A Terrible Secret
"Punch Carly?" asked Alison.
"No thanks, I'm going to stay sober for now," said Carly.
Alison shrugged and poured herself some purple punch.
They were at a house party and Carly wanted to work up the courage to tell Jack something. Something about her crush on him. Outside the moon shone bright, casting everything in a ghostly light. But inside the electric lights were on and the party was quite a sedate affair.
"I'll be going upstairs shortly," said Jack from across the room.
Carly realised that she could probably catch him alone if she hurried upstairs first. She hastened up the stairs, towards the bathroom door.
She wanted to reapply her makeup. She had brought her handbag with her. She knew she overpacked wherever she went. It was like a nervous habit. She gazed in the mirror and brushed aside her long, thick brown hair. Her reflection gazed back with bright brown eyes. Her mascara needed touching up. She rummaged through her handbag and found a roughly carved wooden mask that she had found in the river the previous day. She really didn't need to be carting that around! She took it out. It was quite plain and unadorned. The cheeks of its carved faced seemed to bulge somewhat. She wondered who it could fit. She lifted it up to the light. Was it her imagination or did the inside of the mask appear to shimmer with eerie lights? She lifted it to her face.
As soon as it touched her she felt a terrible jolt through her entire body, like a powerful electric shock. The mask was clinging to her face, burning her. She tried to grab at it, but it clung on tightly and tendrils of wood sprouted out from it, encasing her whole head and tangling in her unruly hair. And then it squeezed hard on her skull. So hard she thought her brain would burst. She collapsed to the floor, her eyes tight shut, agony overwhelming.
And then there was another flash. She felt different. Power coursed through her. The pain was gone. She felt strong. The colours of the bathroom towels and mats now seemed brighter and more vibrant. The myriad scents and smells of the bathroom were now much more intense. She touched the woollen rug. Sensations coursed through her. Her fingers were so much more sensitive. Nothing could phase her now. She was on her feet. She glanced at the mirror. She was not even shocked to see the apparition in the mirror – herself, but bright green and completely bald, with lips of a darker green, almost black. She touched her cheek. Her face was very smooth to the touch and her own touch felt exquisite.
She glanced at reflection again. So different and yet her breasts were no bigger. As if in obedience to her thoughts, her breasts expanded, her bra straining to contain them. Well she needed to wear something more stylish. Suddenly her clothes became tight fitting black leather. She suddenly remembered something. Jack would be coming upstairs. Well now she knew what to do.
Swift as lightning, she streaked down the passageway. Jack was just emerging from the stairwell and turning into one of the rooms. She darted in after him and shut the door, willing it to seal itself. Jack turned and gasped. His beautiful freckled face was startled. She knew she was unrecognisable. She glided up to him, swift as thought. "Hey hot stuff," she said and her voice was low and husky. She reached up to stroke his lustrous auburn hair, but he took a step back.
"Who… what are you?" he stammered.
"Don't you know?" She pounced on him, bowling him over onto a sofa and brought her freakishly altered face close to his sweet, normal one. "Ready to make sparks fly?" she breathed.
"No! Let me up," he said, plainly terrified. He struggled, but she kept him pinned down, amazed by her own strength.
She put a hand over his mouth. "Ssh, just relax," she whispered huskily.
The next morning it was Sunday. It was still early morning at Carly's house. Her mum and stepdad, Pam and Guy, were sitting at the kitchen table.
"Where is Carly? She didn't come back last night," said Pam, "she's in trouble when she gets back."
"Ah now, she's probably in her room like a good girl," said Guy soothingly.
"You know full well she hasn't been back," snapped Pam.
"There you go, always flying off the handle," said Guy.
At that moment the front door slammed.
"Carly!" yelled Pam, "where've you been?"
"In my room, mum," Carly called back. But her tone was sarcastic and her voice was trembling.
"You get in here!" called Pam.
"Aw, you heard, she's been in her room," said Guy.
"Rubbish!" snapped Pam. Then she called, "come in here this instant young lady, or else."
There was the sound of footsteps and then Carly pushed open the kitchen door. She looked a mess. Her thick, unruly hair was messier than ever and her mascara had run down her cheeks. She had been crying.
"Listen, last night was absolutely crazy and I think I did something terrible, so don't start on me, mum," said Carly, her voice trembling.
"There, she's under the weather, let her go to her room," said Guy.
"Cut that out, Guy," said Pam. In a softer voice she addressed Carly again. "Dear, if you're really under the weather, you must talk about it."
Carly sat down. She sniffed. Her bottom lip was trembling. "I'm an awful person," she said abruptly, her voice choked.
"No, you're true blue," said Guy.
"What happened Carly, what did you do?" pressed Pam.
"Couldn't have been bad," said Guy.
"Quiet Guy, don't minimise it," said Pam. "What did you do, Carly?"
"I – I think I raped a boy!" said Carly, her voice rising hysterically.
