Chapter Text
Beagan looked up and down the hall a couple of times from her hiding place in the fake plant. There was nothing but the quiet hum of the vents as air was pushed through to the empty hallway. She took off running, diving into a roll under the cart that had been left behind by a lazy caretaker. Today was The Day. She was finally going to escape.
She scanned the area, then stood up straight. She looked around again, taking in her surroundings. She just had to get around that corner, under the door, and out into the lobby.
I can do this, she reminded herself. I have to do this.
Beagan adjusted her bag and started running, grabbing the corner to make the tight turn and rolling under the gap of the door. She stood quickly and dashed to the receptionist’s desk. The frizzy-haired woman didn’t even notice her. Beagan gave a silent sigh of relief. If she could make it to the fake plant near the door, she could try to run out as people went through.
The ringing of the phone made her jump, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Hello! Glynsdale Bitty Care Facility and Research Center, this is Beverly speaking!”
Beagan crept away from the desk and, taking a running leap, hauled herself into the plant she had been aiming for. She crawled into the leaves, careful not to rustle them as she made herself comfortable.
She could hear Beverly still talking, probably to someone about the “adoptable” bitties, and Beagan’s stomach twisted. She hated the thought of that. Adoption.
To her, it felt like being given away. Like being a pet. Beagan didn’t even know why she remembered. Most bitties, from what she’d overheard, didn’t. They seemed content enough, not asking questions, not fighting it.
But she remembered.
She remembered the feeling of freedom. She remembered being big, not some tiny creature that fit in the palm of someone’s hand. She remembered a time before the transformation—when she could walk wherever she wanted, see her grandmother’s face whenever she called, not be trapped behind glass and walls and rules. The idea of being “adopted” like a pet was an insult to her. It felt like surrender.
I'm not like them, Beagan thought fiercely, pulling her knees to her chest. I won’t just let someone take me away and lock me in a cage. I’m going to find my way back. I have to.
Beverly finally hung up the phone, and the room was quiet once again. Beagan checked the clock on the wall. Two minutes until the doors opened to the public.
As she sat and waited, Beagan noticed a car pulling into the driveway, sleek and white. But she also noticed the small rust spots near the wheel well. Middle class. Probably have a kid and are looking for a new "pet", she thought with distaste.
She checked the clock again—less than thirty seconds. She watched Beverly get up and walk around the desk, heading for the door. Beagan pulled farther into the plant, listening to the rattle of the lock and the soft click-clack of the sign being turned over.
Then, two more cars pulled in: a shiny red convertible and a dark blue sedan. Beagan’s eyes narrowed as Dr. Kenley stepped out of the blue car. The lead doctor of the center, they were always polite, but Beagan found their attitude condescending. They spoke about the bitties like they were research projects rather than people.
Beagan watched from her hiding place in the fake plant as Dr. Kenley stepped out of the dark blue sedan. They walked with an air of quiet confidence, dressed in their usual crisp lab coat. As they entered the lobby, they offered Beverly a polite nod.
“Morning, Bev,” Dr. Kenley greeted, their tone light and pleasant.
“Good morning, Doctor!” Beverly replied brightly. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
Dr. Kenley glanced toward the sunlit windows. “It is. I was thinking we might set up an outdoor area for the bitties—give them a chance to enjoy the fresh air.”
Beverly hesitated, her expression uncertain. “Do you really think that’s a good idea with Beagan around?”
Dr. Kenley chuckled softly, the sound almost affectionate. “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. We just need to make sure it’s enclosed—nothing she can climb or sneak through.” They paused, a hint of amusement in their voice. “Beagan does keep us on our toes, doesn’t she?”
Beverly gave a nervous laugh. “She certainly does. It’s like she’s always looking for a way out.”
“She is,” Dr. Kenley agreed, a small smile playing at the corner of their lips. “It’s fascinating, really. Most bitties don’t show this level of persistence. But Beagan… she’s different. It’s almost as if she believes she can get her old life back.”
Beverly’s eyebrows knit together in a worried frown. “Do you think she actually remembers everything? Like she says she does?”
