Marcus took a deep breath and looked down at the hand on his arm. It was slender, with delicate fingers that tapered into perfect ovals at the tips. He looked in the mirror to see the girl, who he had been turned into. To face this image fully now, her smile fading into a look of confusion that mirrored his own. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his throat. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. The hand was attached to a body that was not his own, not anymore. The last thing he remembered was lying on a cold hospital table, surrounded by a team of doctors in sterile white coats, their faces a blur of masks and stern expressions. They had promised him a chance, a way to escape the clutches of death, but he had never truly considered what it would mean.
The girl's grip tightened slightly, pulling him back to the present. "Are you okay?" the nurse asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
Marcus nodded, his thoughts racing. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a strangled sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again, his voice a whisper. "I'm... I'm just a little overwhelmed."
Her eyes searched his, looking for understanding, for any sign that he was okay. He gave her a small nod, trying to reassure her. "I just need some time to... adjust."
The nurse's expression softened. "Of course," she said, patting his hand. "It's a lot to take in. But you're going to be fine. You're going to have a whole new life now."
Marcus looked around the hospital room, taking in the unfamiliar sights and sounds. The beeping machines, the antiseptic smell, the feel of the starched sheets against his skin. It was all so alien to him. But what was most alien was the reflection in the mirror. The girl's body, his body now, was laid out before him, a perfect shell that housed his consciousness. He reached up with the girl's hand, feeling the softness of her hair against his palm. It was long and silky, a stark contrast to the short, messy mop he'd had before.