Transformation (Superhero Black Hole, Pt. 18)

I stared into her face. The minuscule defect that I had noticed in it had seemingly begun to exponentiate itself, crawling across her face like a projected invasion on a tactical Jumbotron. The side of her face facing the screen appeared as if she’d had a stroke, as her features were subtly reforming, rewiring, reshaping themselves into a face all too familiar.

I’d seen that face countless times. I’d stared into it, kissed it, put it in my wallet in between pictures of my parents and grandfather at the fishing tournament and my old golden retriever, sung to it, laughed with it, told it to get bent after it had betrayed me, a ninja’s dagger sunk into my heart.

The transformation was complete. The face was completely altered, the camouflage dropped. A smile began to play itself upon her lips. They soon parted in a perverse sort of ecstasy, revealing the perfect, marble-white tombstones of teeth behind. She started to chuckle, then laugh, then cackle.

I tried to jump. I couldn’t. I was captive.

I screamed.

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