Chapter 11 Escape to Nowhere
In a heavy stupor of melancholy and absolute depression, I began packing with constant interruptions to tend to baby Jordan.
Every time I folded another piece of clothing or loaded another bag into the SUV, the reality of what I’d lost hit me like a fresh punch to the gut.
When the vehicle was finally packed, I was a grubby, milk-stained mess—hair wild, eyes swollen from crying, shirt soaked again from yet another let-down.
But I didn’t want to leave. It was too hard to turn my back on even the faintest chance that the Amulet of Morphos might still be retrievable from under that damn floor.
So I decided to clean instead. I washed the clothes I’d been wearing right there in the shower with me, since everything else was already packed.
The hot water felt both soothing and mocking as it cascaded over my changed body—rinsing away dried milk from the heavy undersides of my breasts while making my raw nipples sting.
I even conditioned my long hair, working the product through the strands with shaking fingers.
Afterward, I sat naked on the wide wooden porch, brushing out the wet curls in the cool morning mountain breeze while the only clothes I could comfortably wear dried on the banister.
The air kissed my skin, making my sensitive nipples tighten and my leaking breasts tingle.
Milk occasionally beaded and dripped down my stomach in slow, warm trails.
I felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly defeated.
But we had to leave. There was no realistic way I could explain why the couple who had rented the luxury Airbnb was gone and a strange woman with a baby had taken their place.
The hardest thing I had ever done in my life was turn my back on that amulet and drive away from the cabin.
I had no idea what I was driving toward.
First, though, I had to adjust the driver’s seat.
The SUV suddenly felt enormous. I was so much smaller now that I had to slide the seat all the way forward.
Even then, my feet barely reached the pedals, and the steering wheel felt too high and awkward in my smaller hands.
When I finally pulled the seatbelt across my body, the strap pressed between my heavy, still-leaking breasts, pushing them together and making them bulge obscenely against the already damp shirt.
The display was mortifying—prominent cleavage on full show, nipples visibly outlined.
Baby Jordan was secured as best I could manage in a makeshift bundle of soft clothes and blankets, tucked carefully under the seatbelt in the passenger seat. It wasn’t anywhere close to a proper car seat, but it was the best I could do in my exhausted, emotionally shattered state.
That’s exactly how the county patrolman found us when he pulled me over for a broken taillight a couple hours down the winding mountain road.
I handed over the insurance and registration with trembling hands and tried to explain that I was Alex’s cousin, just borrowing the car.
I couldn’t produce a driver’s license that matched my current face.
He might have let it slide—especially since his eyes kept drifting to my generous, still-leaking cleavage that strained against the damp shirt—but when he saw that Jordan wasn’t in a certified car seat, his expression hardened.
Things got ugly fast.
I was so desperate, so broken, that I started blurting out the truth—what really happened with the Amulet of Morphos, the transformations, the pregnancy, everything.
The words tumbled out in a tearful, frantic mess.
The officer’s face went from skeptical to concerned to calling for backup in record time.
It wasn’t long after that when they brought me here—to the Denver police holding facility where Dr. Elena Kellogg eventually found me.