Tell me what you think.

Tell me what you think.

The transformation

I told Sarah to meet me here today knowing I will reveal myself to her. It’s time.

I have been on a high with her for a hundred and two days, eleven hours and thirteen minutes. She makes me feel..normal. She makes me forget that at the end of the day I’m something stitched together from danger and instinct and things I can’t always control.

“Hi” I say softly, when I see her in the distance. I try so hard to sound casual,even though it feels like something massive is sitting on my chest, pressing all the air out of me one painful breath at a time. She walks toward me with a phone in her hand and a small backpack hanging off her small dainty frame. There’s this bright, careless kind of glee on her face — like the world is still simple enough to be annoying instead of terrifying. “Why are we meeting here!?” she calls out as she gets closer.“I got lost like fifteen times. Not even Google Maps could figure this place out.” She exclaims in a teasing but slightly annoyed manner. She looks around, confused, squinting at the empty space like it personally betrayed her. Then she’s right in front of me. “Ethan, what’s going on?” she asks. I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Come on Ethan. You’ve done this a million times. Just speak. “I… I-um.” She laughs a little, not uncomfortably but as if I’m being dramatic on purpose, she grabs my hand without thinking. That simple contact short-circuits everything in me. Not fear. Not anxiety. Her.

“I need to show you something,” I say finally, voice tight. “ You have to promise me you won’t run.” I say with a slight stutter. That lands differently. I see it in her face-the curiosity sharpening, the worry creeping in behind it. “Okay,” she says, softer now. “I promise.” I take a breath. Then I take three large step backs. This distance is enough to make the world feel like it tilts.

And I let it happen. The transformation isn’t quiet.

It’s violent — like my body forgets what shape it’s supposed to be and forces a new one into existence. My bones, weight, scale, everything rearranging itself into something that doesn’t fit in the world she knows. A scream ripples through her throat a sound so loud the birds once in the trees are now startled and fly away. And then silence, a deafening silence. I can hear her unsteady breathing, it’s sharp and broken, almost hurt. Sarah has always been small, 4’8 to be exact, but now she looks even smaller. Not just physically- something about the way she stands, the way fear shrinks everything around her until she’s all weak and vulnerable. So small I almost want to put her in my pocket and protect her forever so nothing bad could ever happen to her.

Realisation dawns upon me. I can’t protect her from the world. She needs protection from me. It physically pains me that I cannot protect her.

Her ocean-blue eyes — those impossibly bright, honest eyes- are fixed on me like I’ve become a story she never wanted to hear. Not even minutes ago, they were full of warmth, love and familiarity. Now they’re glassy, drowning in tears that haven’t fallen yet. I can feel it in her too- the fear, the adrenaline, the way her body is already deciding how to survive me. Who am I to protect her? To her, I’m not Ethan anymore. I’m something else entirely. A creature. An unknown. I want to reach for her. To hold her. To say, it’s still me, like that could stitch everything back together.

But the moment I move towards her, she steps back. Her breathing shakes- uneven, shallow. I can see it, hear it, but worse I can feel it. Even the cold air betrays her, turning her every exhale into thin white vapor that disappears too quickly, as if it’s afraid to stay. Her hands tremble as she reaches into her bag.

A phone.

What is she doing?

She dials a number without looking away from me. Like if she blinks, I’ll become something worse. “Sarah,” I say, trying to anchor her back to me. Trying to make this real again.But she just lifts a finger. A warning. A boundary. It barely reaches my chest.

Ring. Ring. Ringggg.

My phone starts ringing in my jeans pocket, vibrating violently against the torn fabric of what used to fit me. My clothes strain against my body like they’re still trying to pretend I belong to this world. Her world. Then the call cuts off. Finally, she looks at me again. Really looks. I’m standing at 7'3 now, and I can see what it costs her just to keep her eyes lifted. Like she has to force her body not to turn away.Like I’ve become something she can’t unsee. For a second, I think she’s going to scream again.My chest tightens so hard it feels like it might split.“Please,” I say, and my voice breaks in a way I don’t recognize. “Please, Sarah.”She doesn’t answer right away.She just stares. And then, quietly — like she’s saying my name from the edge of a cliff-

“Ethan”…….