Normal is Overrated

Chapter 2

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that I’m warm. Which is unusual, as my cupboard is freezing year-round. It is unlikely that Uncle Vernon turned the heating on, as for one, it’s summer. Why would he turn the heating on when it’s warm outside? Second of all, he knows that there is a vent in my room, so he wouldn’t turn it on until I was awake and outside of my room. I can think of only two reasons as to why I’m warm: either I’m sick, or I’m not in my cupboard.

I squint my eyes open and immediately close them again. Definitely not in my cupboard. The light is way too bright for that! I crack my eyes open again, allowing them to get more accustomed to the bright lighting, before looking around at my surroundings. The walls are grey, and so is the ceiling. Fluorescent lights are attached to the ceiling, giving the area a cold, clinical feeling, like in the nurse’s office at school. And like the nurse’s office, there are cots lining the wall behind me, so I’m probably lying on one. Curtains are pulled to the side, allowing me to see each of the cots, but they can be closed to shield the patient if need be or desired. Mine are open, allowing me to see the entirety of the room.

I force myself into a sitting position to see the rest of the room. The far wall has a few doors, though only five are decorated, like it’s someone’s bedroom. One is white with red splatters, like my blood when Uncle Vernon whips my back with his belt. That hurts. Another one is also white, though it has yellow smiley faces on it. The third one is a dark navy blue with no designs. The fourth one is painted a toxic green with a single plague symbol spray-painted on it in black in the middle of it. The last door only has one design on it: a large, black hazard symbol. There is a small table between each of the doors in use with a bottle of hand sanitizer and a box of plastic gloves on each of them. 

There is a set of wooden stairs leading up, so I’m probably in the basement. There is a shiny-silver cart with sharp things on top like what I saw on the telly once, before Aunt Petunia changed the channel to one of her soap operas. The sharp things glint in the light. There are no photos down here, though there is a wooden shelf along one wall that has a lot of glass jars on it, each one filled with something floating in a clear liquid. One jar looks to be filled with eyes!

I shift a little, and feel weird. Why do my legs feel so heavy? I peek under the blanket to find that I do not have legs. Instead, I see a long winding snake tail attached to my waist. I scream.

I flinch at the scream coming from the other side of the door. Looks like the kid is awake. And his vocal chords seem to be working just fine, I mentally grumble, rubbing my ears. I walk out of my bedroom and grab a couple plastic gloves, and snap them onto my hands, minding the claws, as I approach the child freaking out on the hospital bed. His eyes are trained on the serpentine tail protruding from his waist, looking absolutely terrified. Then again, I was too, when I woke up after the damned ritual. 

I clear my throat to get the baby Naga’s -- what are Naga young called, anyway? -- attention, though it’s slightly muffled behind my mask. He jolts and looks up at me, eyes wide, showing off his bright green and golden heterochromia. “Hello. Are you hurt?” That’s probably the best question to ask in this situation. I was in training to be a doctor, not a veterinarian, so this is out of my league. For now, anyway. I have a shit load of books on taking care of and treating snakes, so that’s gotta count for something.

The boy shakes his head, his eyes showing that he is more wary of me than he is scared of his new appendage. “Okay, then,” I nod, and slowly creep closer to the bed. “I’m just going to take a look at your vitals, okay? Make sure you’re healthy.” I am banking on his vitals being closer to a human’s than that of a snake’s right now. If not, then I’m fucked until I can get information on what a snake’s vitals look like. Probably have to dissect one at some point in the future to make sure.