Chrysalism by Sean Vivier

The rain came down, and I ran for my door. The rain served as an excuse. I ran not to escape the taunts. I ran to escape the rain. One is unforgivable weakness. One is understandable reason.
As soon as the door shut, I felt secure. I felt protected. The rain outside almost seemed to cover me as a blanket.
Chrysalism. That’s the term for the feeling. The sense of calm and safety while indoors during a storm. Like a chrysalis.
I made my way to the living room, the very center of the house. I had silk sheets there on the couch. One of the many reasons for my torment. But not here. Here, they served as comfort. I sat the couch, and I threw the silk around myself until it contained my whole body within. A protective shell within a protective shell. My very own cocoon.
I felt the change happen. My soft skin hardened. Not only did it harden, but bone formed outside it. My very own exoskeleton. A tougher skin.
Let them come for me now. I’d be ready. I’d have the wherewithal to withstand them. I’d be strong, like they all demanded.
The transformation did not end there. A stone carapace grew over the external bone. Then, atop that, steel coated the most vital sections. A living armor atop it all. A metamorphosis into something no one dared ill treat.
The patter of the rain changed. It landed upon the roof in more random intervals as the rainfall slowed. It felt much the same as my sudden disorientation. For my change did not end there. It continued, beyond reason.
I felt crystal grow along my arms, crystals that formed sharp ridges. Claws grew from my fingernails, so that it hurt to close my hands. Dorsal plates erupted from my back.
Like this, I’d protect myself from those who hated me, yes. But at what cost?
Everything felt wrong. My skin did not feel like my skin, nor what my skin ought to feel. I had not become a better aspect of myself. I had only become a frightened animal that defended itself with only my baser instincts.
I did not want this. I’d rather be tormented and taunted for my truest self than become this. I did not want to be this. I refused to be this.
The rain stopped while the clouds parted. I felt something underneath the layers of fortification. Something that wanted out.
I threw aside the silk, and the new skin began to crack. I stretched and writhed, so that it flaked all the more. The claws fell from me. The plates dropped and the steel shed. Stone slid from my skin, then bone.
A new body had formed beneath. A gentler body. A lighter and brighter body. A body that embraced beauty.
My body. The body I wanted.
While the sun once again shone, I spread my new wings, and I let their color shine. Let the world see my transformation. Let them say anything they liked. I’d be me.