Chapter 5
Sandra
“Sorry for keeping you waiting.”
“Don’t worry about it...” Luther says as soon as I get into his car. “Wait, were you crying?”
I lower my head to hide my reddened eyes, but he holds my chin and forces me to look at him.
“Char didn't give me an advance, but that's okay, I'll manage.”
“How much do you need?”
"No, Luther. I'm not going to take your money."
"Think of it as a loan, then. Pay me back when you can."
I bite my lip, I'm so desperate that I'm going to accept his offer.
"Eighty," I murmur, ashamed, humiliated.
"That’s it?" he says, and I feel even worse. It may not seem like much, but to me it's a lot. He takes the tips he has saved in his trouser pocket, removes a few notes and hands them to me. "Here."
"Thank you," I whisper, embarrassed.
"You're welcome."
Luther then starts driving, the journey from the tavern to my house is shrouded in a thick silence, heavy with tension, while I avoid his gaze.
I get out of the car, and he accompanies me. We walk side by side, the flickering lampposts casting long, distorted shadows on the asphalt, until we stop in front of the gate.
"This neighbourhood isn't safe," he breaks the silence, his deep voice laden with a concern I can't ignore.
I shrug, trying to downplay the importance of his words.
"It's not like I can choose anything better right now."
"Yes, you do. You can stay at my place."
I almost choke on my saliva.
"And sleep where, on your tiny sofa?" I wrinkle my nose. "Only if I turn into a cat to fit there." I try to be funny to hide my burning embarrassment.
"Then don't sleep on the sofa." He gives me a crooked, amused smile. "You can sleep in my bed."
I push my shoulder against his, trying to deflect what his smile suggests, but the tension between us only increases.
"Very funny."
"I'm not joking. My bed is comfortable and spacious. And besides, my house is safe."
The way he says it makes me pause.
A sharp hesitation settles in my chest, something I can't ignore.
I may not have enough to eat or a decent bed to sleep in, but if I go to your house, if I give in...
No. I've already accepted your money, I'm vulnerable.
I don't want to feel like I did with that bloody rabbit.
"I can take care of myself, Luther, but thank you."
He stops abruptly and runs his hand through his silver hair with a frustrated sigh.
"I'm just trying to protect you, you know I care about you."
My words come out more shaky than I would like.
"I understand, but after what you told me yesterday..." I shake my head. "It's not a good idea."
"Sandra..."
But I can't deal with this anymore. I start desperately searching for the key to open the gate, and then I feel his touch.
He touches my hand lightly, but before he can say anything, a blur on the street catches my attention.
Luther notices it at the same time I do, and we both turn to look.
The witch emerges from the shadows as if floating, her presence so dense that the night seems to bow down to her. Her eyes glow like embers, and the smile she displays cuts through the air.
"Where is he, you slut?" Her voice is low, but every syllable that comes out of her mouth burns like acid on my skin.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"My husband!" She hisses, and the smile fades, her gaze becoming a sharp blade. She raises a slender finger towards me, pointing angrily. "Where is he?"
"He's not with me!" I cut her off. "I wouldn't touch him if you paid me in gold."
"That's not how it looked when I found you in my bed with him!" The witch raises her hands towards me, her thin, trembling fingers stretching like twisted branches, writhing menacingly in the air. "You'll pay for daring to mess with what's mine."
The air turns icy around me, and the pressure in the atmosphere makes my chest tighten.
"I didn't know he was married..." I murmur, staggering, anxiety and guilt consuming me.
Luther steps in front of me with frightening speed, blocking my view of the witch. His arm extends behind him, his hand gripping my waist with a firmness that tries to anchor me.
But the dizziness hits me like a violent wave, striking me with full force.
A whirlwind of lightheadedness invades my mind, and my vision blurs, the contours around me becoming diffuse.
The air, once heavy, now seems to thicken, chilled as if the temperature had dropped dramatically.
A shiver runs down my spine as a sharp headache explodes in my forehead.
"Go back to your house," Luther says, his voice firm and authoritative. "Your traitor husband is not here."
My knees buckle, and instinctively I grab Luther's shirt, trying to steady myself. My head lops to the side, and as it does, I catch a glimpse of the witch. Her eyes, once blazing with rage, now shine with despair, and the flames turn to tears that slide down her face.
