Addicted To Being Human

Their happiness is everything to me, even though it may be built upon a castle of lies and deceit. My daughter and wife are probably looking for me at this very moment, confused as to why I suddenly ran away, afraid even…

But I cannot tell them, for that would be the end of our happy family; that would be the end of all that matters to me.

The door to the shack creaks as I force it open, and I stumble into my makeshift laboratory. The transformation to my other self is already well underway, and I can feel my body struggling to remain in its human shell. Feet are enlarging, big claws protruding out of them, and my body becomes hairier as the full moon comes closer to the zenith.

In haste, I move towards the wooden box, throwing it open with such force that the hinges almost break under my inhuman strength. With shaky hands, I reach for the syringe, and hurriedly I press the tip of the immaculately clean needle into a big vein on my upper arm. I let out a scream as the human blood cells move in through my bloodstream, fighting against what makes me not human.

How does it feel to fight against what makes me myself? To lie to everyone I hold as dear? It hurts, hurts even more than the immense physical pain caused by the syringe. I grit my teeth and clench the spot where the needle penetrated, god it feels as if I willingly poured boiling water into an open wound. It hurts, but I will do it however many times I can because I am addicted to being human.

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