sweaty messy hair jungkook for @jung-koook ♡

I smell a rat

Overnight I became a rat. I don't know how or why but impossibly, my ears are sharp icicle points, my nose is long and rough and gnarly daggers extend from between a jagged mouth. My tail, tail, like a whip it follows and wisps behind me, as though it has a mind of its own. The claws of my feet rattle against the floor with every scurrying scamper, ringing against the tiled floor like rain against glass. My new form abides every thought and follows my every command. I have become what people see me as. A dirty, flee ridden, creature, with no trustworthy intentions. I can admit I am quite a difficult person. I'm intelligent, handsome, sarcastic and narcissistic, (I know aren't those people just the worst). But underneath this chiselled, olive toned exterior lives a man looking for the love which he'd been neglected as a small boy.  If only.

Friends, not something I have come by very often. Although, there has always been my trusty ally Bruno, my golden retriever. He loves me dearly, despite his three escape attempts (we've moved on from that tiff) and he sleeps soundly on the end of my bed. I had one friend just the other day, I asked to read his paper on the train, to which he smiled and said, "Course you can, here you are." There was also the time a couple of years ago, on my twenty third birthday that I'd managed to hold on to a boy from childhood; a man now really. Liam was his name and he was my opposite, with skin like chalk and a sweet and sour personality, which parents and cats seem to adore. He was handsome in a less obvious way to most (including myself) yet he always had a lot of friends. However, I dare say he envied my charm, and ease when speaking to women. After years of 'friendship', he stopped talking to me once he found out I'd been fucking his girlfriend.

You're probably wondering how I can talk so calmly while I twitch my new ears and swish my tail. Well, I've had several dreams of this. Of becoming a rat, tormenting humans and invading their rubbish, eating their cheese and crackers. Although I would always wake up. After several visits through the neighbourhood, I would awake. Yet hours later, here I am. Watching my reflection in the oven door, my beady eyes as empty as shadows.

Honestly, I've been waiting for something exciting to happen to me for a long time. I tire easily and cannot stand the constant familiarity of mundane life. Therefore I embrace this new body and will make of it what I can, for however long or short it may be. Bruno may even enjoy the company of a smaller creature. (Our games of hide and seek will be intriguing indeed. )

*

Two days have passed since I awoke as a rodent and in my sleep, dreams or flashbacks as it were have begun to occur. I hadn't considered the possibility that perhaps I had endured excruciating pain like the werewolf transformations in 'Van Helsing', but if my flashbacks are correct; thank the lord and all that is mighty for my ignorance.

My flashbacks are inconsistent and random, although some images reoccur each night - including a hoarse scream bursting from my lungs as my flesh and skin rip away from my bones. The throbbing ache as the bones over my body collapse to the size of rice granules, the shock as my eyes shift from ocean blue to pitiless, empty black shells and my least favourite part, the thick layer of grey, matted fur covering my new, miniscule, rat sized body. This new, exciting event is not all I thought it would be. I'd thought I could live like I had in my dreams, rustle through a few more bin bags, help myself to cheese and crackers, burrow inside of a sofa cushion. Every time I've tried, newspapers are thrown against me, spades loom above to squish away my insignificant life.

