Turn 13 of 19

Vocabulary shifts further. Full sentences come out in thick Atlanta slang before she can stop them. She covers her mouth, eyes wide. Taylor asks questions; answers sound pure ghetto. Mannerisms and posture already locked in. Jess is still inside but losing the wheel.

Jess stared at her reflection in the mirror—thick curves, deep brown skin, full lips, long nails, long lashes, heavy makeup melted into her skin. The red stilettos felt perfectly natural on her feet now.

She turned to Taylor, trying to explain, but the words that came out weren't hers.

"I been walkin' like this for hours, baby, and I ain't even tired," she said, gesturing at her perfect heel-sway. She clamped her mouth shut, horrified.

"I didn't—I don't—"

She tried again, forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

"I don't talk like that. I'm not—" But what slipped out instead was "I been tryin' to speak prop'ly, but it just don't feel nat'ral no more."

Taylor stared at her, his eyes wide. "Jess. What. Is happening. To you?" he said slowly, deliberately.

Jess shook her head frantically, backing away until she hit the edge of the bed. She sank down onto it, the cheap mattress sagging under her new weight. But even sitting, her body betrayed her—she crossed her legs slowly, deliberately, one red stiletto swinging slightly. Her back arched without her thinking about it. Her tilting hips seemed to pull attention to the round curve of her ass against the stained comforter.

"I don't know," she said softly, running a hand over her thick hip, her round ass in the tight snakeskin skirt. "I don't know. But I... I think I'm losing her. I think she's almost gone."

And for a moment, the woman in the mirror smiled—a slow, sharp, triumphant smile that didn't look like Jess at all.

"Girl, you trippin'," Jess heard herself say to Taylor's questions. "Ain't nothin' wrong with me."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with panic. But it was too late—the words were out, thick with Atlanta slang, dripping with an attitude that wasn't hers. Not yet.

"What the fuck?" she mumbled behind her hand.

"What did you say?" Taylor asked.

Jess took her hand away from her mouth slowly.

"I said... I'm fine," she said, but the words came out as "I sayin' I'm good, baby."

"Jesus Christ, Jess," Taylor breathed. "You sound just like her."

Jess looked in the mirror again. The woman staring back looked more like Sharonda every second—thick, dark-skinned, heavy breasts straining against the red top, round ass filling out the snakeskin skirt. Full lips parted slightly. Long lashes fluttered.

"I... I'm still in here," Jess whispered, but the reflection just smiled, slow and sure and not at all afraid.

"Ain't no 'I',