Chapter 10
Ialmost don’t go to school.
The smart thing would be to stay home, lock myself in my room, and wait for the inevitable. But as I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, at the creature with pointed ears and sharp teeth and eyes that gleam too bright, I realize I’m not ready to give up yet.
Not without one last beautiful performance.
I pile on makeup with a heavy hand, trying to disguise the changes. Foundation to cover the fine fur spreading across my cheeks. Concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Lipstick to disguise how sharp my teeth have become.
It’s not perfect, but in the dim morning light, I almost look human again.
Almost.
The scratching has stopped completely. The house is silent in a way that feels heavy and expectant, like it’s holding its breath. Even the mouse doll seems to be waiting. It’s sitting there, watching me from its perch on my dresser with those black button eyes.
I know what it’s waiting for. What they’re all waiting for.
But I’m not ready. Not yet.
School feels different as soon as I walk through the doors. The hallways seem narrower, the lighting too harsh. Every sound is amplified - lockers slamming, shoes squeaking on linoleum, the constant buzz of teenage conversation.
And the smells. God, the smells are overwhelming. Cheap perfume, hair spray, and the lingering scent of cafeteria food. But underneath it all, something else. Something warm, alive and vulnerable.
Fear.
They can sense that something’s wrong with me, even if they can’t pinpoint what. I catch them staring when they think I’m not looking, whispering in corners, giving me a wider berth than usual.
Good. Let them be afraid.
First period passes in a blur. I can barely focus on what Mrs. Patterson is saying about World War II because I’m too distracted by the sound of Emma’s breathing three seats away. Fast little puffs that make something deep in my chest rumble with satisfaction.
She’s scared of me. They all are.
By lunch, the makeup is starting to wear off. I can see people doing double-takes when they look at me, their expressions shifting from confusion to something that looks almost like horror.
I’m sitting at my usual table, picking at a sandwich I have no intention of eating, when Kass approaches. Stupid Kass with her perfect skin, her perfect life, and her complete inability to read a room.
“Briar?” Her voice is tentative, careful. “Are you...okay? You look really…”
“Really what?” I look up at her, and she takes an involuntary step backward. Good.
“I just... your face looks different. And your hair...” She trails off, staring at my ears with wide, frightened eyes.
My ears. Shit. My curls must have flattened, revealing how pointed they’ve become, how much larger and more prominent.
“My hair looks fine,” I snap, but even as I say it, I can feel how wrong the words sound. My voice is different too; sharper, with an odd clicking quality that makes several people at nearby tables look over.
“Maybe you should go to the nurse,” Kass suggests, and there’s genuine concern in her voice. Genuine care for someone who’s been nothing but cruel to her.
It makes me want to rip her throat out.
“Maybe,” I say, standing slowly, “you should mind your own fucking business.”
The cafeteria has gone quiet. Everyone is staring now, phones probably already recording. But I don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see what their perfect Briar Hartley really is underneath all the makeup and designer clothes.
“I was just trying to help,” Kass whispers, tears starting to form in her eyes.
Help. Like I need help from someone so pathetically weak. Like I need anything from any of these soft, useless humans who’ve never had to fight for anything in their comfortable little lives.
The rage builds in my chest, hot and hungry and demanding release.
“Help?” I laugh, and the sound that comes out is nothing human. It’s high-pitched and scratchy, and makes everyone within earshot flinch. “You think I need help from you? You think you’re better than me?”
I take a step closer, and now I can really smell her. The flowery perfume, the cherry lip gloss, but underneath it all something warm and alive and absolutely terrified.
She smells like prey.
“You want to know what I think?” I lean in close, close enough that she can see the sharp points of my teeth, the way my eyes have gone completely black. “I think you’re nothing. I think you’re weak, pathetic and forgettable, and the only reason anyone even knows your name is because I let them.”
Tears are streaming down her face now, and the sight of them sends a thrill of pure satisfaction through my veins. This is what I was made for. This is what I’m good at.
Breaking things. Hurting them. Making them cry.
“I think,” I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carries to every corner of the silent cafeteria, “that you should get down on your knees and thank me for even acknowledging your existence.”
Something shifts in Kass’s expression. The fear is still there, but now there’s something else. Something that looks almost like pity.
“Briar,” she says softly, “what happened to you?”
The question hits like a physical blow.
What happened to me? What fucking happened to me?
I became what I was always meant to be. I stopped pretending to be something soft, sweet and human. I embraced the monster that was always lurking underneath the perfect exterior.
