Page 20 of Rescued By the Beast
There is a strange blockage, an intense pressure in my chest.
My heart races, beating irregularly, and my black fur bristles, causing my feline body to arch involuntarily.
What's happening?
A desperate meow escapes my throat, more by instinct than by choice.
I try again, concentrating hard, searching for the point where my essence accumulates, the centre of strength where the power of transformation is concentrated. That is where I normally feel the movement, the sliding of change.
Again, nothing happens.
It's as if I'm locked out, trying to break through, but the block persists, rigid and relentless. I can only peek through the keyhole, feeling my power on the other side, just a tiny beam passing through the hole. It's so small that I can hardly feel it, but it's enough to know that it still exists within me. I just can't access it.
I must be cursed!
The words explode in my mind, hot and furious. My paws dig into the floor, and my claws slide across the floorboards, scratching the surface as reality hits me hard.
No.
No.
No.
I must just be too exhausted, too weak to control my transformation back. I need to sleep. That's it... I just need to rest, recharge my batteries, and everything will return to normal.
The acrid smell of vomit permeates the small flat, a poignant reminder of the mess sprawled across the kitchen floor. There's nothing I can do in this form. At least the window is partially open, allowing fresh air to enter and carry away some of the unpleasant odour.
Gathering what little strength I have left, I stagger back to the kitchen and jump onto the sink. With effort, I turn the tap with my paws, and when the water starts to run, I wash them. Then I tilt my snout and swallow hastily, letting the liquid clean my throat and relieve the bitter taste on my tongue. I drink until I can't take it anymore, trying to fool my empty stomach for a few more hours.
I turn off the tap and jump back onto the floor, walking to the mattress, letting my exhaustion guide me. I curl up between the sheet and the pillow, adjusting my small body to the space.
As soon as I close my eyes, exhaustion envelops me completely, plunging me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A single thought lingers, faintly, before everything disappears:
Tomorrow, everything will be alright.
***
I wake up with a start to the sharp, insistent sound of knocking on the door. My heart is already racing before I even hear the landlord's deep, impatient voice:
"I know you're in there, Sandra. The deadline to settle your debt has passed."
My mouth opens automatically to respond, but the sound that comes out is a high-pitched, desperate meow. My body freezes. Reality hits me like an icy blow, and the memory of the previous night comes back with full force. I'm still trapped.
I'm just a cat.
Anxiety rises like a tidal wave, flooding every part of me. I try to breathe, but my lungs burn as I hyperventilate. My fur is bristling, my claws pierce the sheet, and fear flows like an uncontrollable river through my system.
"Shift," I command myself, trying to channel what I feel from my essence. I close my eyes and concentrate, but all I find is that same lock, allowing only a shred of power to pass through. Frustrated, I spin around in my own body, my mind in chaos as despair takes over.
"Consider yourself officially notified. You have thirty days to vacate the property." The landlord's muffled voice comes through the door, cold and impersonal, as he slides the eviction notice under it.
My head spins, searching for a solution.
Luther... He can help me. He's seen me in my feline form, he knows what I am. When he sees that I can't return to my form, he'll connect the dots and go after that witch to break the curse.
If I can make a call, even without saying anything, maybe he'll realise something's wrong and come to see me before we agreed.
