Something Almost Human

Olive Kennedy Blythe was a misfit. An outcast. No one wanted her. The only ones who ever liked her were dead. Nobody knew who she was, no one cared. Most of the time she didn't even know or care who she was, either. She would put on a different skin, and for the few moments after, she would feel alive. Every single time, she would reenter the world with the same bright, almost naive, hope that this one would be different. But still she was shunned by everyone who saw her, spoke to her; even children, nondiscriminatory by nature, stayed away from this strange girl. She fought this battle with herself for a long time, through her child and teen years. Until it became so maddening and horrible that she couldn't handle anything it any more.

That's when she started stealing people's skins. Wearing them around for several days at a time and then moving on. Putting on a custom skin until she found someone else. And then for a few hours, at least, or sometimes a week, she would feel... something. Something she couldn't quite grasp onto, but sent her into a state of almost euphoria.

The process of it all could be more comfortable, though. The skin peeling off her muscles, said muscle fluidly moving over bones halfway through reconfiguration. It's why the skins she chose were all similar. It was less painful when she didn't have to change so drastically. One of the reasons why she was almost always female. But Olive was always looking for more. Another fix. Another way to feel that feeling, through the terrible pain. It was almost worth it.

But she still felt empty. There was still a portion of her missing. And she didn't know how she would find it. She was having such trouble keeping the pieces she did have together that she couldn't fathom how she could possibly have the strength to look for more. And so she focused on keeping the ones she already had.

Olly was in a town in Kansas when she found him, though. She was wearing a blonde girl with a sweet face. People would wave at her on the street and she would wave back, her heart thumping against the bubbles in her chest, her head floating in the clouds. Some of them would call out to her, too. "Hey, there, Delaney!" "How's it going, Dear?" "Hey see you at work," they would shout and a blush crept into her cheeks. She'd taken to frequenting small towns. If she didn't think about what it did to the people she was impersonating, then it was the perfect scenario. Everyone knew everyone and she would not have to seek out attention. They would find her. It was beautiful.

Olly took a seat in a diner. The waitress walked up to her, an older woman in her late forties. She smiled and set down a coffee cup and filled it without asking.

"Already got Hank gettin' your order ready, Sweetie Pie."

"Thank you-"

"Ooooohmmm, I have some gossip for you-" she looked around with a sly grin on her face before sliding excitedly into the booth across from Olly. "Guess what."

"Mm?"

"You seen those guys running around town? The big black car?" Olly shook her head. "You can't have missed 'em. All just- gosh- beautiful, even the old one."

And then she knew who this woman was talking about. They'd been hanging round a building a while away she'd cased as a possible place to stay-- a hide-out til people realized that she wasn't the real "Delaney". She nodded in response to the woman, encouraging her to go on.

"Well you wouldn't believe who I saw running out of that old factory or whatever covered in blood like you wouldn't believe. And you bet your sweet tush the cops got called. Scared the jeebers out of me, I tell you-" A plate was set out in front of Olly with a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup. "And that's my cue, hon." She got up and patted her on the shoulder before walking away.

And then it happened again. Olly looked up to see what must have been the real Delaney. Olly sighed and got up, keeping her head down and slipping into the bathroom without anyone noticing. She slid out the window and into the back alleyway, then took off at a jog to the abandoned house she was currently calling home.

Olive was back into her favorite custom skin, a slight brunette with freckles and a face that could blend in anywhere. Plain, normal. She lay on the ground, just after the shift, naked and sore. Her legs hurt; Delaney was a lot taller than this skin. She groaned and sat up, goosebumps raising on her arms as a blast of cold air swept through the creaky old house. She shivered and stood, pulling on some new clothes and putting her other ones away in an old suitcase.

Her head jerked up at sounds from outside. The neighborhood was normally quiet at this time. But there it was again. Someone in pain? She furrowed her brows and paused for a moment, listening. Then she carefully stepped over the mess she'd made earlier and peered out of the dirty window. A man was there, on the ground, curled around himself in pain, holding his head. He suddenly looked up, pure terror in his eyes, before standing and running down the street. She took a moment to appreciate how small his body had become when on the ground, yet he was monstrous when he stood.

She trotted over to another window to watch his progress, worried and amused at the same time. She wondered if he was schizophrenic, the way he seemed to be looking at someone, running from them. Her assumptions were confirmed when he turned around and shouted at nothing.

"Leave me alone!"