Aurulent

the first part

As I entered the room, I noticed three things:

One, she had gotten blood all over the bed again. Two, she herself was covered in a dark, viscous substance that I assumed to (again) to be her blood. Three, the curtains had been torn from the rail, shredded and stained, then dumped underneath the windowsill. I swore under my breath. They were the fourth pair since last month and this was the set I had been saving for when I thought she had at the very least a shred of respect for my décor. Maybe she was ruining them on purpose, just to spite me. They had set the colours of the room off quite nicely, before they were destroyed.

She was curled up into a ball, sulking and being melodramatic. She was fixated on the pitiful, grey remnants of the once impressive fire, with a quiet glow still clinging to the very centre of the ashes. Rather ironic, in my lowly opinion.

She turned slightly, upon the sound of the heavy wooden door shutting. I hovered near the door, so I could make a rapid exit if need be. I could see her eyes, through the heavy, black wall that was her hair. Glistening, almost jewel-like, in that way that they do just before someone is about to cry, her eyes suddenly flicked to my face. She made a small sound, indescribable other than shocked. She scrambled to stand, quickly backing into the wall adjacent to the fireplace, facing me. 

'You fucking bastard! How could you do this to me?' She spat her words out like they tasted of rotting, maggoty flesh. 'How could you do this to me!' She twisted, contorting her body in a way that shouldn't be possible; she grabbed a poker that had been minding it's own business, resting in the fire. I stayed by the door; I don't know about some of you but I certainly don't fancy what in essence was sharp, metal stick being stabbed into my chest, most likely repeatedly. Spinning around, she glanced at it and then back at me, eyes insect-like and calculating. She smiled, or rather, grimaced, and flung it at me with all the strength and loathing she had.

Rather sadly, it requires much more than hate to aim properly. Thus, I neatly sidestepped her uncouth, shall we say, spear and watched as it clattered against the door I had so lovingly polished and cleaned, leaving a deep gouge right across it. Losing my temper, I felt a bitter scowl form across my face. 'For FUCK'S sake, Annabel! Just look at what you did! I am sick and tired of you behaving like this. It's not my fault you're locked up in here, YOU provoked ME!' She tried to cut in, wielding her finger like it was some kind of mighty sword. I just carried on. 'You know I have no control when I'm like that!'. I sighed. 'I'm going to have to chain--' I was interrupted by the ear-splitting sound of her screams.

She was doubled over, hands clutching her head. 'Annabel, don't fuck about. You're not supposed to change until next year.' She continued to scream and scream and scream, the way you would if someone had reached into your chest and dug their nails into your heart. Collapsing, she howled in pain, clawing at her skin. I had taken precautions and trimmed her nails every week, so thankfully she was causing no damage. I still had the scars on my arms from way back when. 'Annabel?!' I repeated her name as I pinned her facing down, holding her writhing body to the floor. 

She suddenly went limp. I checked her pulse-- it was going far faster than was possible, but at least she was alive. 'Annabel? You in there?' Poking her cheek, her eyes fluttered and she let out a moan. I rolled her onto her back and slipped my arms around her. 'Let's get you onto that nice comfy bed okay? I'm going to lift you up on three: one..two..' Before I could say "three", she was awake and thrashing about in my arms. I stood up and quickly ran to her bed, all the while her tiny frame bucking like an angry bull. Throwing her onto the bed, I pinned her down with one arm and grasped for the chains I kept hidden underneath the mattress. 

She screeched and swore at me, her voice distorted with agony. I finally found the chains and wrapped them expertly across her body. Locking them to the bed frame (which I had taken the courtesy of bolting to the floor many months ago), I noticed that she had stopped screaming and moving at all. I glanced at her, feeling my face drain of blood as I saw her eyes. No longer a soft, earthy brown, they had been encompassed by a dull, empty black. She had no pupil, no iris, nothing to show that she had human eyes. I stood transfixed as a gleaming yellow line sliced vertically down the center of each eye, before enveloping her whole eye in an aurulent iris, a small round pupil appearing in the very middle. Theses furious, ethereal eyes stared back at me. 

My mind scrambled to find an answer. She had started the change a whole year early. It was simply unheard of, even where I was from. What was I going to do?