SAGE
This could not be my face.
My face—my old face—had been swallowed up by something unrecognizable. The width of my jawbone matched the size of a giant banana. The skin on my forehead stretched over an unending expanse on bone that led to my skull. My lips … swollen. My skin … pale green, bumpy, blistered. My hair … limp, the luster gone. My toes—which had shoved their way out of the ends of my tennis shoes—proved that the serum had left no part of me untouched.
I wasn’t cognitively damaged; I could see everything about the bathroom, crystal clear.
I’d grown taller. The sinks set lower in proportion to my body. I took up the entire expanse of the mirror, from top to bottom, side to side.
I reached up and felt the skin on my cheek. Leathery, raw.
My hand shook.
I was changed, but my mind was still here. I was coherent but trapped inside this.
What had I done? I would die like this. People would watch me die like this.
I screamed again—an agonized, unnatural cry.
At the same moment, Jack appeared in the doorway.
I spun from the mirror.
Beneath the terror at my changed body, I felt relief at seeing someone I knew.
Someone who would help me make it through this nightmare. Who would endure it with me, help me.
Jack held a gun, his arm relaxed at his side. He’d been expecting to see his dad, no doubt. His gun was out because he knew he had to be ready for a confrontation.
A growl escaped my throat at the thought of Dr. Adamson.
Jack remained motionless in the doorway.
He watched me.
I watched him back, waiting for the shock to subside for him, knowing this had to be hard for him to see.
What was the right thing to say? I had to explain why I did it, that I had to do it. Jack, of all people, would understand that.
He just had to get over the shock …. I’d be patient. I’d wait for that.
He clenched his jaw, looked away, and blinked several times, like he might be pushing away tears. It reminded me of the way I must have looked with Finn, that first time I saw him as a modwrog.
From across the expanse of bathroom between us, I started to reach my hand out toward Jack—to help, to offer support, to do … I don’t know what.
We’d make it through this moment together.
But Jack’s face went hard, all emotion wiped away.
He raised his gun and aimed it at my chest.