By the time the changes stopped, everyone in the room was watching me. All the eyes locked on my face were not a great help, and my eyes could only focus on one person at a time.

"Lyall?" Matthew said quietly.

I opened my mouth to speak but was distracted by the feeling of my mouth hinging open. I experimentally opened and closed my beak a few times. Touching the hard surface with my tongue assured me there was zero give to the rigid material. My eyes always saw a small amount of it in the bottom center of my view, and moving my head around did not affect its position in my eyesight.

"Lyall? Are you feeling alright" Matthew asked in a more natural volume.

"Yeah, I heel retty good" I attempted to speak but had difficulty with specific sounds. The lack of lips prevented sounds that were not entirely in the vocal cords. "Why can't I say that?" I asked, getting antsy.

"Relax, it'll come with time," Matthew said as he slowly walked toward me. "Does everything feel fine? Any new thoughts or anything?"

I reached up my hand to my face. Expecting to cover my mouth with my hand, I was surprised to find it blocked. I ran my hands down the length of my beak, down to the hooked tip. Then moving from front to back, passing where my nose once was and back to what was once my cheeks.

"I uhh, need to go," I said, standing up and walking toward the bathroom.

Once inside, I could not bring myself to look in the mirror. Taking a seat on the toilet, I sat and felt the beak some more. It felt alien but oddly correct, as if it were new but also always meant to be there. Reaching up, I grabbed the upper section of the beak and gave it a tug to the side. My whole head moved with it, one piece with my skull. I reached for my phone to take a photo, snapping three images, one straight on, one from the side, and one holding my beak open.

I Selected all three images and started to send them to Kole. Right before sending it, I glanced at the previous messages, and Kole was gone. I closed my phone and sat it on the counter, resting both hands and leaning toward the mirror. This was going to be my most significant adjustment yet.

I can deal with eyes sensitive to the dark, a tail that catches on things, and even the changes to my lower anatomy. But the beak, that's a whole other set of issues. Struggling with speech, the screeching, the apparent mental episode, all of it happening just after losing Kole.

I stood up straight and looked at my reflection. The face in the mirror did not reflect the person I knew just a short while ago. I tried to force a smile, but the hard beak was unmoving. I was permanently locked into a neutral expression, no smiling and no frowning. I turned to exit the bathroom to find the group awkwardly waiting for me just outside. Walking toward them, Nash was the first to speak.

"Everything feeling alright?" Nash asked. "No extra surprises, right?"

"No, just this thing, ay-e a -ew extra -eathers." I tried to answer, struggling with a few sounds.

"Gonna need to work with you on your effs," Matthew said lightly, punching my shoulder. "They won't be perfect, but you can make the right sounds if you know the trick."

"-eah, I'll need that -or thanksgiving," I said, trying to smile. Although I wasn't too much in the mood to talk about it, I knew everyone had the best intentions.

Everyone broke off to do their things. Nash and Rylie decided to make lunch while Matthew tried to work on making "eff" sounds without lips. His method was using this tongue against his beak to mimic the sound. Although completely unnatural to do, he could make an incredibly convincing "eff" I guess having as much time to practice as he has can help. He seemed excited to teach his little trick, and maybe with time, I could do it as well as he could. Assuming my speech sticks around a while longer.

Lunch was finished, and everyone sat around to eat simple burgers. Trying to eat for the first time was interesting. Trying to use the beak like a regular mouth did not go well, with me finding out you can quickly get stuff stuck inside. The bread was the biggest issue with sticking. Eventually, I just pulled the patty out of the sandwich, nibbling little pieces off as best as possible.

Matthew was adamant that I needed to be seen, worried about my diet and not wanting me to get sick. At first, I argued with him, but after the dream/whatever happened, I thought it might not be a terrible idea. Nash, of course, drove me over to the Doctors office to be seen and dropped me off with instructions to call him when I was checking out.

I walked from the car to the door, bundled up to try and stay as warm as possible. Once inside, I stepped up to the check-in window.

"How can I help you?" The woman behind the glass asked.

"Oh, I need to be seen if -ossible," I said quietly. "My name is Lyall Williams."

"Oh, Lyall, it's been a while since your last visit." She said, typing quickly into his computer. "What has changed since then?" I put my hand on the beak. "Okay, so beak has grown in.... anything else?" She typed continuously while taking glances at me. I shook my head.

