eyes. He slipped his hand under my shirt. My eyes glazed over.

"You did want this didn't you, you sl--" he started, just before he felt it. My nails, that is. They were sinking into the flesh of his back and gripping the base of his spine. With a quick twist of flesh and a simple snap, his ability to speak or move was rendered. He could still feel, though, as I slowly pulled my new lengthy, sharp claws from his body. The movement was so fast, his wound had yet begun to bleed out, as I ran my nails through the underside of his jaw and threw him over the couch to the kitchen area. I couldn't control myself anymore. The smell...that wicked smell...was intoxicating. I was hungry.

I didn't hear Paul stir, as I was too busy hunched over, wrenching off pieces of my prize, devouring the sight as though I hadn't eaten in days. I had been rationing my food sources, so to have a full meal was too good to turn down. It must've been ten minutes or so until I looked back up. I saw the sobering shock splayed across Paul's face, he looked so pale. His eyes were fixated on me. I calmed down, my claws shrinking back into the cuticles, and despite being covered in gore, I stepped over the remains, a pleading look in my eyes. I begged him not to be afraid, I'm not always like this, that I'm still a good friend and caring person under this. I really am.

He didn't hear me.

He ran into the kitchen and in a tone I've only heard him used when we'd all watch horror movies, he told me to stay back. His voice seemed to break through the drunken barrier that Mikey and Kyle had, as they started groaning out of their stupor. The sight of the mess was too much for Paul, as I saw him take another glance at the near skeletal remnants, ready to heave. To show I meant well with the rest of them, I asked for a trash bag to clean up the mess, cautiously approaching him with my hand out, to give us some distance. Paul screamed again, but began sobbing, through the hiccuped crying he jerked the knife in my direction and told me to stay back. Mikey and Kyle came to, and saw Paul with the knife pointed at me, all the while I was drenched in blood and the stench of decay. Their instincts must've said go after Paul, but I just shouted at everyone to stop. Halfway in their advance towards him, they froze at the sight behind the couch, stupefied fear overran their system. I was near tears explaining myself again. I just wanted them to understand I'm not always this way. What they spent time with was the real me. That's how I am...around good people. The ones with wickedness in them...they give something off. Just their name alone can leave a scent. Each smell had its own discrinction; murder, theft, and most recently, rape. Regardless of what it is, my stomach drains to a gluttoral strain. I just feel so...hungry.

I fell on my knees, finally breaking down. Heaving out heavy sobs, I cried out to be forgiven, that I may be different, but I just wanted some peace too. I found that with them, and the realization of losing them was too much, as I hung my head and wept to be understood.

When I lifted my head again, I saw the three of them huddled together, fumbling for their phones to call 911. I can see by the panicked looks in their eyes that I was no longer a friend, a little sister, but a monster. No one wanted to understand. Trembling, I slowly stood back up, my eyes bloodshot from the still flowing tears. I lowered my head. I didn't dare look at the sight of betrayal anymore. In a matter of minutes, my friends...my only family...became my enemies.

I heard a clicking sound from behind me. Zach, from out of the bathroom, lurched out with a gun in his hand, cocked and ready. He fired off into my head and I fell forward. A few moments went by and once again I slowly got up. I could feel something wet and brittle fall from the back of my head, and when I tried to look up, my eyes saw Zach running to them, and at the same time the red mess at my feet.

I heard his laughter as he started shouting triuphantly about his "kill"

I had no choice.

My heart sank... as I picked up the scent ...and I fazed out the screaming and rendering of flesh and bone.

I'm still healing from this. Literally. Slowly but surely all will be normal again. I've eaten enough to hold me over a while... But I will never again make the mistake of confiding in friends. Or making them.

CadaverousContamination

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