Page 83 of The Turning of the Tables

I hope you feel better soon.

Please let me know when you wake up.

Are you okay?

I hope you’re doing okay.

Please text me when you get this.

At least so I know you’re alive.

Please.

I didn’t seeany of Elliot’s messages until they moved me into a real-ish room. Almost two weeks after he’d sent the first one. Almost a week after he’d sent the last one.

I’d made it a full twenty-four hours without a spontaneous shift, although I felt like I’d had the shit beaten out of me by a squad of elephants. I could heareverything. The sound of water in the pipes in the walls every time someone flushed a toilet. The sound of feet in the hallway and thesound of wind and trees outside. The occasional distant screams of terror and pain that were probably a lot like mine had been a few days ago.

After I hit the twenty-four hour mark, they moved me to a room with an actual bed, a nightstand, a window, a desk, and a chair.

The fact that I was now allowed furniture almost made me weep. It was also terrifying.

They’d brought me my glasses shortly after they moved me, and I was able to actually see more than a few feet in front of me, which told me that the reason my feet had looked funny was because they were scraped and bruised. I didn’t know if it was from shifting or from thrashing against the ground mid-shift. Not that it mattered.

Maybe I was done shifting, done ripping apart my own muscles and bones and skin and reforming them, only to stop halfway there and reverse. Reversing was the worst.

A few minutes ago, the elf nurse had come in with my phone and charger, then plugged it in for me.

I waited impatiently for it to turn on, then grabbed my phone and immediately dropped it on my own chest with a hiss of pain. My hands felt like they didn’t quite work, although they looked normal. “Normal.” Human. Theylookedhuman. Even if they no longer were.

It took four tries to unlock the phone.

Two to open the texting app.

I had the set from Elliot, a bunch from Quincy, and a few from Maza. I deliberately forced myself to read Elliot’s last, starting with Maza.

Hey Mays. I heard you got it bad. Ditto, although I’m on my way back out.

A few days later, he’d sent another one.

Maginot is working the case. I’ll update you if anything happens. Hope you feel better soon.

I wondered if anyone at the RPD or the lab knew that I’d shifted. The state of Virginia did, in fact, know, so it seemed likely that my new status had been communicated to my work, although whether they were sharing that with the people I worked with was a different question.

I wondered if Maza was still a normal human. Not that it was technically any of my business.

I sent him a message. Typing was a lot harder than I’d expected.Hi thanks for checking. Doing better.I wondered whether or not I should say anything.

Fuck it.

Shifted. Dont know how long itll be.

I sent it. Then I spent several minutes staring at the screen, wondering whether or not Dan Maza would ever speak to me again, which wasn’t fair of me at all, since he was friends with Hart, which suggested he wasn’t a bigoted asshole.

Dots appeared in the texting app.

You doing okay?Maza sent.

Better, I sent back. It was true—I wasbetter. That didn’t mean I wasokay.