The Day My Sister And I Turned Into Wild Beasts !!link!! ◎ 【Original】

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. For the first time in our lives, we were not performing humanity for an audience. We were not smiling to put others at ease. We were not modulating our voices or shrinking our bodies.

The cage is still there, back in that dining room, back in the voices that whisper be good, be small, be quiet . But the door is rusted open. And on the day we turned into wild beasts, my sister and I learned the most dangerous truth of all: a caged animal, once freed, will never forget the taste of the open field. the day my sister and i turned into wild beasts

When I stood up, my knees were stained brown, my hair was a nest of twigs, and my cheeks were wet with tears I hadn’t felt fall. I looked at my sister. She was standing on a rocky outcropping, chest heaving, a feral grin splitting her face. We didn’t speak

We drove to the edge of town, where the suburbs give way to scrubland and the sky opens up like a second chance. We got out of the car. The sun was setting, bleeding orange and violet across the horizon. Elara took off her shoes. I took off my cardigan—the beige one, the “safe” one, the one that made me look harmless. We were not smiling to put others at ease

We are not sorry for the fur, the fangs, the claws, or the howls. We are sorry for every year we pretended they weren’t there.