I smell Kwamé.
It's the first thing I register, even before opening my eyes, before I pick up Akatua's lavender-y scent, before I notice that I'm naked, in a bathtub filled with water.
Thank God I waxed.
It's a weird thought to have considering everything that I've been through before I passed out, but it comes to me, anyway. When I open my eyes to survey my surroundings, I am met with their cautious, concerned expressions.
"Uh..." I trail off, not quite knowing where to begin, "... why am I in a tub of water?"
They share a look before Akatua hangs her head. I begin to worry about what she'll say next, worry that it will be something that will really piss me the hell off.
"It came early."
"What came early?" I ask Akatua. She bites her lip, looking relatively pale under the bright lights, as if trying to think of how best to phrase things.
"Er... your day of metamorphosis," she tells me. It takes a moment for it to click together in my head, but when it does...
"Nya, wait," she says as she holds me in place, preventing me from climbing out the bath tub. "Hold on." I give her a burning look, one that tells her not to test me. She sits back on her heels and sighs as I get up and walk over her, wetting up the bathroom floor in the process.
I stand in front of the full length mirror and look at myself. I look... different. A bit more like Akatua, but also a bit different. My eyes are more almond shaped than they were before, and my breasts and ass look bigger. My lips look fuller, my cheekbones look sharper. If I were looking at a picture, I would swear that it's some wacky photoshoped version of myself... but it isn't. It's so real, it's not funny.
"How?" I ask, beyond confused. "How is this possible?"
"I'm not completely sure, but it's probably affected by stress. They knew. The Ol' Higues. I'm... sorry, Nya."
"You know that this isn't your fault, right?" I tell her, but when I look at her, now sitting on the wet ground by the bathtub, I know she disagrees.
"I should have known," she mutters, fiddling with her fingers.
"How the hell were you supposed to know?"
She simply hunches over while Kwamé puts a hand on her back soothingly. Sighing, I pick up the towel from the rack and dry myself off before wrapping it around myself. I don't miss the way Kwamé watches my every move, both concern and interest twinkling in his eyes.
When I go into my room, I let out a frustrated sigh. None of my underwear will fit anymore, not comfortably at least. I wouldn't have expected to be so calm after something like this, waking up in a bathtub looking like I'm fresh out of plastic surgery. Hell, what will my classmates think? My boss?
More importantly, who cares?
Wait, so does this mean I have to retake my student ID picture? My driver's license? Will I be accused of stealing my own identity?
Yeah, I am freaking out. Delayed reaction, I guess.
"Nya," Akatua says when she sees that I'm starting to freak out. All of these questions hit me way too quickly. "Nya? Breathe, honey." I realise that I'm kneeling on the ground in my room, and my towel is unravelling, but I don't care. I don't give a shit about that, because I'm too busy freaking out.
"Nya," she says rubbing a hand down my back, "you need to calm down."
I can't.
"I don't know," I tell her, squeezing my eyes shut. I hear movement behind me and I know that Kwamé is there.
"What don't you know?" she asks, putting one hand on my back.
"Anything," I tell her, inhaling heavily. "I don't know anything anymore... I don't know..."
"Come here," Kwamé says, sitting on the ground beside me and pulling me into his chest, rubbing small circles into my back. I stay there and hyperventilate, fall apart in his arms, glad to get a certain sense of safety from his strong body holding mine.
"We love you," he tells me, lips on my neck, "and we'll figure this out. I promise." When I calm down, I sniff him a little bit, like the weirdo that I am, before resting my head on his shoulder.
"You smell nice," I tell him as he rubs my back. "You always do."
"Even as a bull?" he asks me playfully. It makes me smile.
"Never checked," I tell him.
"I'll, uh, get some stuff for you to wear," Akatua says, getting up slowly. "Kwamé, look after her for me please."
"Yeah," he says without turning his head.
"Where are you going?" I ask her, still inhaling the smell of Kwamé's skin.
"I'm going to buy you some panties, since yours can't fit anymore."
"Thank you," I tell her, as she walks out the door. I sit in silence for a while, before sighing and speaking.
"I'm sorry."
I feel his hand pause.
"What are you sorry for, sweetie?"
There he goes again with those terms of endearment. I know it's probably out of practice, because it's something that many Jamaicans, including myself, just do, but every time he does it, I feel all tingly inside.
"I'm being a drama queen," I admit.
"No you aren't," he says fiercely, pulling back. "Anyone who's been through even half the shit you've been through has every right to freak out. I'm just so sorry it had to be you."
"I..." I begin, but I donk know what to say. I try again. "It's worth it," I tell him, "being around you. With you. Both of you." I let out a sigh of contentment when he begins to rub my back yet again. "You're worth it."
I don't have to pull back and look to know that he's smiling. I can hear it in his voice when he says:
"You're worth it, too."