"I can't find him anywhere," she says in a broken voice. "And I can't track him, it's as if..."
"That's none of our business," he cuts her off sharply.
"But you..."
"Enough, get out of here!" Luther's command explodes in the air, his voice like thunder. The woman takes two steps back, her eyes wide.
My eyes widen too, and I feel an urge to back away, but something keeps me there, motionless, watching as the colour drains from her face. Then, with one last glance in my direction, she turns and disappears into the darkness, leaving silence to spread throughout the room.
When Luther returns to me, his irises shine like silver flames, cold and relentless. It's the first time I've seen them like this, the first time I've witnessed his power, reflected in the intensity of his gaze.
"Come with me, Sandra."
I shake my head, trying to ward off the pain in my temples, the bad feeling running down my spine, and the dizziness. My body is exhausted, and my mind is a chaotic storm of thoughts.
I just need to be alone. I need to lock myself in my flat, throw myself on the bed and let the world outside disappear for a while. Tomorrow, things will get better. At least the rent will be paid, and that will be some relief.
But there's still the incident with the witch... and Luther.
Luther, who has done so much for me, who lent me money and continues to give me lifts, even though he lives on the other side of town. I can't accept any more. I can't allow myself to become even more vulnerable.
"I'd rather be alone," I whisper. "You'd better leave."
Luther holds my shoulders, his eyes fixed on mine, as if searching for something I cannot offer.
“Are you sure? I sleep in the living room, I was just joking about sharing the bed, you know that, right?”
I look away from you and nod my head.
"My life is a mess, I need to deal with it on my own."
"Why won't you let yourself accept help?"
I shrug.
"When you finally open your heart..." He murmurs, his voice soft, almost enigmatic. "Everything will fall into place, Sandra. You'll see."
Thunder rumbles, and lightning splits the sky, illuminating everything around us. My body shudders, as if every fibre of my skin feels the impact.
The headache throbs fiercely, unbearably, and my face contorts before I realise it.
"Luther..." My voice comes out broken as I take a step back. "It's going to rain, I'd better go inside."
He watches me for a moment, something sombre and resigned passing through his eyes, which sparkle silver before returning to their usual blue. Then he relaxes his shoulders and lets out a sigh.
"Wait for me tomorrow," he asks, turning his attention to the street. "Don't go out alone. It's dangerous out here."
As if the universe had heard him, another bolt of lightning tears through the dark sky.
I don't answer, I just hurry into the building. The chill and dizziness still plague me, a strange sensation that runs through my muscles and seeps into my bones, as if the electric discharge from the lightning had crossed the air and struck me directly, leaving an invisible mark.
The burning sensation spreads under my skin, a disconcerting mixture of heat and chills that makes me sweat, despite the low temperature. I feel the urgent need to open the window a little, letting the cold wind in, hoping it will bring some relief.
With that, I head to the kitchen, determined to drink some milk, hoping it will ease the emptiness in my stomach.
I open the fridge, but the shaking gets worse by the second, and my unsteady hands cannot follow my commands.
In the next instant, the jug slips from my fingers, shattering on the floor.
The milk spreads quickly across the floor, forming a white pool, a perfect reflection of the mess I feel inside.
"No!" I cry out, my voice breaking, desperate.
I quickly bend down, tears streaming down my face as I try, unsuccessfully, to save what's left of the milk.
The only thing I have to appease my hunger.
My roar tears through the air, a primal, desperate sound, laden with pain. The trembling in my body only increases, and an urgent, uncontrollable need takes hold of me.
Only then does understanding strike my mind, like a snap, and everything becomes clear: the chills, the heat, the dizziness, the electricity running through my body...
I need to shift.
It's not a choice. It's as if my animal essence is tearing through the barrier with its claws, out of control.
The sensation grows, vibrant and relentless, infiltrating every muscle and reaching my bones. An invisible force compels me. It is suffocating, as if my own body were being controlled by something beyond myself.
That witch... did she do something to me?
Or is it just my body reacting to extreme stress?
My heart races, and in the next instant, my body gives way. My bones and muscles stretch and twist, a sharp pain pierces me from within, a feeling of rupture.
My blood vibrates and my vision darkens as my form distorts. Every movement makes me want to scream, I try to take control, but I can do nothing but accept it.
The transformation consumes me, and in a few seconds, I am no longer a woman.
I become a cat.