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Foxy Loxy had never been a typical girl, she knew that and truly didn't care. She was messy, never afraid to play in the mud or get rough with the boys. Growing up she played sports, never even so much as looked at dolls. Foxy was crude, prideful, intense, competitive and never stopped to care about the opinions of others. Most girls didn't bother to stand out in such an aggressive manner, aside from Abby and her best friend it felt like all girls wanted to be this perfect representation of femininity. Demure, sweet, always wearing frilly dresses, which while she certainly didn't get...more power to them.
She just wasn't like that though. And she liked herself. Even ignoring her ego, it was fun to just be who she was. It was fun to play baseball, it was fun to be active, fun to be messy and fun to have the typical school yard teasing..even if it meant others got hurt in the process. Looking back she was fully aware that she had been a little mean, maybe just outright cruel at times. But she never meant any real harm, really, she didn't. If someone had sat her down and told her that her words weren't just hurtful but had long lasting damage she'd reconsider her actions immediately. Really, she would. She was never evil, she never thought of herself like that. Despite her faults she was a good person, she kept repeating that to herself even as her hands moved on their own accords.
It was so strange, her hands were just moving. Doing things she couldn't fully comprehend or attempt to stop, adding a bit of blush on her cheeks. An extra layer of lipstick. More bright blue to her eye shadow to make her eyes pop and it was all so strange. Foxy didn't like makeup, why was she putting it on? Let alone this much of it? She looked ridiculous. Especially with these clothes and her hair, neither belonged to her. The last time she could remember willingly wearing such a skirt was when she was a very young child, but even those memories didn't feel entirely there.
What was happening? Why was she doing this? She didn't like this....who was this? This wasn't her? Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she do something?
"Foxy?" a voice called out, one that was annoying and instantly recognizable to anyone that had the misfortune of meeting Runt. "Are you ready to go yet?"
Right, she had a date but wait....she didn't date. Foxy never had any interest in anyone, especially not boys. Romance and the such just never really appeared to her, but also....Runt? Foxy was narrow minded, she was aware of that. At least, she was aware of that right now. She dismissed him several times in the past, he was fat, dorky, and had no back bone therefore easy to pick on. Foxy could acknowledge that he was a decent guy deep, but even then she never had any interest in being his friend, let alone going on a date. The very idea both made her want to gag while also laughing.
"Just a minute!" Foxy yelled back to him, it sounded like her voice. But...she didn't say that. She didn't want to say that. For a brief moment it was like she gained some control of herself, as she just stood there for a good moment. Forcing her mind to remember the event leading up this...everything had been normal but then....something attacked the town. Right? That sounded right, felt right but the details were all fuzzy. It certainly didn't explain why she was dressed so differently, going on a date and then....what happened to her room? Foxy was never one for any type of decor, aside from a few posters and if you were being generous in counting the dirty clothes littering her room. But now....the wallpapers were all brightly colored with tacky patterns, the entire place looking so clean, things perfectly organized, stuffed animals filling up her bed, most of them bears holding hearts.
Her posters were gone, all the sports gear she had was also gone, this wasn't her room but....it had to be. It was her house, wasn't it? Why would she be anywhere else? But if this was her room...it couldn't change so drastically in a few hours or even a few days but....that thing that attacked the town...that had only been a few hours ago hadn't it? How much time has passed? And why couldn't she remember any of it? Something stirred wildly in her chest, she wanted to jump up and scream. Break everything in this ugly pastel colored room, throw that door off its hinges then demand answers from Runt. But she couldn't.
The most she could do was stop her actions for a brief period and look around, even looking back to the vanity mirror (one she most certainly hadn't owned previously). Her face hurt, for some reason she couldn't stop smiling. It felt like she had been doing so forever, it irked her in a way she couldn't fully comprehend. Maybe it was because she wanted to do literally anything else, to frown, grimace, or anything other than smile. She couldn't control her own body, not even how she expressed the most basic of her emotions. This wasn't her, she wasn't doing this, she would never do any of this, what was happening?
Her hands moved again, grabbing a perfume bottle to give herself a few squirts. Then she stood up, humming some song that she didn't know but must have heard at one point, then gently picking up her purse before turning to face the door. To her date. With Runt. A date she didn't want to go on, a date she would never in a million years ever say yes to, but a date that was happening. One that she was going on with a smile.
