Driving down the old broken down highway, Chanel huffed.
God, how could Octavia even say that to her? T-to say that she was the one on a pedistal. Ohohoh, well of COURSE the fucking model, with a victorian gothic manor, Fiancé, countless followers and hoard of pets would have the audacity to say that to her.
God, what a surface leveled bitch.
But, then again, she’s the humble one, despite how many times she’ll recite all these facts would suggest any different.
And she just loves to pretend like she’s a fucking savior around that place for ‘repairing broken souls,’ or whatever the fuck she wants to believe.
Ha, jokes on her, Chanel could see through that bullshit. Call a murderous ex-cultist with daddy issues “dad” and he’ll level with her, give an attention seeking child abuser who believes he could possibly be saved (as if the child herself hasn’t suggested otherwise about him to her in private) some love and attention and he’s wrapped around her finger.
The bitch pratically seeks out anyone and anything ‘broken’ so when she ‘fixes them’ they truely believe they can’t do anything with her, then she can go ahead and complain all she wants when they’re no longer indipendant because she babies them so much. She could say that she needs a backbone, but honestly, everyone else needs one, instead.
Honestly, Chanel shouldn’t even be upset that she was leaving, she was basically doing herself a favor. The only Priss she needed in her life was herself. No two faced liars, no “sisters” who feel entitled to shutting a relationship down to make herself look better, nobody.
If she wants to talk down to her, but not even consider thinking ‘huh, maybe I should try and look from her perspective so I can understand that maybe people deal with situations a lot different than I do,’ then that’s her fault.
Besides, this was all wigging her out. The fur hair on her neck stood on end, a highish whimper freely escaping her throat now that she was all clear from everyone.
She’s only been on the road for 7 minutes, opposite direction from the camp and Octavia. Taking the old and (mostly) abandoned highway back to the city, it was a bit of a longer trip by 5-10 minutes, but nobody drove down here, especially at this time of night.
The highway cut straight through the woods, the overgrown brush above cast the moonlight in rays rather than the usual blanket that typically laid out in rural Sleepy Peak.
Honestly, the only cars she’s seen down these roads were school busses from the local high school, matinence trucks, and the occasional stranger lost in the woods.
She sighed as her grip on the steering wheel tightened, it caused the leather to creak, which caught Chanel’s attention.
Peering over, her stomach dropped.
Claws.
Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK.
Chanel slammed on the breaks, her hands shaking. She hadn’t noticed a transformation starting, she only really paid attention to the little things, but this?
Instinctively, she parked onto the shoulder, overlooking the forest. She had to calm herself down, now was not the time to do this.
Literally!!
It was a new moon tomorrow nightt, the furthest from a full moon you could get!
God damn it, she was wolfing out from stress. She could hardly even control her breathing or the splitting headache that grew as the seconds passed.
She stepped out of the car, already feeling cramped with the roof flipped on. She felt... Restricted... Like the air was running out, like everything around her was shrinking without control and heating up to a million degrees and burning her alive.
Her senses exploded, everything becoming loud, causing her to scream into her fist. Tingles and shots of pain whipped up and down her spine, everything was too intense too fast.
Impulsively, she took off her jacket and shoes, nothing. With a panicked glance of her surroundings, nobody was around to see her, but regardless, she didn’t fucking care. She tossed off her shirt, shorts, bra, everything, leaving her exposed and revealing fur that slowly crawled and wrapped around her, leaving her with a light fuzz that grew thicker by the second.
It was painful. Painful and fast. As if every bone was breaking underneith her skin and playing a game of twister against her will, it was sickening, she wanted to cry and maybe vomit.
With a shakey breath and hard to control hands, she rambled through her glove box, grabbing a collar from the back as she reached for her phone with her other clawed hand.
Right... She couldn’t call anyone, she couldn’t be even be seen. Not like this.
Her dad was too far to come get her, like hell was she calling Penelope.
And Octavia...
...
...With time running out, the grabbed her collar, slipping it on tight. She tossed her phone in the glovebox, locking it in before she locked up her car. She clipped her keys onto the tag ring of her collar, keeping it safe with her.
With any luck, she’d remember where she parked. With better luck, she’d be close.
With consiousness slipping away, she ran far into the woods,