But looking at Kass’s tear-streaked face, at the genuine concern in her eyes despite everything I’ve done to her, something cracks inside me.
For just a moment, I see myself through her eyes. A girl with fur sprouting from her cheeks and ears that look more animal than human. A girl whose teeth are so sharp they could tear flesh, whose eyes have gone completely black with rage.
A monster.
The moment of clarity lasts exactly three seconds. Then the rage comes back twice as strong, and all I can think about is making her hurt. Making them all hurt.
“What happened to me?” I repeat, my voice rising to a shriek. “Nothing happened to me. I just stopped pretending to be something I’m not.”
I lunge at her, my hands curled into claws, and she screams. The sound is high and pure, and absolutely delicious.
But before I can reach her, strong arms wrap around me, pulling me back. Mr. Henderson, the gym teacher, has appeared out of nowhere to restrain me.
“That’s enough.” He shouts, but I’m beyond hearing. I’m pure instinct now, pure predator, and all I want is to get free so I can finish what I started.
I twist in his grip, snapping at his hands with my sharp teeth. He swears and loosens his hold just enough for me to break free.
The cafeteria erupts in screams and chaos as students scramble to get away from me. Tables overturn, trays clatter to the floor, and somewhere in the distance I can hear someone calling for security.
But all I can focus on is Kass, backed against the wall with nowhere to run. Her eyes are wide with terror, and I can hear her heartbeat hammering like a rabbit’s.
Perfect.
I advance on her slowly, savoring the moment. This is what I was born for. This is what the doll has been preparing me for all along.
“Please,” she whispers. “Briar, please.”
The sound of her begging sends electricity through my veins. I raise my hand, claws extended, ready to show everyone what happens when you pity Briar Hartley.
But then I catch sight of myself in the cafeteria’s windows, and the reflection stops me cold.
The thing looking back at me isn’t human anymore. It’s covered in coarse gray-brown fur, with an elongated snout full of needle-sharp teeth. Its ears are huge and pointed, twitching with every sound. Its eyes are completely black, reflecting light like a nocturnal predator.
It looks exactly like the mouse doll.
The realization hits like ice water; this is it. This is the moment Briar Hartley dies, and the mouse takes over completely.
And I’m doing it in front of the entire school, being recorded on dozens of phones that will upload the footage before I can even try to stop it.
The rage drains out of me all at once, leaving nothing but cold, stark terror.
“No,” I whisper, backing away from Kass. “No, no, no.”
But it’s too late. I can feel the final changes starting, my bones shifting and cracking as my body prepares for the last transformation. My spine is curving, forcing me to hunch over. My hands are becoming more claw-like by the second.
The scratching sound returns, louder than ever, but now I know it’s not coming from the walls. It’s coming from inside me, from the creature that’s been clawing its way to the surface.
Security guards burst through the cafeteria doors, but they stop short when they see me. Even trained adults don’t know how to process what they’re looking at.
“Stay back.” one of them shouts into his radio. “We need... I don’t know what we need. Just get everyone out of here.”
Students are streaming toward the exits now, their screams echoing off the walls. But some of them are still filming, still recording every second of my transformation for the world to see.
Let them. Let everyone see what happens when you push perfection too far.
I straighten up as much as my changing spine allows, and smile at the cameras. My teeth are so sharp now that the smile draws blood from my own lips.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I call out to the fleeing crowd, my voice a harsh rasp that barely sounds human anymore. “You wanted to see the real Briar Hartley? Well, here she is.”
I spread my arms wide, showing off the fur, the claws, the grotesque hybrid form I’ve become. Several people scream, and the sound fills me with such savage satisfaction.
“I am exactly what I was always meant to be.” I shriek. “I am perfect.”
But even as I say it, I can feel my humanity slipping away completely. The words are becoming harder to form as my mouth changes shape. My thoughts are simplifying, becoming more basic, more animal.
Hunt. Kill. Survive.
The security guards are trying to approach me, circling from both my left and right but my new body is built for speed and stealth. I dart between the overturned tables, using my small size and enhanced reflexes to stay ahead of them.
But I’m not running toward the open doors. I’m running toward the kitchen, toward the service corridors that lead back to the parking lot.
The mouse knows where it needs to go. I know where I need to go, where I have to return to.
But first, there’s something I need to do. A final performance that only my family will witness.
It’s time to show Mom and Dad what their perfect princess has become.
Time to finish what the dollmaker started all those years ago.