Page 83 of Citrine

I need to start facing things instead of yammering away about whatever flits through my mind. As if gills and tentacles aren't enough, I have fins. One on each side, resembling the green shark fin Wroahk has on his blue arms. Or I'm back to hallucination.

No such luck. Wroahk sees the changes, too.

Well, if he is real.

I'm being ridiculous. He's more real than any person I have ever met. So sure of himself, it makes me jealous.

I could tell he was surprised to see my new changes, but he just accepted them and moved on. I could learn something from him. Well, lots of things, while teaching him some as well.

I clamp down on my mind trying to wiggle out of this by thinking about the ways he is wrong.

Of course he isn't concerned, though, it isn't his body constantly changing, it's mine. Morphing every single day into some mold for him…

Stop it, I chide myself.Face it.

I ran away because I don't want to keep changing to be more like him. Will I eventually lose my sense of empathy completely? Be the same killer he is if I stay near him?

I'm feeling unsteady now, dizzy. It might be best for me to get out of this tree, but then the image of Wroahk using his tentacles for everything comes to my mind. My own are small, so I don't know if they'll work, but I decide to try.

Just thinking about it, my tentacles stretch up and cling fast to a branch, holding me securely, though the pressure on my skull is so weird. Who thinks they'll ever say something likemy tentacles?

My thoughts are still running unchecked, and it disgusts me. I can't just keep longing for things I don't have. So, I'm turning into a freaking kraken or some shit. I need to just deal with it.

I make myself focus on the reality of it, on the plus side.

Alright, well, Wroahk is probably the strongest, most self-assured person I have ever met. He doesn't have that self-loathing I've developed a fine-tuned radar for, the sense that makes me run away from a person with it as fast as possible.

I know not all the people like that are abusers, but I won't take the risk. He doesn't have that issue. In fact, he is becomingnoticeably softer with me, though it hasn't diminished his strength.

I can be more like Wroahk, just with less cultural violence. I glance at the yellow tentacles holding me in place, my long hair tangled up in them. They are strange, yes, but also beautiful, and obviously useful.

Then there are my gills, which are currently burning, urging me back into the water. Alright, so there is a downside, but how many people have dreamed of having them? I mean, I never did, but still.

I feel acceptance building, and it feels… good, so I see if I can transfer that feeling over to my childhood.

That's much harder, and my mind swirls in circles of memory, the same ones that I've never been able to make sense logically.

It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that people like my stepfather can't be understood. That its a good thing I can't understand him, since it means I'm not an abuser.

My mind wants to make sense of it, figure out a way to avoid it.

The last thought makes my heart skip a beat. He can't reach me here. I don't need to try to figure him out, or guess what he might be doing, or be constantly scanning my surroundings and every social event to look for more like him.

Not only do they obviously not exist here, but I am certain that Wroahk would break them in two the moment I showed any fear.

The realization makes me want to go back to him, to feel his tentacles holding me close.

I try to climb down from the tree, but my tentacles feel weak, brittle almost.

Shit. I only meant to have a moment to myself, not turn myself into smoked calamari.

My skin feels like paper. It hurts and cracks every time it touches the bark, but I can't stop climbing down in the middle unless I want to be easy pickings. The feeling of thirst at the back of my throat has become more intense than ever.

I'm drying out, just like he told me I would, and it's not that I didn't believe him. I just didn't really know what that meant.

Of all curses throughout history and all the torments, why did I have to turn into a fish?

Climbing back down is a struggle. I hear rustling and look over to see the giant, tentacled man staring back at me. He watches me with even more intensity than usual, like he's waiting for something.

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