I'd thought I could be better as a rat, attempt a new life where I am not a complete failure to everyone I've ever met and then alienated in the process. I'd thought wrong. The disgust  I'd once felt from people, the women I'd abandoned minutes after burying myself in them, the parents I'd alienated myself from and the friends I'd cheated and lied to, what I felt now was all of this and more. More hate and disgust; more than I could stand. Even me, a heartless, twenty seven year old male who for the past ten years has chosen not to feel a thing. I blame my parents for who I have grown to be. Wouldn't anyone? They named me Carl for starters. One of those names where teeth snap and tongues curl from the sound. My mother, bless her heart was a sweet woman until she caught my Father fulfilling his duties with another woman. She didn't say anything of course, the delicate flower that she is wouldn't dare shatter the seemingly perfect life that everyone thinks she has. My sister, Tess is the only good one out of us all. She got the good gene's, my Mum's immaculate skin and hair and Dad's quick wit and confident manor. I was dealt the worst hand of course, but none the less I try to be as separate from them as possible. They live the charmed life of a wealthy, retired couple living for nothing in a country house on the outskirts of Buckinghamshire. Mum's only keeping up appearances, in her attempt to hold things together for the children. Dad wouldn't change for anything and I would assume is still getting his weekly dose from the dog walker down the road. Last time we were all together was Christmas three years ago. Mum had cooked for all four of us and  by the time we'd all sat down, Dad was already pissed, Tess had an air of chaos about her and couldn't keep her eyes from checking the clock. Probably had an item on eBay she was meant to bid on. I wouldn't have turned up at all if Mum hadn't threatened to pick me up herself, and the thought of my mother's meddling hands dancing over my things gave me  no other option. If that wasn't bad enough, Dad's eyes wandering up and down the help's behind had Mum crashing full bottles of wine against the newly painted, pearl white walls. It had only been a couple of weeks since Mum had followed Dad to the thirty something blonde's home, where she watched him rip the blouse from her body. Unfortunately for Mum, Dad didn't care all that much anymore, so whether she said something or not, it probably wouldn't make the slightest difference to him anyway. Which brings us back to Christmas dinner, where Mum's lost her marbles, Tess has lost something on eBay and Dad's hammered. Merry fucking Christmas.

Later on that day, Tess went outside for a phone call and by the looks of it, there's no second chance bid on this item. I used to be quite close with my Sister when we were younger, but then again who isn't? Up until the age of eighteen, it was us against Mum and Dad. They were relatively happy at that point, mostly because they had an equal hatred for my disobedience at the time. We shared the same interests and had a knack for water colour paintings. I went through stages of theft and vandalism of all properties I could get my hands on, but Tess always hated my hobby and instead urged me to carry on painting. When Tess learnt that I couldn't be told to do anything, she joined me on the occasion, to supervise until she found her new and current husband. William. She fell head over heels for him and married him within a year. They had an all expenses paid wedding on behalf of our delightful parents, and it took all of my ability and self control not to piss all over the whole thing. Will was an unemployed, aspiring to be writer while Tess flitted between jobs looking for something that made her blood sing. Firstly she tried to become a masseuse, and then a swimming teacher for children and now her current position within the pharmacy.  Five years later and she is still looking.

*

My fourth day as a Rat sent me to my parent's house in the country. The journey was long and the house difficult to see when moving so low down on the ground. I tried my best to stay hidden from the people walking along the same path, but everyone now and then they'd catch sight of my tail as it slithered underneath a bush. The girls would scream and run in the opposite direction and the boys creep forward to get a closer look. Fingers point and rocks are thrown to scare me away. In that moment I want to awake from this endless dream of torment. I look down at my claws, thick and yellow with dirt clinging to the tips. My fur is matted and wet, and my skin beneath itches , probably from fleas. Something which seemed like an exciting adventure three days ago, has now become something to escape at all costs. The impossibility of what has happened is not lost to me and I wonder if denial has stunned me to the point that hope is all that keeps me going. The hope that I won't remain a disgusting, creature forever.

It takes me the whole day to reach my parent's home and as I walk up the driveway, I see a glow through the window. Running around the back of the house, as expected the back door is left wide open. I tip toe (if a rat can really tip toe) over the threshold and dash across the terracotta tiles on the kitchen floor, into the hallway and through to the living room. To my surprise, Tess's voice is the first I hear amongst the clatter of tea spoons, tea cups and saucers. Mum has set out a spread of finger sandwiches and scones (how very traditional) with conserves and butter. Tess pauses to grasp at a scone and gnaws into it, barely stopping to breath around each bite. Someone's hungry. She reaches for a handful of the sandwiches and places them on her lap, her eyes dance from my mother's to her lap. Her eyes look erratic and wild, dark bags hang beneath them and her hair seems duller than its normal, golden shimmer.

