School was closed.
Isabelle and her mother had all the blinds and curtains closed as they watched the news and ate spagetti.
"A high school massacre has ocurred yesterday which began at an unknown time. The police tell us that two teenage dogs were brutally murdered in the girls' restroom. They remain unidentified. But it seems as if they were killed by one's face being smashed in the mirror and the other much worse as they seemed to have been slammed in the sink. The skull shattered..."
"I can't watch anymore of this!" said Isabelle's mom and went to her room.
Isabelle smiled at the TV screen as she ate more spagetti. But the sounds of her mother throwing up broke her free from her hatred for the moment.
She put the spagetti down and turned the TV off. She went into the kitchen, putting her gloves on along the way. She got a butcher knife from the drawer and put it in her inside pocket. She opened up the bed room door and then the bathroom door.
She tried to comfort her mother.
"Was it you?" cried her mother.
"Of course not." Isabelle lied. "It must have been some crazy freak who was sick of the world."
"It wasn't you?" asked her mother.
"It's okay." Isabelle lied. "I didn't do anything. All I can think of is someone killing the first two and another poisoning the school lunch and eating it too."
"Why did you have me pick you up?" asked her mother.
"I called you before everyone was dead." Isabelle lied.
"Isabelle, I love you." her mother said.
"I love you too, mom." said Isabelle.
'...You only wish! You had to freaking call me names!' she thought.
Isabelle went in to her baby brother's room. He was actually the only one she still loved. The only one that didn't make fun of her.
She was craving revenge. It was almost time she'd gotten what she wanted. Terror no longer ever crossed her mind. She loved creating it by now. It was time for everyone not to forget her. Time she'd never be crossed again. Though she was unwilling to choose her brother's fate.
The very next morning, Isabelle woke up in the floor next to the basinet.
Her eyes had turned from blue to red violet. Her fur was light blue. She went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and screamed.
Her mother rushed in the bathroom.
"Oh my gosh!" said her mother.
Isabelle turned around.
"What's happened to me?" asked Isabelle. "Am I dying? Am I dead?"
"We gotta get you to a hospital immediately!" said Isabelle's mother.
So, Isabelle's mother rushed her to the vet.
Isabelle got a C.A.T. scan. They found absolutely nothing. Next, they tried x-rays. Still the same results.
In the hall, her mother was holding her brother in hopes to calm down. She didn't want her girl to leave her.
In the room, their final option was surgery.
A few hours afterwards.
The doctor came out to tell her mother the news.
"We have concluded that is a fur disease." said the doctor.
Isabelle's mother began crying.
"However, it is harmless." said the doctor.
Isabelle's mother stopped crying.
"Thank you, doctor!" said Isabelle's mother.
"You're welcome?" said the doctor, not knowing what else to say.
Isabelle's mother drove her and her brother home.
With Isabelle's eyes and fur changing, it was time she'd updated herself. She went into the bathroom and got a grey hair band out of the mirror (one of those ones that is like a cabinet) and put her hair up in a ponytail. She didn't really like ponytails, but she was going through supernatural changes. Why not personally change? She went to her room and got a notebook and a red pen from her dresser drawer and began writing down names in capital letters. First, she wrote down her first name, ISABELLE. Next, she wrote down her middle names, ALISON and BEBE. Finally, her last name was written down, LEWIS. She looked over her first two names, ISABELLE and ALISON. She scratched out the last 'E' and 'LISON' so that the paper said ISABELLA.
'Nope.' she thought. 'Still cute and too obvious.'
She scratched out ISA. BELLA.
'Still too pretty.' she thought. 'What sounds evil?'
She wrote down a bunch of names and like one in particular: DONNA. She put BELLA in front of it. BELLADONNA. She liked it. In fact, it was what she intended to call herself.