I took a seat but was quickly called to the door. I was measured, weighed, and x-rayed. Being let into a room, I waited for the doctor. For as quick as getting into the room was, the silent wait in the room took what seemed like forever. I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes to rest for a moment. The clock in the room was ticking at an exact pattern, slowly waiting.

The door slowly opened, and I quickly sat up. Leslie walked into the room carrying a stack of papers, and she sat on the rolling chair and placed the documents on the counter. She looked up to see my face before writing notes on her computer.

"Lyall, I see your beak came in. How's it treating you?" She said, still typing on her computer.

"As good as it can, I think," I replied.

"When did it appear?" She asked, "Were you sleeping like your previous changes?"

"No, I felt it and was awake," I said.

"Any other new changes?" She said, bringing up the X-rays on her computer as she asked.

"My breathing feels funny, and I had this... screech?" I said, trying to think of the best term.

"Well, your breathing is probably because your lungs are no longer human. As for the sounds, are you able to replicate them?" She said with a slightly confused look.

I was caught on the comment about my lungs. "My lungs changed?" I asked.

"Your air sacs have grown in, bird breath a little differently. But it looks like they came in just fine." She said, "Now, those sounds you talked about."

I started breathing in and out until I got that tickling feeling. Then for wing air out, I screeched yet again. She had a look of shock and surprise. She began typing rapidly into the computer yet again.

"Sorry, I didn't expect it to be that loud," She said. "You can still speak too?"

"Roughly, I think," I said, slightly slurring.

"That's good. Most people lose speech after something like that." She said, looking at the screen again. "It seems you've had quite the changes internally, and both respiratory and digestive systems are more bird than human."

"What does that mean?" I asked her, "Do I need to do anything differently?"

"Possibly not." She said, looking at something on the computer. "Eating will be different at first, and filling your crop can feel like you cannot swallow."

"Crop?" I questioned.

"It's like a pouch before your stomach. Things you are are stored there and start digesting," She said, reaching for a drawer behind herself. She pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it to me.

"Digestive adjustments (Falconiformes)" Read the header.

I sat the sheet next to myself, wondering who writes these and how many exist. With a glance at the paper, I saw mentions of crops, pellets, and gizzards. All terms I was not looking forward to. I looked back to Leslie; she was quietly waiting for me to finish. When I didn't say anything, she sighed and closed her computer.

"Lyall, is everything going okay at home?" She asked softly. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Taken off guard by the question, I replied, "What do you mean? Like with my Mom?"

"I'm worried about you, Lyall. Your first change was only a few months ago, and you are already as changed as you are." She said, looking me in the eyes. "Stress and cause the changes to come quicker. Do you have any stresses you need to talk about?"

At first, I thought of saying no, but thinking back to the past few months, My stress levels have been all over. Dropping out of school, Damien leaving, moving out, and now Kole going missing. I'm sure there is a better way to handle it, but at the same time, I didn't think there was much to be done with it.

"Yeah, I've been pretty stressed," I said, unsure if it was a mistake or the right decision.

I spoke with her for the next while about everything going on. I tried to explain my reasoning for everything, but she didn't say much while I spoke. I told her about taking Jeremy to find Damien and Kole's secret from the last night. After I finished my monologue, she waited for any last-minute things I would say before starting.

"Lyall, I worked with Kole up until the end. There is nothing you could have done to stop him. You can only control yourself, and there is nothing you can do to stop what others do." Leslie said, watching my expressionless face. "You are stressing yourself too much about others, and it's hurting you."

"I know, but what if I did do something different?" I asked.

"Nothing would have stopped Kole. You did everything you could, but you can't let that take away yourself right now." She said.

*DING* Her phone on the computer desk light up. She glanced at it but ignored it. With the angle of the phone, I could not fully make out what it said.

"......princi.........aliv......" That was all I could make out.

She finished giving the basic info for my changes and reminded me to call if I had any more changes, even if they were small. I checked out with the lady at the front desk and left the building. Standing outside, I sent a message to Nash and waited for him to pick me up.

It was getting into the late fall, and the trees looked barren and dead without their leaves. Halloween passed and was uneventful for the house. Not partaking in the local neighborhood trick or treating, although I'm not sure how many parents would allow their kids around the bird freaks.

Nash arrived and took me home. On the way back, he asked the usual questions about how it went and if they found anything.

"Turns out, I have a beak now. Glad they were able to confirm that, though." I said to Nash.