'There's a lot I haven't told you Mum.'  Tess begins and shoves a sandwich in her mouth. She chews it slowly, her eyes are closed appreciatively .

'Tell me what's wrong Poppet, you don't look yourself.' Her hand strokes away the stray hair from Tess's eyes. 'And you've lost weight! Is everything okay at home? Are you and Will okay? He's not making you do this is he? You're perfect already, please tell me what's happening.'

'Okay, Mum, Stop,' Tess swallows the rest of the sandwich. 'Me and Will, we're having a few money problems at the minute. He's finding it hard to get a job, he loves to write so much and he's so talented. You should hear some of the things he's written, it's beautiful.' A smile lifts her face for the first time. I inch forward so that my nose is only just hidden beneath the cabinet. 'I want him to do well, so he writes most of the time. He work's when he can, he's trying to get a job as a teacher but he hasn't really got the qualifications. I'm still working at the pharmacy, but  they've cut my hours way down. It hasn't been easy, the last couple of years.' Mum reaches for Tess's hand and she squeezes it.

'Oh, Tess I wish you would have told me, I can lend you some money no problem. You should have come to me sooner.' Mum giggles and kisses Tess on the cheek.

'No Mum, you don't understand.' Tess looks down at her lap again, her fingers pull away the crusts from the sandwiches. She always refused to eat the crusts. 'We don't have anything left. Will, he's...he's got a gambling problem. This all started years ago. He'd just been let go from his job at the newspaper and he went to the casino and won a bit of money. But he kept going back, over and over again. Winning money on top of money. He was doing so well and then he lost it all. We lost everything. We've been trying to make ends meet ever since. Everything was so perfect and now it's just awful. We've sold everything in the house. The car is gone, I had to sell my guitar's and Will sold his entire art collection. I don't know what else we can do.' Tess leans her head against Mum's shoulder and weeps silently. I had no idea that Tess was having such a bad time. The last time I saw her was when she visited me on my birthday two years ago. I hadn't even bothered given her the time of day.

'Well, I'm sure Carl will help out too.' Mum says, but her tone says otherwise.

'Oh come on Mum, you don't still think he cares about us do you? When was the last time he called for a chat? Or popped round to see how you're doing? I sure as hell haven't had a visit from him recently.' Tess chomps down on another sandwich. 'He only cares about himself. Unfortunately he is his father's son.' Mum nods to herself and raises the teacup to her lips. She blows into the cup and sips. I think of the last time I saw her, three or four months ago when she turned up at my house with biscuits and a photo album. I turned her away with the excuse that I was late for work, when really I was heading to the gym. I ignored all of her calls after that too. Someone won't be winning son of the year anytime soon. I feel a draft and then a slam as the front door is closed. A pair of black boots enter the room, my eyes follow up the legs to my father's face. His hair is gray all over now and his once strong jaw has begun to sag.

'Tess, what are you doing here?' Dad says and kisses the top of her head.

'Just thought I'd come and say hello.' Tess continues to look at her lap as if there is something very interesting there, other than the sandwiches and scones. 'Haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?'

'Oh good enough, still alive and kicking.' He stands there for a while, neither looking or speaking before he claps his hands together loudly. 'Right, well. Best be off, still early and got a few more errands to run. See you later Poppet.' He walks out of the room and leaves with a short wave. Before Tess can even reply, the front door opens and closes again. The sound of tyres scraping against the gravel signals his exit.

'He's always very busy these days.' Mum mutters and continues drinking her tea. Tess rolls her eyes. 'So, Yes. I'll give you whatever money you need. I'll sort everything. And don't you worry about your Dad, it'll be our little secret.' Tess nods and hugs Mum tightly. 'Now, don't you start that again. I've told you, everything will be fine.'

'I know Mum, I believe you.' Tess takes a deep breath and turns to face Mum. 'About a month or so ago, I was two weeks late. I was pregnant.'

