When I woke up, I was back at the Parker’s home. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows on the walls. I lay on a bed of blankets, a plastic cone around my neck—the dreaded cone of shame. Every part of my body ached with a deep, persistent pain that made me want to whimper.
Mia sat beside me, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She reached out to touch my head gently. “Lily, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”
I wanted to tell her how much it hurt, how scared I was, but all I could manage was a soft whine. The sedation had dulled my senses, making everything feel distant and surreal. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, but the line between my human thoughts and my canine instincts was blurring.
Why did Rosco attack me like that? The human part of me wondered, searching for logic and reason. Because you were a threat, the canine part of me answered. He was protecting his territory.
The duality of my thoughts was disorienting. I could remember everything from my human life with perfect clarity, but my reactions, my instincts, were purely those of a dog. It was like living in two worlds at once, neither of which felt completely real.
I shifted slightly, feeling the pull of stitches along my side. The cone around my neck made it difficult to move, adding to my frustration. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but I was too tired to do anything but lie there. The door creaked open, and Jason entered the room. He looked at me with a mixture of guilt and relief in his eyes. “How’s she doing?” he asked Mia.
“She’s hanging in there,” Mia replied softly. “The vet said she’d need a few days to recover fully. They also microchipped her, so she’s officially ours now.”
The word “microchipped” sent a chill through me. They had implanted a chip in me, marking me as their pet in the eyes of the town. Jason knelt beside me, hesitating before reaching out to touch my paw. “I’m sorry, Lily,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. We’re going to make this right.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that none of us could have predicted this, but all I could do was stare at him, my eyes filled with a mixture of pain and gratitude. The human part of me appreciated his words, while the dog part of me simply accepted the comfort of his presence.
As the night wore on, I drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in my body was a constant reminder of my new reality, but the Parkers’ presence provided a small measure of solace. They stayed by my side, talking in hushed tones and offering gentle reassurances.
Despite the exhaustion and pain, a small part of me clung to hope. I didn’t know how, but I believed that somehow, we would find a way to fix this. I had to believe it, for my sake and for theirs.
For now, all I could do was rest and trust that the people who cared about me would find a way to bring me back. As I closed my eyes, the sounds of the Parker household softly fading into the background, I held onto that sliver of hope, even as everything else seemed to crumble around me.
The next two days passed in a medicated haze. Painkillers kept me in a state of semi-consciousness, drifting in and out of sleep. I was vaguely aware of the Parkers tending to me, their voices soothing but distant. Time blurred, with hours feeling like minutes and vice versa.
I woke up with a start, my body aching and my senses disoriented. The first thing I noticed was the absence of fur—the soft blanket against my skin, the chill of the morning air. I blinked, my vision clearing slowly. I looked down at myself, realizing with a jolt that I was human again. The stitches and the cone of shame were still there. I was naked, my body covered in cuts and bruises, and the unfamiliar sensation of the plastic cone around my neck made everything feel surreal.
“Mia?” I called out, my voice hoarse and tentative. It felt strange to speak, like I was using muscles that had gone unused for a long time.
The door to the room opened almost immediately, and Mia rushed in, her eyes wide with shock and relief. “Lily! You’re... you’re human again!”
She stood there, frozen for a moment, then hurried to my side, wrapping a blanket around me. The warmth and softness were a stark contrast to the cold, clinical feel of the cone around my neck.
“What happened?” I asked, my voice trembling. “How am I human again?”
“I don’t know,” Mia replied, her eyes filling with tears. “We were so worried. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days.”
Mr. and Mrs. Parker appeared at the door, their faces etched with concern and confusion. “Is it true?” Mrs. Parker asked, her voice shaking. “Are you really...?”
“Yes, it’s true,” I said, struggling to sit up. The blanket slipped, and I clutched it tightly around me. “I don’t know how, but I’m me again.”
Mr. Parker stepped forward, his expression a mixture of disbelief and relief. “This is... it’s a miracle. But what does it mean? Are you going to change back again?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling a surge of panic. “I don’t know what any of this means.”
