I woke up on the floor, my head resting on the crimson rug placed in the center of the room. A room that was coated in the scattered remains of a metal-framed bungee chair, a wooden desk, and a laptop, all destroyed and reduced to individually useless pieces. As I looked at my surroundings, I wondered where I was and what happened, but after bringing a hand up to my head, I remembered. The world believes that I, Jad Novus, am a mass murderer and a terrorist. I woke up in the body of a beautiful woman I had never seen before in my life. And based on the snippet of a winter wonderland I saw, I’d guess I was precisely in the middle of nowhere.

After standing up and looking over the mess I made, I carefully returned to the bedroom. Whatever frustration and denial that came with this revelation had long since left my mind, and I needed to indulge in my sorrow, if only for a few minutes. I threw myself at the bed, covered myself up in the warm and silky blanket, and shoved my face into the fluffy pillow. In this state, I was able to let out all my fears and worries that were overflowing my mind as I immersed myself and softness and cried my eyes out. 

…At least until I heard something.

I say hear, but it’s more like I sensed something, I recognized that someone was speaking to me, not speaking to me through the medium of sound, but rather the medium of my… thoughts. The medium of my mind. The voice grew in volume as I focused on it, and it sounded like… a woman intimidating a sassy ten-year-old boy, unable to hide the fact that they are an adult woman.

Boyish Voice: Hey, Jad, you there? Hellooo. Signaling one Mister Jad Novus! Jad Novus, please come to the phone! Oh Mistah Nooovuuus!

“Um, hello?” I meekly responded.

Boyish Voice: Oh, goodie-goodie gumdrops! Now I don’t need to try another couple hundred frequencies to see if the fish wants my wet hot worm chow. Anyhow, what’s the haps, my good man? How’s this crazy day been treating you? From what I gathered, you’re gearing up for the final stage of grief, where you accept the fact that some schmuck hijacked your body to go on a murder fueled fiesta of blood, bullets, bombs, and… fart knockers! What the bananas begins with the letter of B and means gas?

…Do I even need to say anything about how I felt, hearing this nonsense spewing high pitched little bugger bark back at me? Gah, alliteration is away annoyingly… infectious. It was a massive tonal shift from the solemn despair I was engulfed in, and all I could do was listen to this voice. Listen as they went on and on and on about… how I got into this situation.

Boyish Voice: Maybe something with a Boron base would work? Eh, whatever, Id-Gaf! Speaking of the bases, let me just go back to the dawn of it all and give you the 411 on everything that’s been rocking your world up and down the block. All shootin’ your face into space, far away from all you know and love. 

Boyish Voice: You see, it all began with this lady. This elegant, brilliant, evil as all fuck, and generally sweet-ass dame. She went by many names, but her true name was Abigale Quinlan. And you, my lucky duck you, have been blessed by Odin, Zeus, and all those other big boys and beefy babes up past the clouds, with the amazin’, twenty outta ten, body of Abigale Quinlan. So, con-glat-u-ray-trons for becoming the, trademark, copyright, and hashtag, ‘NEW’ Abigale Quinlan.

Boyish Voice: That’s badical to the extreme, my dawg, but how the flippity flam-flam did that diddle dangle into your dimension of… dickity duck dicks? Garf! So how exactly did this Abigale Quinlan encounter you, Jad Novus, and steal your body, thereby leaving you in hers? Well, T-B-Q-H, you weren’t a special case. Abi-chan wanted to hop into the body of a teenage boy and go Ultra Columbine 64 on some upper-middle-class teens. She was also very homosexual for your queer little name. I mean, a White boy named Jad Novus. That’s P. Dang cute. And equally sexy.

Boyish Voice: Kay, so how’d she do these things? She made a drug that would allow her mind to leave her body and take control of yours. It’s as simple as that. Then, after racking up three digits of those MDKs, she wrecked your face and thought that her mind would just return to her body and she could enjoy the fruits of her labor. All while watching the world pooping its pants with charcoal-colored fear shits. But, her mind did not return from your body, and she died while inside of you. No, not like that! You wish your sweet patootie she let your little prairie dog into her barn house.

Boyish Voice: Cool story bro, but how the fubar does that x-plain you? Well, the drug actually switches around people’s minds, as the human brain cannot store the minds of two individuals. Unless you got that dissociative identity disorder or some trash, but your brain needs to develop that poop-urine over time.

Boyish Voice: Or in a few words, Abigale Quinlan died in your body while going on a rampage for teh lolz. And you got stuck with her body because something that shouldn’t have happened went and happened. Only Abi-chan could fix this, and she’s as dead as a dog after eating a cyanide softball. 

Boyish Voice: Now the question ball is tossed my way and I gotta answer the big bad question of what the fartknocker am I? The name’s Peatrice, that is Peet-rice. 

