Moira's mind slowly began to register what she was seeing. The twisted shape was her twisted shape. She'd gotten… bigger. So much bigger. She was crouched down and still stood the height of the full length mirror. Shoulders were broader, now barrel-chested, with ribs pressed close to the surface, turning slightly, spine the same way. Her limbs were gangly, feet and hands long… normal enough, just misshapen, but her nails were long and ragged just the same. Her Pale skin had stretched to fit her new frame, but peppered across her head and body, her skin had torn, bringing forth bulbous red lumps of various sizes. A few strands of hair remained on her head, but they'd grown down her neck and onto her back just slightly. If her hair ever started to grow back, she realized she'd have a mane. The only parts of her that reminded her of her were her nose and the few strands of her jacket that still clung to her arms and back… and one of those things had to go sooner or later.

She stepped back from the mirror slowly, wandering in a daze over to the corner of the room. All she could do now was lie down, curl up, and close her eyes. With her eyes closed she could pretend she was still a person, so long as she didn't move around too much. The soreness was fading, replaced with the numb realization she could never go back to who she was before.

Watching her from the darkness, as she tried to fall asleep, stood her new self. She, or it, or whatever it was, was crouched in the corner, dark eyes gleaming as they stared transfixed at her. It didn't seem hostile, just… watched her, waited. Waited for what she didn't know. But for the duration of her night it stood there until she woke up and became it.

Moira awoke to the sound of a man's voice, the same old bastard from the night before who hadn't left her to die. She squinted up at him, blinded by the light in the room. Her head ached, and she was sore from how she'd slept, but she was very much still living.

"You plan to sleep all day?" He asked, adjusting the rifle on his back. "Big monster has to hunt own food."

"Mmn… fuck you old man." She groaned, pushing herself to sit up. For half a moment, she felt like herself again and in that moment was peace.

"Get up. I'll show you where to find food." He said, turning and walking out without waiting for her to wake.

It wasn't like Moira wanted to follow after him, she just didn't have a choice. She did need to eat, probably needed to eat a lot more given her size now. The old man seemed pretty damn fearless given she figured she could probably kill him if she wanted to… the problem is she didn't want to. She didn't want to kill anything, especially not the rabbit that he quietly pointed out to her when she finally caught up. Maybe at his age you just stopped fearing death. Moira wasn't sure but she knew she was pretty damn afraid to die herself.

"Can you catch rabbit?" He asked quietly. Moira didn't know if she could, and she didn't want to try either. She wanted to just pretend she wasn't hungry, but if she did that she'd probably lose her mind and become like every other fucked up thing on this island.

"I can try." She said reluctantly.

Her senses seemed sharper, or maybe it was just the hunger. She didn't know which, but the burst of speed she found within her was startling. Before she really knew what she'd done, she'd someone grabbed hold of the squirming thing and cut its throat. It made a horrible noise and convulsed before falling limp in her hand.

It wasn't like what she'd done before. Beating in the heads of those other freaks was… so much different than this. It wasn't even hard at first. Claire made it alright. Besides, those monsters wanted to hurt them. Kill or be killed. This rabbit, on the other hand, hadn't done anything, and she'd killed it. She'd killed it with her bare hands. No knife, no gun, no crowbar. Her hands.

She did need to eat though.

She needed to eat now more than ever since she threw up into a bush.

The old man walked up behind her, frowning at her. He picked up the rabbit and put it into his backpack, glancing up at her every so often. "Rabbit is food. If you don't hunt, you don't eat. If you don't eat, you die." He warned, exhaling slowly as he stood back up. "Big monster can't even get own food…" He grumbled, adding something in a language Moira didn't understand.

"Hey fuck you old man." She said, trying to spit to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. "I've never fucking done that shit before! I didn't know it'd make noises like that!" Moira wasn't sure if she was crying or not, but if she was, he didn't point it out.

He grunted, shouldering his bag once more. "Takes practice." He said, turning to head back the way they came. Moira tried to wipe blood off onto the grass before following after him. She didn't like the silence of their walk, so she tried to make conversation. It was still morning, probably still plenty of time to hunt, but she figured he already had and she'd fucked up too badly for him to care anymore. She couldn't fuck up again…

"Why are you helping me?" She asked. Simple enough.

"I'm not."

"What? What do you mean you're not? What was that back there then? Why'd you fucking take me there if you weren't helping me?"

"Hmph."

Moira was quiet for a moment before realizing he considered that the end of his reply. The stubborn old bastard wasn't going to say anymore, she knew that. Maybe she'd change the subject to the next thing she wanted to know.

"Fine. Whatever. Why aren't you afraid of me then?"

"Don't ask stupid question."

"It's not a fucking stupid question!"

"Big baby monster can't even kill rabbit. Can't kill me." He replied, chuckling slightly as he walked off in front of her.

Moira growled, wanting to prove him wrong. She would show him! She… had no way to prove herself. She wasn't angry enough to kill him. It'd be stupid to kill him. If she lost her mind she'd kill him but not before, and so long as he was helping her she'd stay sane. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he was smarter than she thought. That idea killed her. A stubborn old man like him, like Barry, had no business being smart or even right. If he was right, that meant Barry was right too and she just couldn't accept that. Couldn't accept that he was right about her being a fuck up… about everything being her fault.

There'd always been a little flicker of self-doubt, though. Now it was getting brighter.

Maybe things were all her fault.

Maybe turning into this thing was punishment for what she'd done to Polly and her entire family.

Letting herself starve and lose it might not be so bad. At least then she could forget about everything.