Mia gently helped me to my feet, guiding me toward the kitchen. “You must be starving. Do you feel like eating? There’s breakfast on the table.”
As we entered the kitchen, my eyes were immediately drawn to the dog bowl on the floor, filled with a mix of wet and dry food. The sight and smell of it triggered something deep within me, an uncontrollable urge that overpowered any human reasoning. Before I could stop myself, I dropped to my knees and crawled over to the bowl, the cool tiles pressing against my bare skin.
My hands reached for the edges of the bowl, and I lowered my face to it, taking in the scents more fully. The mix of wet and dry food was surprisingly appetizing, the meat aroma rich and savory. My tongue darted out, tasting the gritty kibble and the smooth, moist chunks. The texture was a strange blend of crunchiness and softness, and to my shock, I found it satisfying.
The family watched in stunned silence as I ate, my behavior no different from any other dog. Each bite brought a strange sense of comfort, a primal satisfaction that pushed away the confusion and fear. The more I ate, the more I felt like a dog trapped in a human body, every instinct and urge aligning with my canine identity.
“Lily, what are you doing?” Mrs. Parker exclaimed, her voice filled with shock and concern.
I ignored her, continuing to eat with fervor. The taste of the food was both familiar and alien, each bite reinforcing the divide between my human memories and my canine instincts. The crunch of the kibble and the smooth texture of the wet food against my tongue felt natural, almost soothing.
Mr. Parker stepped forward, trying to pull the bowl away. “Lily, stop. You don’t have to do this.”
A low growl rumbled from my throat, and I bared my teeth, snapping at his hand. The aggression surprised even me, but the reaction was automatic, an instinctual response to protect my food. Mr. Parker quickly withdrew, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and understanding.
“Let her be,” Mia whispered, her voice trembling. “She’s not herself right now.”
I continued to eat until the bowl was empty, licking it clean with a strange sense of satisfaction. My stomach felt full, the urge to eat finally subsiding. As I lifted my head, I saw the family watching me with a mix of horror and pity. The realization of what I had done washed over me, bringing a wave of shame and confusion.
Mia gently took my hand, helping me to my feet. “Come on, let’s get you to the table. There’s some breakfast here for you.”
I allowed her to lead me to the table, but as soon as I saw the human food—scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon—I felt a wave of revulsion. The smell that had once been appetizing now felt overwhelming and wrong. I pushed the plate away, my stomach churning at the thought of eating it. “I can’t,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I can’t eat that.”
The family exchanged worried glances. Mia reached out to touch my arm. “It’s okay, Lily. We’ll figure this out. We’re here for you.”
I nodded, but the sense of being lost in my own body was overwhelming. The line between human and animal had blurred so much that I didn’t know where one ended and the other began. The taste of the dog food lingered in my mouth, a constant reminder of the transformation I couldn’t fully escape.
As I sat at the table, the gravity of my situation settled over me like a heavy fog. The Parkers had taken me in, protected me, even when everything seemed impossible. Now, despite the bizarre and terrifying circumstances, they stood by me with unwavering support.
“Lily, we need to talk about what happened with Rosco,” Mr. Parker said gently, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but I could hear the underlying tension.
I nodded, taking a deep breath. “I remember Rosco attacking me. At first, I was scared, but then something changed. It was like my human thoughts slipped away, and all I could think about was surviving. I wasn’t in control—I was acting purely on instinct.”
Mrs. Parker’s eyes were filled with concern. “It’s understandable, given what you’ve been through. But it was still a shock to see you and Rosco like that. The damage to the house, the injuries—it was frightening.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to cause any harm. I couldn’t control it. I’m sorry for the damage to the house and for hurting Rosco.”
Mia reached over and squeezed my hand. “We know, Lily. It’s not your fault. You were put in an impossible situation.”
Mr. Parker sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Given everything that’s happened, we think it’s best if you don’t go to school for a while. We need to figure out what’s going on and make sure you’re okay before adding that stress.”
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