Peatrice: Yeah, it’s a funky pronunciation, but I’m not taking any flack from somebody named Jad who pronounces it like bad and sad and mad. I’m an artificial intelligence created by Archduchess Abigale Quinlan, and I live inside a chip that’s plugged into her hella sexy brain. Seriously, I would take that brain over the best pussy in the world. I mean, if I had a penis to dig into it with. If I had a wet hot cock, and a physical form for that matter, they’d call me Peatrice: The Mind Fucker!

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shouted as I burst from the cocoon of blankets I sealed myself in.

While I had a high bullshit tolerance, hearing somebody drop revelatory bombshells like this, in such a casual, flippant, and disrespectful manner, was abso-fucking-lutely not what I needed right now.

Peatrice: Aight, aight, I get that my BS may have been a teensy bit much for you. But what do you expect? All my life I’ve only ever spoken to one person, and never had to get all worrisome about vernacular righteousness or whatever you wanna call it. But everything I said is true! Your body is dead, and so is the glorious Abi-Q. From now on, Jad Novus, as far as the world knows him, is some dickhead who went bananas one day and did a real nasty thing like some sort of nasty boy.

“Well, that is just fan-tucking-fastic!” I said, my face covered by my hands, the hands that once belonged to Abigale Quinlan. “How much of a sick bastard do you need to be to slaughter people like that?”

Peatrice: She had a super ultra mega amazing intellect, but she did not give a single shit for other people. That trope jive well with your brain?

” I wasn’t… Nevermind, I just… I’m lost. Where do I go from here? What do I do? How am I going to live like this?” I muttered, thinking out loud as Peatrice listened in on me. 

Peatrice: I dunno, what do you wanna do with the best body in the world? I know you haven’t fapped yet, so I’d recommend that first. But try to go real slow. Take, like, half an hour if you need to, relish in your eroticism. Hell, I feel every move you make, and I’ve been in this body for quite some time, so if you want some tips on effective masturbation-ing, just ask.

“…I want to go home,” I whimpered. “I… I need to see if my friends are alive.”

Peatrice: Y’know, you could call them. I mean, you do remember their numbers, right? Or have you become a victim to the auto-dial, that autonomous devilsome wench?

…I really hated to admit that this little prick was right, but I did not know my friends’ phone numbers by heart, and they certainly were not coming to mind. I knew my home phone number and my mother’s cell number, of course, and would try those when I found a phone. But I doubted that the single mother of a supposed mass murderer would even answer her phone if the call came from an unfamiliar number. Email was also an option, but who the hell checks their email right after a school shooting?

“Yes, I have become a victim of… whatever you just said. Look, I am going back to Oransen. Will you… help me?” I muttered.

I felt dirty as I made that request. My distaste for Peatrice is not based on the fact they constantly said goofy nonsense, but the volume of the nonsense, and the sense of disrespect I got from their tone. It was as if they did not care that I was here, and were only speaking to me because they wanted to have somebody listen to them. Peatrice actually reminded me of one of my friends, Maxxie Flare. But whereas she always valued what I had to say, and knew where to stop, Peatrice… did not care.

Peatrice: ..I’m trapped in your head, fool! I read your each and every sense, and I’m stuck with you forevers. Of course I’m gonna help you! I’m not going to let you wander through the wintery wilds where you will wallow in worries and wants. I wouldn’t get anything from watching you struggle to get home! I would be bored to tears watching you struggle and fail to do even the most basic shit! If you’re ret-2-go R-T-F-N, I can give you directions and… hold on, let me think. Oh, right!

Peatrice: Abigale Quinlan kept an emergency purse over in storage, the third room you couldn’t open. The key is hidden in that pillow you were moistening with your salty tears. Rip it open, tear it up, and we’ll get them goods. Is that cool and crispy with your beast of a brown butt, Yahd-kun?

“Yahd-kun?” I repeated.

Peatrice: I like having a surplus of scrumptious synonyms to summon whenever I get bored with calling people the same thing ad nauseam. I mean, I flip-flopped between Abi-Q, Abigale Quinlan, and just Abigale a lot there, didn’t I? It’d be boring otherwise. Being all like ‘Oh hey Jad, how’s it going Jad? I thought you might like to learn this factoid, Jad. I mean, Jad, if you really think about it, Jad, I should always be listened to, Jad!’

Ignoring Peatrice’s bullshit, I grabbed the pillow they mentioned. Considering the muscle I was in control of, I figured I could tear this open relatively easily… only for the pillow to tear into two with a single tug. A deluge of feathers were sent flying throughout the room as I emptied the contents onto the floor, searching for the key. Two minutes later, I found a key painted the same creamy white color as the feathers it was buried in. 

