Nick felt overwhelming sadness sweep through his body. It constricted his chest, and made his stomach ache as he broke down into sobs. There were no tears, and it made his eyes feel dry and they stung. When his chest constricted it hurt more, causing more cries, a never ending circle.
He had never felt sadness like this in his whole life.
Transforming in itself was even more painful. Mentally and physically. He forgot things constantly, which turned to anger and frustration. This seemed to feed this never ending sadness. His nails grew at an alarmingly painful rate, and he lost his appetite, causing him to drop significant amounts of weight as he wandered aimlessly around until nightfall.
By the time he had completed his transformation, he had lost his shoes, pants, jacket and sanity. His mind, not so much. In between total despair, he would remember. Sometimes it didn't make sense. Sometimes he would get flashbacks of travelling alone, every now and again he would get flashbacks of lots of money, partying, alcohol… but total loneliness. All his thoughts led back to the fact that he was lonely. That made him cry harder, deep sobs that wracked his whole body.
His thoughts were incompetent at best. Why am I lonely? Why am I surrounded by those who don't understand? They fight each either and moan and groan? Why can't I be alone? I want quiet.
His body shook and he sat down as it started to rain. It was cold. He didn't like the cold. One foot was colder than the either now. Must be missing something.
In the distance he could hear voices, but they didn't bother him. They were too far away. He was so distraught by something that he didn't have the energy to go that far. If they got too close though…
He could hear them muttering. Not understanding what they were saying, he cried.
"Witch. Lights off."
"Don't go near her."
He growled. They were getting too close. Why did they have to bother him? He just wanted to cry alone.
They walked further away.
He continued to weep. Deep, rasping breathes. Was this it? Was he finally dying? It didn't seem that as a large sob tore free. His breathing returned to normal.
"Shit, that witch is a male. Never seen a male witch."
He groaned and looked at the group. Three people. They didn't come any closer, they stepped back, and walked away.
"That's probably why he is cryin'. Turning into a girly zombie-"
"Don't piss him off!" said one of the companions. "Just because he is male doesn't make him any less dangerous.
As soon as they were out of sight, he resumed his crying. Their words meant nothing to him, as they had no meaning. Could they have been talking to him? About him? Why did he get the feeling he could have been like them once? He had been though, hadn't he?
He looked down at the one sock. He wore clothes like them. They… looked like how he remembered once looking. Clean hair, clothes… maybe a weapon like the ones they had.
He had been the man in his memories.
But that seemed so long ago.
Would be ever be that an again? Or would he cry and dream that he could be him again for the rest of his life?