Dr. Kenley shrugged, their expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement. “Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. It’s hard to say. But it certainly makes things more interesting around here, don’t you think?”
Beverly looked uneasy. “I suppose. It’s just… she doesn’t act like the others. She doesn’t seem content to just take everything one day at a time.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Dr. Kenley said thoughtfully. “And that’s precisely why I find her so intriguing. She’s not like the rest. She’s more like a puzzle—a puzzle I’d very much like to solve.”
Beverly gave a nervous chuckle. “You almost sound like you’re rooting for her.”
Dr. Kenley’s smile turned wry. “Perhaps I am, in a way. It’s rare to see this kind of spirit. It’s almost a shame to see it go to waste.” They gave a small, dismissive wave. “But she’s clever, not invincible. We both know how her little escape attempts end.”
Beverly nodded, still looking a bit uncertain. “You’re right, of course. She’ll get tired eventually.”
“She always does,” Dr. Kenley said with a calm, knowing smile. “And when she does, we’ll be right here waiting.”
With that, they turned and headed down the hall, leaving Beverly standing by the desk, still looking slightly puzzled.
Beagan, tucked deeper into the leaves of the plant, and clenched her tiny fists. Their words stung, not because they were wrong, but because Dr. Kenley’s casual dismissal of her hopes was a painful reminder of just how far she still had to go.
The door clicked open. Beagan’s heart skipped a beat.
The couple from the white car had walked in. The man in the white shirt and the woman in a beige dress were dressed for business, the kind of people who’d show up looking for a “cute little companion.” Beagan felt a stab of disgust. They had no idea what it was like, to be small, trapped, powerless.
"Welcome in!" Beverly said, her voice so chipper
She handed the couple a stack of paper to read over as the sign on the door click-clacked again.
Beagan crouched low in the dense leaves of the fake plant, her eyes darting between the front desk and the door. Beagan squinted through the foliage, trying to get a better look.
There, in the lobby, was a short skeleton in a blue hoodie, black basketball shorts, and high-top sneakers. He leaned casually against the doorframe, flashing a lazy grin at Beverly.
“Heya, I’m here to see Dr. Kenley,” the visitor said, their voice deep and smooth, with a casual ease that filled the room.
Beverly’s head snapped up, and her eyes went wide for a split second before she quickly pasted on a bright, customer-service smile. “Oh! Y-you must be Dr. Serif!” she stammered, clearly caught off guard. Her gaze flickered nervously, but she did her best to maintain eye contact, even if it was just a bit too forced. “Dr. Kenley just went through to their office. I’ll, um, page them for you in just a moment.”
“Thanks, miss,” Dr. Serif replied with a relaxed grin, leaning casually against the desk.
Before Beverly could reach for the phone, the door clattered open again, and a delivery driver stepped inside, pushing a dolly stacked high with boxes. The driver had sandy blond hair and glasses, their expression one of mild annoyance as they struggled with the load.
“Excuse me,” the driver called, slightly out of breath. “I’ve got a delivery that needs a signature.”
Beverly’s smile faltered for just a moment before she quickly turned her attention to the driver, clearly relieved for the distraction. “Oh, uh—yes, of course! Come on in. There’s a doorstop right there, if you’d like to prop the door open.”
The delivery driver nodded and wheeled the dolly inside, the squeaking of the wheels filling the lobby. Beverly seemed to find it easier to look at the delivery driver than at Dr. Serif, whose presence still had her on edge despite her best attempts to hide it.
Dr. Serif, likely noticing her discomfort, decided to lighten the mood. He turned to the delivery driver with a wide grin. “Hey, looks like you’ve got your hands full. I’d say you’re really pushing it today.”
The driver blinked, clearly not expecting a joke. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
Dr. Serif chuckled, leaning in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry—I hear the boxes are feeling crated today. They just needed a little pick-me-up.”
The driver’s confused smile grew strained, glancing over at Beverly as if seeking help. Beverly’s polite smile became even tighter. “Thank you for bringing these in. I’ll sign for them right here,” she said, taking the clipboard and scribbling her signature quickly.
