I'm Not a Monster

The five candles on the cream cake flickered softly, their flames blurring my vision. The pink dress on the table, bought just yesterday, had lace trim that glowed gently under the light. "Mike Green, blow out the candles!" Hanna Lynn said, holding up a black camera, her smile bright as the lens stayed locked on me. I rose on my tiptoes, about to lean forward, when a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my fingertip. "Hiss—" I looked down; my nails were visibly growing longer, the rounded tips sharpening into cold, silvery points. "Crash!" The camera hit the floor, and the battery popped out. Hanna Lynn's eyes widened, her voice trembling, "This... what is this?" Behind my ears, it felt hot and itchy, as if tiny bugs were crawling. I raised my hand to touch it—soft fur covered my skin. "Mom, my ears are so itchy." I said, my voice quivering. Hanna Lynn panicked and hurriedly pulled out a small mirror, pressing it into my hands. In the mirror, my face was covered in light brown fur, and sharp teeth jutted out from the corners of my mouth, like a little wolf pup. "Monster! You're a monster!" Hanna Lynn staggered backward, darted into the kitchen, and grabbed a coarse rope stained with blood — the same one used last time to tie up pork. "Don't come any closer! Move, and I'll tie you up!" Her hands shook violently as the rope tangled around her wrist. "Mom, I'm not a monster. I'm still Mike Green!" I cried, retreating, but she grabbed my arm, and the rope wound tightly around my ankle. I fell heavily onto the carpet, the back of my head throbbing with pain. Fur spread over my shoulders, an uncontrollable low growl rising from my throat. Hanna Lynn knelt down, tears splashing onto the back of my hand: "How can you be a monster? How could my child be a monster?" She suddenly rushed into the bedroom and came out holding gleaming metal tweezers: "Just pull it out, it will be fine once it's pulled out." She clamped down hard on my protruding fangs. "Ah—!" Agonizing pain surged through me as I screamed, "Mom! It hurts! Don't pull it out!" "Shut up! You're not my son!" Hanna Lynn snapped harshly, her grip tightening. With a crack, a fang was pulled out, blood staining my lips. She didn't stop; the tweezers moved to my fingernails, pulling them out one by one. My whole body trembled, my breath barely a whisper: "Mom, please, let me go..." After pulling out the fangs and fingernails, she pulled out a pair of scissors. When the scissors touched the fur on my ear, I shook violently: "Mom, don't cut! I'm scared!" "Crack!" The furry ear fell onto the carpet, blood seeping into the fur, spreading into a dark red stain. Hanna Lynn stared at my bare ear and bleeding fingertips, her eyes filled with fear yet carrying a twisted sense of relief: "This is better... no one will find out now." I lay on the ground, battered all over, too exhausted even to cry.