It was coming; he could feel it. Feel the aching of every bone, the clawing at his very flesh, the slowing of his heart with every second that passed. This was the worst part; being in the right state of mind, knowing what was happening, what was going to become of him.
But he had no control. Nothing had any control in this moment.
It never did.
Boiling, threatening to spill over and consume his very being, the anger was rising. He tried to calm it, to suppress it; there was no point in bringing the process on any earlier. Anger always fed it, like a shark smelling blood in the ocean's waves; it went into frenzy, devouring anything and everything it could grab hold of. Never stopping until there was nothing left to destroy, nothing that hadn't already been overtaken.
Taking deep, slow breaths, he gazed out over the rolling, grassy hills, basking in the silver glow of the moon's light. There was a wind rippling over the land, making the grounds turn into a churning sea of the night. His eyes flowed over the rolling land until it met the forest line and disappeared into the shadows of the trees. How he wished to be out there, free from the captivity that his condition held him in, the vice grip that seemed to be unbreakable, invulnerable to all.
Sighing through his nose, he drew the curtains over the window, backing away from the view he so longed to be a part of.
It was alive now more than ever.
The skin he was in didn't feel like his own; rippling and feeling ready to tear apart and allow his real self show. No matter how much he tried to repress it, the efforts were fruitless. In minutes, his true form would be revealed, the one that represented what he really was…
A monster.
A/N: So, when writing this, I thought of Lupin, if you didn't catch that. It's about right before his transformation into a werewolf one night. I pictured it from the Shrieking Shack, but maybe that's just me. Sorry it's so short. I might use it later, in a different story, but for now, here we go:)