"Next, you're gonna tell me that your eyes ain't supposed to be orange." He said sarcastically.

We arrived back at the house, now the sky was getting darker, and with it, my eyesight was getting worse, the shorter days of the approaching winter looking less and less appealing every day. As usual, I walked into the house to find everyone doing their own thing. Rylie and Jeremy were in the kitchen, and Matthew and Benji were on the couches talking until I entered.

"Hey there, mister gizzard," Benji said jokingly.

"Is that a compliment or...." I asked.

"I don't know, is it?" Benji said, laughing.

"Do I have one? I think. Do I know what it does? Not a clue," I said, chuckling as best as I could.

Matthew was behind Benji, holding a thumb out and rotating his hand, asking, "yes? no?". I nodded, and he gave a thumbs up before walking toward the kitchen. I sat down on the couch, taking the coat I was wearing off. While it seemed to help with the cold, anything against the feathers was incredibly uncomfortable.

I retrieved the sheet Leslie had given me out of the coat pocket. The paper did not seem to withhold much information, for better or for worse, and it detailed in somewhat gross descriptions how the digestive system of most birds of prey functioned. Raw meat, pellets, and everything I didn't want to hear were all everyday things.

Benji was standing over my shoulder, reading the page. "Hey! I have one of these. It's a little different, diagrams different too."

"Are toucans meat eaters?" I asked Benji.

"Carnivores, you mean?" Benji laughed at my question. "They are omnivores. They eat anything, or I guess I eat anything."

"Fun," I said, continuing to read.

"Does that say pellets? Like owl pellets?" Benji said loudly. "we dissected those in school!"

"Dissected?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, like picking out the bones and stuff," Benji said. "Did you not do that in school?"

"No. We did like mice and stuff" I couldn't help but feel disgusted about digging through droppings. "So does someone just, like, scrape up the poo?"

"What? No, pellets are regurgitated." Benji said, still chuckling, "Like spat up kind stuff."

I gagged. I couldn't stand it think about it. I quickly sat the paper down and stood up. I quickly walked away as I continued to gag. "We are done talking about it, Benji," I said. "Not another word!"

I walked over to the kitchen where Rylie and Jeremy were preparing food. As I went to talk, there was a loud snap, and Nash yelled, "Damn it!"

Looking over to the walk-in pantry, Nash was sitting on the floor with a mouse trap snapped on his fingers. He removed it from his hand and reset the trap. He carefully placed it on the ground, careful not to trigger it.

"Can you push it a bit closer to the back?" Rylie asked, "I'd rather not have it snapping at my feet."

"It'll be fine for tonight," Nash said, standing up from the ground. "It'll need to be cleared in the morning. Lyall will take care of it, right buddy?" Nash said as he walked past, patting my back.

"Yeah, sure," I said, pointing my head in his general direction. "Anything I can help with?" I said to Rylie and Jeremy.

"Nah, Jeremy did most of it," Rylie said, looking at the counter. "So blame him if it is terrible." Jeremy gave her a light shove as he started spooning chili in a bowl.

We gathered around the table and ate. Jeremy and Rylie received many compliments for the chili, but oddly when I tried some, it seemed like it had little to no taste. Trying to smell it, I could not tell the difference between it and dirty water. It had to be just me, as everyone else seemed fine.

The beef had some taste to it. However still bland tasting and certainly not how it should be. I tried to force myself to eat but didn't have the desire to. Once everyone finished, I helped Rylie clean up from dinner while everyone else moved into the living room. Rylie noticed me carrying the almost full bowl to the sink.

Quietly she asked, "A little too spicy for you?"

"No, actually kind of the opposite," I said to her as I rinsed the bowls.

"Well, look at you, Mr. Spice." She laughed. "If you need your mouth to burn, just tell him to make yours hotter next time. He can't taste spices, so he guesses anyway."

"I'm sure it was good, and I couldn't taste any of it," I said, joking back.

"Probably still adjusting to it," Rylie said before walking toward the living room. "If you feel peckish, just raid the fridge for something."

I finished wiping the bowls clean and put them in the cabinet. Walking toward the living room, I felt my stomach wanting some kind of food before I left the kitchen. No one was paying attention, so I figured I could take Rylie's advice and grab something from the fridge.

Opening the door, I saw many random prepackaged, single-serving things, and nothing seemed quick or appetizing. After looking over the same few things for the fourth time, I noticed a small tray. The tray had a plastic film over it and some sliced meat. Something about the red color looked interesting, and my eyes kept coming back to it whenever I scanned the fridge.

