10 R 1 1

I woke up with a start and smacked both knees into a corner. Cursed. My back was stiff, since I slept half-seated and all contorted. Wiped drool off my chin and stretched. I felt rested. Nothing hurt or was aching even remotely. That was immediately suspicious and I checked my heels. The evidence was clear as day.

I didn't need it – would crawl into the city on raw knees if need be; I didn't like it – I had little say when it came to my body far too often. I sighed, swallowing the urge to make a big deal out of it. There would be no point anyway. Experience told me neither him nor the humans of similar character listened to plea of ants beneath them.

I breathed out, grinning. If this was part of the suspicious ownership package, it was comparably tolerable. People had done worse to me. Getting healed against my wishes certainly did not remotely compare. 

I picked my shit up and clambered out into the muck. My still unpleasantly damp footwear immediately began collecting water anew, with a vigour that I didn't feel. At least some of us were enthusiastic this morning. I slurped at the fleshly settled water on the crinkled car door. Freezing insides along with the toes were just the thing to get spry and fully awake.

However, my day's ordeals have only began.

"Eat," monster outstretched an arm with… a raw, plucked chicken leg. Just like from the shop. It looked great in all honesty and my stomach rumbled angrily, but I looked around with mistrust.

"Where's the rest of it?" I asked finding no trace of butchering.

More materialised and the stomach churned in a different way. My lips twisted until I finally managed to say, "You want me to eat you?"

Why? Is there a reason? Is this a monster thing? Is that normal or does it mean something? Would I be on the menu afterwards? Million options swirled through my mind, but this curveball dropped into my lap far too unexpectedly. My confusion was still in free-fall.

"You dislike when I inject nutrients directly into your bloodstream, so put them there yourself."

"It's raw," I protested. Does it need to be cooked since it wasn't a real bird? Or did he recreate whatever made it dangerous to consume undercooked too? No no, that wasn't even the problem here. If that lump of meat got cooked, would he feel it? Would he even be okay about that? The whole situation was making me opposite of hungry. "Hang on, I am not cooking you anyway. Not eating you either! What the hell?"

"What's the problem?"

"I… don't know exactly. You're sentient? That… doesn't feel right."

"I consume organisms far more elaborate than me all the time."

"And that is why one of us is a monster and the other is not," I said like a complete douche but felt the sentiment more than ever before. Not my proudest moment.

"What do you think you've been ingesting all the time I fed you anyway?"

Gulp. Urk. I honestly avoided thinking about it thus far and I would have done great not knowing in the future.

I felt anger rising again. This is why I fucking didn't want it. Bypassing stomach altogether was not only innately disgusting, but I had no idea what was going on with me that way anymore. I didn't already – he restored and fixed me left and right. Was I slowly becoming a creature? Was it even important to me to be human? I didn't know and I didn't want to find out. Didn't want to think about it. This was never supposed to be on the table for me. Everything was so damn confusing. I felt panic and rage twist inside me and go to the same place they always wind up at. A dead-end.

"Just do it the quick way. Your family's much coveted deeply unfried recipes need some work," I waved nonchalantly to hurry him up and waited. Mystery meat got reabsorbed back into monster's long fingered hand and he plodded forward, mud doing nothing to impede the approach. Monster touched me on the cheek yet again and there was no wetness or smell of raw poultry to prove it was ever there. His palm was warmer than my skin and within seconds I felt my fingertips defrost too. Was the blood even mine anymore? Did it matter?

It did. I only ever had tiny bits of myself to begin with. That was all I had. He may have tried to be accommodating but I wanted to retch.

"Why are you upset?"

"Preposterous idea. Such a fine morning. Why would I be?" I beamed at the blind demon, but had a suspicion my charms weren't working on someone whose fingers burrowed under my skin like roots. I felt them there. It wasn't a tender caress, not now and not even once before. Never when this inhuman thing was concerned. He was just plunging himself into my depths, plucking some things out and leaving other behind. Deciding for me. Reading my innermost feelings, bypassing all these walls I've worked all my life to construct.

"I can alter your chemical balance and force you into compliance. I can just sift through your brain myself. Or you could just tell me." Do as I tell you or I'll beat it out of you.

"Ah, yes. A calming, therapeutic threats. Very novel approach," I smiled and then rubbed my face tiredly, dislodging the invasive touch which clung just a moment too long as if sticky. I pressed on my eyes. Chewed my lip bloody. Nothing helped. This wasn't a fever dream. I was still here, sinking in the muck figuratively and literally.

Was this time to take a stand? Just swallow the bullet and dare the monster to do his worst? I wanted to, but that would not be the end. That was the terrifying fact of my new reality. He would and the horrors would never stop. I had places to be.

I put hand to my heart and sniffled, "I am a vegetarian and the sight of animal parts was very unsettling." Then I turned and attempted to walk away, but my stuck shoe informed me we had some other plans.

"You are not squeamish," growl right behind me made me feel as if I was about to be eaten. The timbre wasn't any different than usual but my frayed nerves registered unknown predator behind me. Not the greatest of feelings. I shuddered violently.

"You are disproportionately stressed. About as much as in presence of those upper-class humans. Why?" Demon at my back demanded in a vicious growl again.

A bit of an overreaction on my part, but unsurprising, seeing as I was still trapped by monsters and got violated willy-nilly. I froze up in a realisation. He knew somehow what I felt back there. He knew. Of course. That's what the writhing skin carpet was for. And he did nothing. Since this was a given, I wasn't even disappointed.

Subterfuge was not working so I gave up and sneered condescendingly, "I sell my body, not the soul. You're not entitled to know my feelings."

"I don't want your body. And I can force you to have any feeling I like," monster threatened offhandedly again. His growl went on, "And whilst I can just extract the information, I don't want to ruin you. I enjoy experiencing you. So tell me."

I was but a science experiment. A twisted suicidal maniac to psychoanalyse in the spare time. I forced out a smile. 

"Didn't you say talking is inefficient? Just do your flesh magic and leave me alone," muttered, lighting up a cigarette.

"Alone you will die," creature said as though it was a problem.

My fiery psyche was suddenly all spent and exhausted. The threats, the actions and implications left me hollow. "Will you even understand it? It's just human issues, boring ones too."

"No. It's why I rather you explain it."

I squeezed my eyes shut and wished to not be here.

"Remove your hood," I demanded in a spur of the moment. If he wanted my secrets I'd at least get his in return. 

The probing growl ticked on and it felt like I scored a point. He then extended a hand for me to take. I didn't and he spoke, "I want to know how it makes you feel."

I rolled my eyes and took the damned hand. With the other, he pulled the imitation of a hood backwards. Seeing a crook in place of a head didn't feel real. Everything I knew rejected the sight witnessed by my own eyes. This felt like I was dreaming. I gaped at the impossible malformation, torn between wanting to touch to make sure it's real and cover it up, pretending this has never happened.

Avoiding the delicate hearing apparatus I ran a finger through a thicker band just before the peculiar organ split into two.