Beagan watched the scene unfold, holding her breath. The lobby was filled with noise and movement—Beverly’s flustered attempts to manage the visitors and the delivery, the clattering of the dolly, and Dr. Serif's puns cutting through the air. It was the perfect distraction.
Without a second thought, Beagan bolted from the fake plant, darting across the floor. She slipped out the front door just as the delivery driver turned back to return with the empty dolly. The cool breeze hit her face, and she took a deep breath of relief. She’d made it outside without anyone noticing.
Beagan crouched in the bushes, the heat from the sun already making her sweat. She eyed the shiny red convertible, its vibrant paint gleaming in the midday light. The soft breeze did little to cool the heat she could feel radiating off the blacktop even from her hiding spot. It was now or never.
If she went with the Monsters, she'd likely end up in Ebbot City, somewhere near her grandmother even.
With a deep breath, she darted out from the cover of the leaves, sprinting across the parking lot. Her thin socks did little to protect her feet from the burning asphalt, and she winced with each step, feeling the heat seep through the fabric. She ducked under the car, pressing herself flat against the cool shadow beneath. For a moment, she just lay there, catching her breath and listening to the gentle purr of the engine.
Beagan opened her bag, fingers fumbling slightly as she reached inside. Her hands brushed past a makeshift spool of thread, a few loose buttons, and an old penny before she found what she was looking for: a length of sturdy yarn and a hook earring. The earring’s metal was cool in her hand, a small comfort against the sweltering heat around her. “Okay, here we go,” she muttered, knotting the yarn tightly around the hook. She took a steadying breath and flicked the hook up toward the edge of the soft top. The first throw missed, bouncing off the metal with a faint plink. Beagan stilled, her heart racing as she glanced around, half-expecting someone to hear. But the driver was humming cheerfully to a tune on the radio, seemingly oblivious.
She tried again, this time with a bit more force. The hook caught on the lip of the storage bay, anchoring itself securely. Beagan gave the yarn a few test pulls, making sure it would hold her weight. Then, she started to climb.
Hot air from the car blasted over her as she started climbing up the treads of the tire. The rope helped ease some of the strain, but it was still a grueling climb. Her muscles, unused to this kind of exertion, ached with every pull. Her arms felt weak, and her legs shook as she dug her feet into the grooves of the wheel for leverage.
“Come on, Beagan,” she muttered to herself, ignoring the burning sensation creeping up her forearms. “You’ve got this.”
She pulled herself up inch by inch, relying on the rope to keep her steady. Sweat dripped down her face, stinging her eyes, but she blinked it away, focusing on the climb. Her muscles burned, the familiar ache of overworked limbs screaming at her to stop, but she couldn’t afford to rest now.
She braced her foot against the curve of the wheel, using it as a makeshift foothold. The rubber burned even through her socks, but she gritted her teeth and pushed off, swinging herself up toward the side of the car. Her arms trembled with the effort, her muscles already beginning to shake from the strain. Slap! She landed on the hot metal body of the car, using her sweaty body to stick instead of sliding back.as she braced herself against the car again, the metal frame was scorching hot under her feet, and she winced as the heat burned through her socks. She took a second to shake out her arms, feeling the muscles cramp as she started again.
When she finally reached the top, she heaved herself over the edge of the soft-top compartment and collapsed onto the flat surface, panting heavily. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky as her chest rose and fell with each labored breath.
“I really need to work on my cardio,” she muttered to herself, staring up at the clear blue sky. Her entire body ached, muscles burning from the strain of the climb.
She couldn't stop now though. She sat up and started recoiling the yarn rope, thankful for a moment of rest. She needed to find a way inside the car—maybe through a seam in the fabric or a gap near the trunk. She tucked her rope into her bag.
Just as she started to search, she heard a sudden clunk. The latch for the convertible’s roof released with a jarring sound.
Her heart sank. The top of the car began to fold back, retracting into the storage bay with a mechanical whirr.
“No, no, no!” Beagan whispered frantically, trying to get out of the way of the bows and fabric. But she was too slow, her muscles too fatigued to allow her a quick enough reaction.
She rolled away from the crushing bows, but in the wrong direction. As she heard the driver begin zipping the storage compartment closed a dead weight formed in her stomach.
She was trapped.