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The people are afraid of me. Why? Why was I born with such horrifying curses? Why does my soul bare such darkness?
Tentacles disfigure the normal features I bestow. Why? Why? My body, I feel nothing of my limbs, my body turn to the dust it deserves to be. I deserve this fate, devoured by the beast looming behind me.
"*Monstrous thing!*" the children cry "*Monstrous thing!*" my own blood howls to me.
It is true, I am monstrous. Tears follow the slopes up my pale cheeks. The tentacles thrashed tearing at my own skin. The monster roared, everyone that I had ever witnessed cornered me, pushing my disintegrating body to the beast.
I deserve this.
Hot, ferial breath hissed from the roaring mouth of the beast. My body, oh god, my body! It seemed as though I was disintegrating and rebuilding myself all at once. Changing, that was the word, I was changing. Morphing into a even more sickeningly damning creature. One of tentacles, blood, dust, and hatred.
