Chapter 32 - The Wreckage [https://cdn.midjourney.com/57065a40-8092-407d-af5f-3b86d65508bc/0_2.png]

Kennedy woke up looking into the glaring light of the refrigerator. Disoriented, she tried to move and slipped on the wet floor. Spilled food coated the ground, dotted with shredded bits of milk carton and broken glass. One of the refrigerator racks had been pulled completely free. Sandy was going to kill her. When Kennedy tried to reach forward, her claws slid on the tile, leaving furrows in the soft linoleum, and she yowled. She had to be dreaming. Head swiveling, she took in the disaster.

The kitchen was completely trashed. Their small table had a broken leg and was tipping oddly. There was a long line of claw marks sliced through the wallboard by the dishwasher. Their landlord was going to kill them. Was she lying in milk?

She was lying in milk. When she sniffed the floor, her belly complained. She was stuffed full. Had she done this in her sleep? There were scratches along the cabinets, too. What on earth was she going to do?

Her panic rose as she got up, sticky and disgusting, covered in milk and juice. Cereal coated her hip. A torn, open cornflake box lay a foot away from her. How was she going to clean this up before Sandy and her asshole boyfriend got home on Sunday? Completely screwed, she reached for any tingling sensation along her sides. Nothing. Shit. Kennedy moved forward, sliding once, as she nosed the door to the fridge shut.

What if someone saw her like this and shot her? She fought down panic. Stumbling toward the living room, she discovered the half-eaten couch. Had she done this? The cushions were demolished and the padding from the back had been ripped free and tossed about.

The path she had taken was easy to trace. With a roar of misery, she lowered her head and slumped down onto the carpet. She feared going into Sandy’s art studio. If she had kept reading Terry’s texts, would he have warned her about this? Looking at her wide useless paws, she doubted texting him now was an option. How could she use a phone right now? With her luck, she had eaten her phone. It might ring inside of her at any moment.

Feeling sorry for herself, Kennedy comforted herself by remembering how warm Terry’s body had been as she curled up forlornly and stared at the ruined couch. Sandy loved that couch. She’d saved up six months for it. Under the wave of despair, she felt a faint tingle along her side. When she reached for it, the sensation retreated. She took a breath, deep and slow.

Bears could do yoga breathing, right? Why not? This year had shown her weirder things. Breathe in for an eight count. Breathe out for ten. She thought about how warm the natural pools had felt, and how pleasant Terry’s calloused hands had been. When she felt the tingle this time, she just let it happen.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Resting her mind on the memory of him kissing her, she focused on how it felt to lie on his powerful body, content and happy. Easing into the change, felt like sinking into water. Naked, belly distended, and overfull, she returned to her human form. Sprawled on the floor, she promptly vomited. Sandy would not let her stay, not after this.

*

Hours later…

Kennedy had cleaned up what she could. Wearing work clothes and some sneakers, she’d scooped, scraped and gathered the destroyed contents of the fridge into trash bags. By the time she had the floor cleared, all the cleaning supplies were gone, and the house was empty of both paper towels and napkins. She’d stopped reading the texts from her boss, after the one that told her she didn’t need to come in again, ever.

The broken glass in the kitchen had been insidious and she’d had to stop three times to dig tiny slivers out of her fingers. She’d scrubbed the kitchen floor on her hands and knees and it remained sticky. Her pitiful attempts at pushing the stuffing back into the couch had only made it look worse. Maybe she could convince Sandy that criminals had done this. “Robbers!”

Kennedy spun toward the bookshelf. Sandy had said her boyfriend had set up one of those motion-sensitive baby cam bears. Because she’d been scrolling through her phone, she’d only half listened when she’d talked about it. They were poor, right? What did they have to steal that would be worth jail time? Mismatched coffee cups from Goodwill? Sandy had said, “Don’t walk around the house naked while we are gone, if you don’t want yourself recorded bare ass.”

Focused on the living room bookshelf, Kennedy saw the little blinking light. Hands stinking of bleach, she gripped the bear with shiny black eyes and spun him over. “Mother fucker.” He really was a camera. Using a pair of fingernail clippers, Kennedy pried the casing open and worked the memory card out of the back of the stuffed animal. With trembling fingers, she put the memory card into the reader at the computer and downloaded all the pictures that had been captured.

They must have flipped it on when they left for the weekend. There was a shot of her in a t-shirt and underwear with tangled crazy hair. That must have been before she crashed. When she saw the first image of her as a bear, she had to sit down.

Knees wobbly, she dropped into the wooden desk chair. Even in bear shape, she recognized herself. The way she destroyed the couch looked downright joyful. Why eat a couch? So, she wasn’t having hallucinations. Sometimes, she turned into a bear.

When she burped, she tasted an unpleasant mix of old fried chicken, milk, and couch. Heart sinking, she watched the images four times before she was done looking at the destruction she had caused. Shoving the memory card into her pocket, she rotated in her chair and looked out at the room.

Luckily, she hadn’t destroyed Sandy’s studio. That was one good thing. Left with few choices, she pulled out her phone. There isn’t any good way to start a conversation with someone you haven’t had contact with in six years.

Kennedy punched in her Nan’s number. “Nana?”

“Kennedy, is that you?” Relief washed through her at the sound of her grandmother’s surprised, cheerful voice.

“Yes, Mam. I moved out. I thought it might be okay to call.”

“Oh honey, it’s so good to hear from you. I’ve missed you so much.”

Kennedy’s heart clenched. “I’ve missed you too.” It felt good to be wanted.

“Can I come see you?”