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There are things beyond our control.

My body.

My body is beyond my control.

This is the truth. The truth of me.

What if I can’t control myself in this form because this is what I really am? What if this is what I really want?

Power and violence and freedom and oblivion.

I let my eyes roll back and the monster win.

—

I wake up naked in the distillery. Ian’s shirt is crumpled up beside me, ripped and stained. I put it on backward. My ass is out, but what can I do?

I gather up my phone and keys and stagger down the path to my car.

When I get to Scarlett’s, there’s another car in the driveway. A guest.

“Great,” I say.

As soon as I speak, the scratch of my throat calls up the vomit. I hold it in until I’m inside. I barely get into the downstairs bathroom before it happens. What is truly the most revolting and exhausting experience of my life.

I fall asleep with my head on the toilet seat. When I come to, I hear hushed voices in the kitchen.

Scarlett’s. And Matty’s.

I crawl over and press my ear to the door to listen.

I can’t make out anything they’re saying. My head throbs. I’m too queasy to move, so I don’t. I close my eyes and fall asleep again.

When I come to the second time, I don’t hear any voices. I reach up and twist the knob, opening the door a crack so I can peek out to see if the coast is clear.

It is.

I stumble upstairs and take a shower, vomit some more, then nap. I remember to plug my phone in before I pass out.

It’s charged when I get up however many hours later. I slept all day. It’s dark out.

I take a palmful of Advil and venture downstairs, where I find Scarlett alone on the couch.

“Sleeping Beauty,” she says.

“Wrong fairy tale. Move over,” I say, squeezing next to her.

“I was worried about you.”

“Sure,” I say, pulling up the video on my phone.

“What’s this?”

“I haven’t watched it yet.”

I probably should have, just to confirm that I got it. But I don’t want to see it. I don’t need to.

She does.