It's dark here, and I'm alone. That's what gets to me the most. Maybe, just maybe, I could bear the waiting and the apprehension if I had someone to share it with – but knowing that in a matter of minutes, the pain will come and I will no longer know myself… it's too much to bear.
Sometimes I think that maybe this is the worst part, the waiting itself… but when I begin to change I know it's wrong. The transformation is worst. And the transformation back can beat even that. But once I am changed, it is better – I know nothing of my human self – and I am without conscience, without character, without mind. I am animal and nothing more. I am made to kill, and kill I shall, if given the chance. When I am still myself I take every precaution to ensure I cannot escape.
I think about what I might be about to do – what will happen if I've got even the slightest part of the spell wrong – and I shudder, because I am a peaceful person. A peaceful person. But not a peaceful creature. The creature I become is remorseless and cruel and evil, and I hate it.
In hating it I hate myself.
It is angry, vicious, merciless. It is me, and will forever be me. There is nothing I can do any longer to prevent it. The potion has stopped working, and I am afraid that the creature has become a part of my human self. This is what I most fear. I have no way of knowing if I can control it, because of the confusion and unconsciousness it brings… the senselessness.
Sometimes, in the darkest times of my waiting, I wonder how much the creature knows. I almost want to know what it is like – what I am like – when I am the creature. Do I know that, when I take the defenceless thing between my teeth, its life will end and not come back? Is there a longing, a delight in the kill, that draws me closer to the beast as I give in to it? Do I know that, if I simply lie down like I used to and sleep for three days, that I will do no harm? Do I know that I am truly, purely bad, and cannot change myself?
My thoughts are disjointed already, and I know that the change is inevitably coming over me. As soon as I start to contemplate the creature it means that I am becoming it. So I give myself up. I will vanish for a few days, cease to exist. That's what I hope. Because I am not this thing, and I will not be. If I can't decide what it does, I can decide what it is. It is a creature. I have said it is a creature. It is not me. It is not me…
A short, slightly disturbing train of thought which, as you have probably guessed, belongs to Remus Lupin. Please review and tell me why you did or didn't like it.