'Oh darling, that's excellent news. I've been waiting for this for years. I'm finally going to be a Grandma.' Mum's smile oddly resembled that of a Cheshire Cat, but the tears continue to roll down Tess's cheeks. 'Why are you crying Tess?'

'We still had no money a month ago Mum. I was scared and Will was in a bad place. He was drinking more and I know he we was spending most of his nights in the casino.' Tess's fingers are clenched so tightly together they begin to turn very white. 'I had an abortion. It was the only option I could think of. I haven't told Will. It would break his heart, he'd hate himself for it and I can't do that to him.' Tess lets her head fall into her hands, while Mum wrapped my sister's shaking body within her arms. My small, insignificant heart tightens to see Tess in so much pain. I had no idea she'd been in such trouble and hadn't cared enough to pick up the phone and ask. Mum and Tess continue to mumble in the background while I look back on each time I'd seen or spoken to Tess, what she looked like, how she seemed and whether she'd tried to reach out to me. I come out blank. Without realising I shuffle forwards and Mum immediately notices her son, the rat and my nose poking out from the cabinet. She screams and grabs onto Tess. Following the direction of her stares, Tess quickly bounces into action. She takes a pillow and the shoe from her foot. Rising from the sofa she slowly creeps towards me and lowers to her knees a meter away from me. I look at her eyes, still wet with tears and wonder how I could have left my little sister all alone for so long. Tess raises the shoe high above her head, ready to exterminate my life with the heel of her sandal. I edge backwards, out of sight and range of the shoe and rush out from under the cabinet the way I came in. I don't let myself stop, I feel as though I'm leaping through a pop-up book, I can hear the shouts and screams coming from behind me and their attempts to hit me with anything in sight. Something heavy slams against my back and I falter for a second. I turn my head around and crumbled on the ground (and partly on my fur) is a scone. I run ahead and escape through the door and into a large bush. Without looking back, I begin my long journey back home.

*

I arrive home and the night has come and gone. It is my fourth day as a rat and there are no signs of it changing anytime soon. I hurry across the lawn of my back garden and clamber up the steps and through the dog flap, into the kitchen. Bruno is sprawled across the sofa with his head positioned perfectly on a pillow with the words 'relax' written on it. My claws cause taps to sound on the floor and Bruno's foot begins to twitch. He's always been a light sleeper, and it's why he's made such a good guard dog. I head towards the square slots in the cabinets that I installed specifically for wine bottles. I climb into the first one and cling to the edge of the one above with my claws. My arms and legs are stronger than I expect and I reach the surface in no time. As I hoped, tucked away in the corner is a loaf of bread and a pile of grapes. Wasting no time, I let my teeth guide and dig into the loaf, tearing small chunks away and holding it between my claws. A few bites later and I reach for a grape and make to go back down the 'ladder'. Sitting down watching me is Bruno, his eyes are alert and aware and his tail swishes slowly from side to side. I inch forward and his eyes follow me. He licks his lips and waits patiently for me to give myself over to him. To gain an edge, I pounce in the other direction towards the front door and go flying across the counter and land flat on the floor. Bruno makes a run for me and I only just escape his teeth snapping at my tail. My legs continue to run, driving me towards the large tree stood in the corner of the garden. As I approach, my eyes focus on something at the foot of its trunk. It's a bird nest and buried beneath twigs, grass and leaves are three very small and perfectly oval bird eggs. Only a week ago, this same nest had been stationed directly above me on one of the branches of the tree. The heavy winds and rain must have knocked it down. I crawl into the nest and nestle beneath the twigs and leaves. Peeping over the edge, I can see Bruno has been distracted by the shadow of leaves on the paving stones, however from the bushes, emerge two large, identical rodents. Their eyes are piercing like ink and the noses point towards me, directing them like a compass. Jumping from the nest, I stand before it on my hind legs. The eggs will become dinner if I don't try to protect them. In an attempt to appear scary, I raise my claws in front of me (if I was still human, it would look like I was ready to box) and let a mangled, growl escape my mouth. The noise is sharp and feels strange to my ears. I do it again, clawing at clumps of mud and grass also and throw it at the rats. The rats grow larger as they approach, the shadows following them, loom over and create a theatrical show of jagged points and hunched bodily forms. The rats hesitate for a while, frozen  in place by their hunger to eat and their uncertainty towards me, but eventually they move on and disappear from sight. Without hesitation, I clasp my teeth to the nest and drag it towards the house, up the stairs and through the dog flap. While Bruno continues to play with the leaves, I look around the room in search for places to leave the birds nest. I spy the wooden, thatched newspaper basket and manage to fit the nest amongst the newspapers and magazines. I create a makeshift fort by tearing up the newspapers and creating a tipi like roof to the nest. I stand back and admire my work before I'm over come with exhaustion. I have no concept of the day or time, but in that second it doesn't matter and I crawl in next to the bird nest and fall asleep.