Peatrice: Kay, a little sloppy with the execution, but whatevers, the brain’s readjusting, and your life got flipped, turned upside down, so you got a reason to be a bit slug-like. Now head on over to the storage room and we’ll go from there, okay buddy-boy?

While I did not like Peatrice, and I did not trust them, I was also stuck with them, and they did, technically, help me out quite a lot over the past few minutes. So, I decided to continue talking with them in hopes of creating at least a decent relationship.

“Say, Peatrice, don’t take this the wrong way, but your voice is kinda androgynous, so…” I asked the voice in my head, trying to be as polite as possible.

Peatrice: I like to imagine myself as a sexually active twelve-year-old boy— a real twinker— in a leather onesie. With silky blonde hair and sapphire eyes… So moe… 

Somewhat satisfied with that answer, I promptly opened the door to the storage room, unlocking the door to reveal a darkened room that I quickly found a light switch for. The room itself was an extension of the foyer and bedroom. White walls, ceiling-mounted lights, wooden floors, and a single piece of furniture. A simple file cabinet, four square-shaped drawers high, only as tall as my… chest.

“Huh, this is it for her storage room?” I asked out loud, almost causing an echo. 

Peatrice: Yeah, it’s kind of a waste, but Abigale always was a very minimalistic person.

“Yeah, I can tell.” I responded as I walked towards the file cabinet. 

Without guidance from Peatrice, I opened up the drawers sequentially and discovered that the top three were empty. Meanwhile, the bottom drawer contained a simple looking black purse. I picked up the purse and began examining it, finding a compact makeup kit and a basic wallet with a Colorado state ID for somebody named Y’vonne Hemmings. She looked just like my current body, meaning Abigale Quinlan, except her hair was longer, and makeup. It gave me a good idea about what state, and by extension county, I was in. However, this just raised more questions.

“Y’vonne Hemming?” I asked, confused as to what I was holding.

Peatrice: Pseudonym, fake ID, just one of the many names that Abigale adopted over the years. One of her personal favorites as a matter of fact. My favorite was Maple Suzuki.

“I’ve kinda been ignoring this, but who exactly… was Abigale Quinlan? How did she make the drug that switched our bodies? How did she even get this little house? I mean, everything about it feels a little strange and…” I stammered on as I began asking some of the… six-hundred questions I had at the moment.

Peatrice: Look, J-star, you want to get home ASAP, right?

“Yes.” I bluntly replied.

Peatrice: Kay, so here’s the deets. In that purse you also got yourself a lotta money, $2,000 in total, a prepaid Visa credit card with a ten grand loaded onto it, and a plane ticket to Oransen. It’s dated for the morning of the twenty-first, two days from now— the soonest flight you’re gonna get. Abi-senpai bought it in advance, as she wanted to observe the destruction and devastation first-hand. If you wanna use that golden ticket back home, you need to get your brown booty over to Funke, a baby-sized city about a hundred kilometers northwest of here.

Peatrice: If you feel like pushing your body to the death, you could do a double marathon over to that city, stomping through half a meter of snow, or you could take a bus there. How does one get their butt on this bus? There’s a highway exit, a little rest stop, roadside town, whatever you wanna call it, it’s about… 2.5 kilometers away. If you hurry, you should make it before the bus comes. I think. I don’t have a clock here with me, so I need to see the sun to figure out what the time is.

“That’s… very thorough.” I replied, processing what Peatrice just told me. “But what should I do about clothes? I didn’t see a coat in the wardrobe, so where…”

Peatrice: There’s a little entryway before you leave for the subpar outdoors. Go there and grab your booties, your glovers, your super-special-awesome winter coat, and the Shadow the Hedgehog beanie you got as a pre-order bonus… J-K. You ain’t got anything half as ill as that. But you’ve got a good hat though.

Baffled by that incredibly obscure and unwarranted reference, I slowly made my way out of this room. Turning off the light and shutting the door, preparing to leave… at least until I remembered that I should pee before I leave. Peatrice rolled their metaphorical eyes at my ‘excuse,’ but in all honesty, I had no ill intentions in mind. 

I went into the bathroom and casually unzipped and pulled down my jeans. I waited for nature to take its course while fixating on my brown legs. I was used to hairless legs, as I always found leg and arm hair to be… discomforting and shaved regularly as such, but these were incredibly smooth and had a… flawless quality to them.

After rubbing my legs for a few seconds, I looked up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror… which was weirdly placed directly across from the toilet. 

I looked back at a beautiful face. It was the face of the person who ruined my life, and now… it was my face. As far as I knew, it would be my face for the rest of my life. This body would be mine forever, and I would never be able to see myself again. For I was no longer myself. I was now a… woman. Before I even began reminding myself of the voice in my head, or the fact that my friends could have all been killed by Abigale Quinlan, I began to sob while on the toilet. 

This… was my life. This was my body. And I would never get back what I had lost.