I transition into my new self. I can never get used to the unsightly process that is my transformation, but one has to live with what they have. If I didn't I might have been dead decades ago. Though as time passes I wonder if living in the shadows is any different from death? I must protect myself from the humans, unless I dare wish for a long, painful death, stretched out to possibly years. I guess I can understand their curiosity, without understanding their method. They do not know so much about the world they live in; they live in a world kept in a bubble away from the vast power and strength that comes from my world. I wish I could say sometimes I feel sorry for the human race, but I've watched them, and I can assure you, I feel nothing more that hatred for the despicable beings who have forced my people into hiding.
My spine snaps awkwardly to the left, and my whole body, for one moment freezes, unable to move, before a tidal wave of pain shoots through me, ripping each of my nerves to shreds as it passes from muscle to muscle. Unsuccessfully clawing the air for something to steady me, I fall slowly to the ground. My surroundings are now only a blur, a room of indescribable shapes and colours. Sadly this situation was not one I was new to. Any human in the same situation would be left paralyzed, head to toe. Transformation is a desired and one very difficult skill, and any loss of concentration could result in mistakes; and that distraction then stood in the doorway of the darkened room, her small glowing face swallowed by the stacks of books that lined the walls. She couldn't take her eyes off me, and as partially human, her eyes conveyed similar emotions; curiosity, fear, empathy, sorrow. Her bright blue eyes portrayed so many different thoughts, but it was those same blue eyes that made me forget that one second. Her already large eyes widened further when she heard the agonising snap, but her face defined perfect calmness, a small sign that distinguished her from the humans.
"Could you help me?" I asked, assessing the large break in the bone, protruding slightly through the skin, with my hand. She looked at me carefully, stepping over me, and disregarding my pain and discomfort, she placed her knee on my back, facing against the new shape of the bone and roughly pulled back my shoulders, snapping the bone back into place. A sudden warmth swept over me, and the transformation continued until there wasn't a single mark on my back, and the only evidence was the blood on the back of my shirt. I sighed, frustrated.
"My favorite shirt."
"You'll get over it." she muttered. I noticed it then, but I didn't know how I could have missed it before. She helped me up, though I didn't need the help, and then quickly let go of my arm and took a few steps back. She felt incredibly intimidated by my kind; though being partially one of us, she was still partially human. My previous life lay in a heap on the floor, discarded like clothing. The young girl glanced at it, at first with curiosity and jealousy and then in disgust.
"How often do you transform?" she asked me, not meeting my eyes. I towered over her with my new, strong build, but I still didn't know what I looked like.
"Every decade or so." She was curious and jealous, knowing that she was going to die some day. I wonder how much she would change if only she knew that so many of my kind were made and not born that way. She knew so little...