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Mary was hungry.
Everyone was hungry, really.
She couldn't make it out of the bed this time. She could get to the treadmill. John had to pull her out onto a small cart, because the children wanted comfort. Hugs. Nice words. Someone to soothe their emotional turmoils.
Mary wanted that too. She wanted to be held again. Her hair brushed as she nibbled on some new food she could eat. To be tucked into bed.
But being this wishful was selfish. She was selfish. Her hands clutched her skin, as the kids whimpered and reached out with their tiny hands.
“Mary? Are you okay?” John gently nudged her shoulder.
No. No she's not okay. She hasn't been okay since the big poof. No one has.
But recently, it's only gotten worse.
It began with her shoes, old and tattered. As she rubbed her eyes and reached down the side of the bed, she could have sworn her hand made contact with them before her fingers closed around something much, much smaller.
Doll shoes? Where was her own? She had scrambled around for several minutes before she had to return to her duties.
Then other clothes. Then her food. God, some part of her was happy it was gone. That her rolls of fat were getting smaller.
But the aching was getting to her. Throwing her into a sea of weakness and turmoil. Her body betrays her wishes and hungers for something more than she can provide.
Vaguely she can recall that Sam had told her that some of the Coates freaks were coming over. Or at least one? She couldn't truly care too much.
Her head aches. Sure, she could tell someone of the forming powers that were taking her sanity, bit by bit. Then what? They'd drag her away, bury her under the eyes of Coates like the freaks. She's not a freak.
Right?
Still, she pulled energy from who knows where. Mary stood, leaning heavily.
Something smelled delicious. She didn't know where. She couldn't figure out the exact scent, but whatever it was, it tempted her soul.
“Mary? Where are you going?” His voice was drowned out, tunnel vision settling in Mary’s gaze. Her pace quickened, yet her balance became even more unsteady.
Hunger. Food. As if something else was pulling the strings, puppeteering her around as a form of entertainment.
A hazy figure seemed to be the source of her light, the thing that will cure her. As their- her features became more apparent, Mary began to notice other things.
Namely, the girl was holding a crying child like a fish. The boy was kicking and bawling, while the girl looked like she was going to throw him.
She will not stand for this! Or sit. Neither was good. One step, two steps, running forward. Pulled by some other will, she launched herself at the offender. Her steps cracked an already fragile floor tile. Airborne, like her body was ordered. To attack, to consume.
The girl, (Dana? Dory? Delilah? She couldn't remember.) dropped the kid to face her, her face twisting in shock. Whatever protests she could have made dissipated, as Mary's hand closed around her arm.
Instantly, the girl shrunk to the size of a barbie doll, a very angry force of nature. A deep sense of revulsion squirmed in her all too empty gut. But on she went, a force of nature over her mind.
Mary moved her to her mouth, her jaws opening wide for the treat, the savory snack that will end her suffering, her rage, everyone that IS WRONG WITH HER, before the offender swung her body to nail her in the eye. The pain struck through Mary's skull, vibrating with a very annoyed little creature called starvation.
An inhuman howl ripped from her throat, clutching her socket as Dekka floated to the ground. The boy, the boy from before, had fallen, but he was stunned. Mother Mary was screaming like a demon. John ran over, eyes wide with fear as he picked him up and ran back to the safety of behind an old cubby shelf.
Mary had fallen on some vase, porcelain shattering across her hands, her face twisted in hatred, hunger, something darker than she had ever felt. She crawled to her feet, froth dripping down her mouth as her limbs shook with a sludge mess of emotions.
Dekka hit the ground hard, the shrinking effect dissipating. She groaned, sitting up and yanking a chunk of a broken chair to use as a weapon. Her eyes were wide, taking in the whole scene.
Mary's hands reached up to grip her hair, sobs erupting from her throat. This wasn't right. She wasn't right. But she raved, she seethed, and it changed her. Much more than the Gaiaphage could ever dream of.
She made to take a step forward, hissing slipping from her mouth- her maw.
Her eyes flicked to her younger brother, cowering as he clutched the prees close to him. They little children looked up at her with watery and pathetic eyes, visibly holding the back to approach the monster Mother Mary had become.
It.
Hurt.
It hurt so much. Mary wants to protect the children. She's scaring them, isn't she? Like…like-
No. She's better than that. She had to stay strong for the prees. Without them, without John, she is nothing. She has given everything she has and will continue to. Mary shifts her gaze to the white eyes of…the girl. She still doesn't know her name. Knowing the name of- of her food would just cause more stress.
She didn't want to dwell on anything. No, not anymore. She crashed into the girl, Mary couldn't waste time, waste no time for this. Her body, actually following her wants for once, shrunk the girl again. Saliva dripped down her chin, a drop or two spattered on the other. Mary tried to force her into her throat, her eyes squinted as the Coates’s student kicked and punched everything she could reach. A harsh kick knocked at a loose tooth, beginning to rot from lack of dental care. The stabbing pain of the cavity made sobs shake Mary's body, but she persevered, able to close her lips around her prey and holding her throat to push the struggling lump down.
Choking, struggling to breathe, Mary curled into herself until she could feel the Coates freak settle down somewhat.
“... Marie?” A tiny voice called out, as fragile as her mental stability. A little boy, barely out of diapers, had waddled over to her, hands supposed to be full of baby fat clutching her pant leg. “Marrriii???” Mary raised her gaze, from the floor, her hands, to the kid and to the chair flying to her head.
John heaved, rushing the kids out of the daycare. Fear fueled his steps, he couldn't look back. Not anymore. Steps flashed by in a blur. Empty, meaningless moments. He felt like he was being hit by a truck, like everything was swirling in a jarring change of time and pace.