I reached under the film and pulled a thin strip from the package. About an inch wide, four inches long, and a quarter inch thick. I tried to smell the red ribbon but could only get some slight odor from it, not a foul odor, and honestly, it smelled kind of okay. Without thinking, I held it up and grabbed it with my beak from my hand. Once it was in my mouth, I flipped my head back, assisting it on its way in.

Unlike the dinner, I could taste this. I'm not sure how to describe it, but it tasted great, and eating it was incredibly satisfying. Without thinking, I swallowed it whole. It felt almost like it didn't make it all the way through, like it was just past my neck. I assumed that was fine and reached for another without realizing it. I stopped and thought about what I had just done—eating raw beef from the fridge, a new low for me.

I shut the fridge door and walked toward the living room. My hunger partially satisfied, I walked into the living room. Everyone was sitting around the Tv watching whatever movie they had just started. I sat down next to Jeremy and joined in watching. I tried to pay attention, but my eyes felt heavy as they went. The movie seemed to drag on and on.

At some point, I had fallen asleep. Waking up alone in the living room with all the lights still on. Looking at the clock on the cable box, it read "3:43 am". I laid my head back against the couch, stretching my neck out. I felt the seemingly stuck food move further down. Giving a bit of relief that the issue sorted itself.

But my stomach still ached, not having eaten a good meal in so long. I pulled myself to my feet. I was again walking toward the kitchen to repeat the same routine of searching the fridge five times over. I opened the door and looked inside again. Unsurprisingly, nothing had changed except a small pot of chili with foil now residing inside. And there sat what my stomach wanted, the small thin strips of beef. I grabbed one piece and picked it up with my beak, swallowing it. The same taste after eating nothing but bland bean water was a godsend.

*POP*

The metallic sound made me stop mid-reach into the fridge. What followed was a high pitch but quiet sound. I wasn't sure of what could make such a sound, but something about it piqued my curiosity. I followed the sound and found myself in front of the pantry. Opening it, I found the trap Nash had set and, in it, a field mouse. Its head is caught in the trap that failed to do its job. Seeing how it was trapped, I knew it wouldn't survive even if released.

Having grown up in a home with a mouse problem, I had to deal with similar things in the past, and the only humane thing to do would be to put it out of its misery—no reason to let a living thing suffer. As I picked up the trap, it began to flail and yell, and I dropped the trap before getting up and grabbing a bowl of water to drown the poor mouse. I sat back down, not looking forward to the next step but knowing it was the right thing to do.

I picked up the trap, but as I did, the mouse started to move and made me lose my grip on it. Trying to keep from dropping it again, I grabbed it with my other hand, and the mouse managed to get ahold of some skin on my finger and bit. Most surprisingly, I pulled my hand away and smacked the bowl, causing it to spill on the floor. Now I was left with no water, holding this poor suffering animal, and my mind raced to think of a solution to stop it.

Something in my head clicked. The stress of the situation, the pained yelps of the mouse, and the idea or more of an action came into my head, and without a thought, I did it. In one swift motion, I pulled the trap to my face and bit the mouse with my hooked beak. The mouse flinched, then stopped moving. My head racing in realizing what I had done, I froze, not moving an inch. I felt the warmth of the mouse, now entirely dead hanging from my beak. I tried to pull the trap away but instead pulled the trap from the mouse.

Unable to bring myself to open the beak and release the mouse, I felt like bawling. While I accomplished my goal of ending its suffering, I did it with my own body. And now my body had the instinct to do only one thing. As I fought the urge, I started to feel almost dizzy. It felt like a blink. I saw still on the kitchen floor, mouse trap in hand. I opened my beak, and it was empty. I stood up and left the kitchen without looking around, leaving the presumably dead mouse for someone else to deal with.

I ran to my room, closed the door, and lay on my bed, on my back, looking at the pitch-black ceiling. While I probably left a mess in the kitchen, I needed to escape the situation. Remove the stress and keep the changes at bay.

As I lay down, trying to think of something else, to take my mind off what happened. I felt my upper chest and felt stuff in the space. According to the paper, it was a "crop". As I felt it with my hand, I could feel what I assumed was the second piece of meat move from it into my stomach. But I could feel something else in it.

I knew what it was, and I knew what it meant.