*

When I awake, the night has passed and the sky is a bright, cloudless blue. Unsurprisingly, I remain a rat, but I decide not to dwell on that too much. Instead, I peek through to check on the bird eggs before crawling out of the basket and over to the wine holders. Bruno has taken position on the sofa once again and this time he is awake. His eyes watch me, but this time I get the sense that he does not intend on chasing or eating me today. I continue up through the holes to the bread and resume my nibbling. The surface of the counter (that I'd considered too small before and planned on extending) seemed larger than life today. I pick a firm, maroon grape and sink my teeth into the sweet and sour juices underneath the skin. I think of Liam, and his sweet and sour personality. His girlfriend of three years that I'd seduced and slept with. The childhood memories we'd shared as we grew up together. I think of my sister and her struggles. How could I have changed so much? How did we go from fighting our battles together to barely trying to fight at all? I stroll towards the microwave to see my reflection and jump back so far I almost fall over the edge. The last time I had seen myself, my fur was a grey, murky brown layered with thick grease. My ears were pointed and my eyes were black. Yet now it all seems different. My fur is softer, my teeth not so yellow, and my claws are short and blunt (the way they should be). But the biggest difference is the piercing, blue of my eyes. I stare on and on into the same eyes that I was born with. The very eyes my Mum had passed along to Tess and me. I can't help but watch the emotion and the reactions of them. Just as I step forward a little further, the home phone rings. I go to answer it and then stop myself immediately. It goes to the answer machine and I hold my breath as the familiar, soothing tone of Mum's voice sings throughout the room.

'Hello Carl, I haven't heard from you in a while, I hope everything is okay?' A genuine smile unfurls inside of me and I lean towards the phone to listen carefully. 'I wouldn't have called, except there was a rat in the house yesterday and I'm worried that there might be a nest of them somewhere. Can you pop around and have a look if you have time? I would really appreciate it. Speak soon, it's Mum by the way.' The message cuts off and I feel a weight lifting off of me. A part of me had thought she would stop caring, but she never had. She was never the problem. I return back to the microwave and my eyes are like oceans of rapid waters. My tail has shrunken down to a small stump and with glee I jump down from the counter onto the floor. I dash towards the basket, where the nest of eggs rest. Inside the tipi, the eggs are shaking around in the nest and paper. Once again I clamp my teeth on the edge of the nest and drag it from the basket, across the kitchen floor and through the dog flap. I return the nest to the bottom of the tree and wait patiently for the eggs to slowly hatch. First one crack appears on an egg and then another and another until all of the eggs have broken and released its small inhibitors into the world. Before I can decide what to do next, a bird with grey and orange feather's swoops down and somehow manages to carry all three of the baby creatures. The birds, which were covered in slime were also a similar shade of grey and so for their sakes I hope that they have been saved and reunited with their mother. With my claw, I scratch behind my ear and feel the shedding of my fur as clumps and chunks fall onto the ground, along with the tainted history of my malice.