***
Over the past few days, since I've undergone my metamorphosis, I've experienced more than just physical changes. For one, I didn't expect to become so... horny. I've been walking around the house, getting wet every time I see, smell, hear or sense Kwamé, and I know that he can smell it on me. If he could smell me nearing my period, he can definitely smell the liquid constantly gushing out of my birth canal. He's been avoiding me because of it, and I know he's losing his grip on control, too.
I'm sitting uncomfortably in my own wetness on the sofa, when he tentatively sits across from me, before looking at the television, back muscles stiff under his white t-shirt. Spongebob is on, and I have a feeling that he's barely registering what's going on on the television.
"So, you've stopped avoiding me," I say to him. He turns his head sideways, not fully looking at me, before answering.
"Couldn't do it forever," he says to me. "We live together."
"Fair point."
We sit there in an uncomfortable silence before he speaks to me again.
"Are you a virgin?"
"What?" I splutter. Surely, I must have heard wrong.
"Are you a virgin?" he asks again, and I groan internally. He isn't going to make this easy, is he?
"Yeah," I tell him as calmly as I possibly can, but I can feel myself getting wetter by the second.
"Huh," he grunts, and I never knew that that noise could sound so... amazing. Sexy. Rough.
Promising.
"Why? What is it?" I croak.
"I just want to know how much it'll hurt when I f*ck you for the first time. How gentle I'll have to be."
"Are you a virgin?" I ask him, and he turns to look at me, his eyes reddening and hooded with lust.
"No, I'm not."
Something tells me not to ask about it and before I know it, he's standing over me,tilting my chin up.
"I'm tired of this," he says, before kissing my forehead.
"Tired of what?" I ask him in a shaky voice.
"Tired of torturing us both." He leans in and kisses me on the on the lips, and I lose it. I pull him in, and he almost falls on top of me, thanks to my recently acquired super-human strength. Then he pulls away.
"Get up," he says to me, his eyes ablaze now, and it's as if there's nothing there but him. The sound of the cartoon on the television is all but a distant memory. Our breathing and the sound of my pulse is all that's really there. Quickly, I do what he's requested, and he smirks at my eagerness.
***
"Great. You're done. Now would you please open the door?"
Sighing, Kwamé pulls away, his eyes now back to normal, and puts his clothes back on, slowly, might I add, and hands me my shorts. It takes me a minute to recover enough to put them on, and sit as he walks to the door.
"You guys--"
Kwamé interrupts her by opening the door, and she steps inside. She takes in the sight of my naked chest before shaking her head.
"Lu'lu is back at it again."
Kwamé's expression instantly sours.
"I'm just done having sex, and you had to pour that shit on me."
Akatua huffs out a breath of frustration before handing him a newspaper that I didn't realise that she had until now. He raises an eyebrow before reading it aloud, probably for my benefit.
"Men from Sligoville Disappear."
Oh, no.
"Are you sure it's her?" I ask.
"According to Zuhrah, yes."
"We should kill her," Kwamé says.
"If we can't die, how can she?" I ask. It's a question that I've had before.
"Kill her spirit. Kill her inside. Make her wish she could die," he clarifies, eyes glowing.
Well, damn.
"Has your friend made the instrument yet?" Akatua asks, and Kwamé nods.
"The friend from St. Lucia?" I ask. He nods, and I cock my head to the side in curiosity.
"What is he, by the way?" I ask. Kwamé never told me.
"He's a loupgarou. Werewolf."
"Ah," I say, nodding my head. I look between them, waiting for them to continue.
"He's started," Kwamé tells her, before turning to me. "It's something that can cause great pain to whoever is on the wrong end of it. To put it in terms that you'll understand... it's like the Cruciatus Curse in Harry Potter. Or Papa Tunde's Blade in the originals." I look at the ground, and shudder, not sure if I'm comfortable inflicting that much pain on another individual.
"Hey," Kwamé says when he sees my concerned expression. "Just so you know, she'd do it to you too, if she could."
"I know," I tell him. "I'm just..."
"Not capable of evil," he finishes for me. I bite my lip and nod. "You have to learn to be, if it's in self defense."
"I'll try," but I sound unconvinced of my capabilities, even to mg own ears. Akatua comes to sit on the couch beside me and rubs my back.
"Trust me," she says, "in the moment, you'll do more than try."
I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid of hurting Lu'lu, afraid that it will awaken some dark force inside of me that I won't be able to switch off. I do have her essence running through me, after all.
"There's another issue," Akatua says, fiddling with her thumbs while looking down. Sometimes, when Akatua is nervous about things like this, it makes me nervous, especially since I know her to be so... confident.
"Anything that can be done to her... can also be done to us, you and I, Nya, so if she gets the instrument--"
"She won't," Kwamé says fiercely, but I'm not convinced. Akatua's words... they don't just scare me.
They terrify me.
***
* Sligoville is a place in Jamaica near to Flat Bridge and the Rio Cobre.
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