"Sorry about the wait, sweetie!" Foxy said chipperly, as she opened the door. Internally a part of her cringed at those words daring to ever come out of her mouth. Her body continued to move against her will as she did a cutesy pose for her date, "How do I look?"
Awful. Was the answer that Foxy gave herself, she hated this dress. She hated this hair. This stupid makeup felt awful making her basically a clown. Foxy, the real Foxy, would never ask such a question to begin with even if she had bothered to go on a date with someone. Foxy wore what she liked, what suited her and her date would have to deal with it. She would never ask that. This was not her. Why were they doing this? What was this happening?
"Perfect!" Runt replied, sounding genuine. Because of course he would like this type of get up. Foxy had never been shy or bashful but how she wanted to hide from his gaze right now, she hated how he looked at her. To her it didn't feel like he was looking at a girl he was going on a date with or that he was truly smitten. He looked at her more how a boy looks at a new toy that he's been bought, like she was an object made to specifically appeal to him. "Oh, this is gonna be so much fun. My ma and pa have really been looking forward to officially meeting you ya know, I just know you're gonna make a great impression."
Meeting his parents? That wasn't normally something anyone did for a first date, wasn't usually something you did for a second, third or fourth date either. Was this just Runt being weird? Likely, but there was a growing sense of dread. An extra layer of anxiety that kept building up the more she forced herself to think about it, but it was so hard to keep thinking about it. As cowardly as it sounded, it was scary to think of. The gaps in her memory were frightening, the fact the memories she did have were harder to remember even more so. The general situation? It was tempting to attempt to ignore everything, to just go along with it and just let everything happen but she didn't want that.
She had goals, she had dreams, she had friends, she had family for crying out loud. Surely they were doing something? This wasn't Foxy, anyone from a mile away could see that. They wouldn't let this happen, surely someone out there was doing something. Mom and Dad loved her, they wouldn't just stand by while this went on. Goosey would rage a fit at this injustice without a doubt. Perhaps this was temporary, didn't mean she liked it any better.
Runt continued to talk, not waiting for her input. He locked arms with her, gently leading her away as she followed. Foxy continued not to listen, dwelling over everything. This. Was. Not. Her. But...her room...her appearance...her....was Runt her boyfriend? The last possible man she would ever pick, she was dating. It was frightening, even if this only happened over the course of a few days, those were a few days that she didn't remember. Anything could have happened in that time period, and it scared her. She looked at Runt, grateful she could do this much at least even if she was still screaming at herself to do more. To stop this. Begging to anything that would hear her to stop this.
Ever the blabber mouth, the pig was still talking. Not even talking with her as much as he was talking at her, much like how a child talks to his doll knowing it can't answer. Runt was a good buy, at least Foxy thought that he was. Yet it didn't seem like her cared about her at all, hell from what she can remember he certainly never seemed interested in her before. Even not accounting for her teasing, Runt just didn't seem to like her or find her all that pretty unlike the other girls in their grade, which was fine. He didn't need to, but now...when she was different, oh so different he wanted her to meet his parents? He had to know this wasn't her true self, that she would never act like this, he had to. Then came the scary thought that this was all due to him somehow.
Did he...do this to her? Force her into these clothes, change her room, get all those stupid plushies, make her forget what happened, changed her on a deep mental level that she couldn't recover from? And why would he do it? So he could have a girlfriend? Or rather, so he could have a toy to play with? Anger grew her heart, but as quickly as it formed it was gone. Because she couldn't do anything. She couldn't do anything. Would she even remember anything? She didn't even really want to be able to recall the events unfolding, she had never officially been close to any of Runt's family but they were all a big handful. Unpleasant to be around. And she couldn't do anything.
"Sounds nice." Foxy said one he stopped talking, the response seemed to satisfy him as they officially left the house. Runt opened the door for her like a gentleman, they instantly went back to linking arms again. Foxy was still smiling, it seemed like it actually widened a good bit as if forced to.
Her face hurt.
"Hey...you alright...? You're crying." Runt pointed out, concerned as they stopped in their tracks. Foxy was confused at first, until she noticed that indeed...a single tear had fallen. One that she wasn't even aware of until he had pointed it out, it made her want to cry more. How she yearned to simply cry, it was a childish thing to want to do. But she wanted it. But she couldn't have it. Everything felt like it was ripping her apart from the inside, Foxy felt violently ill but not in the typical way. This wasn't like catching a bad cold, it wasn't comparable to the time that she had some dastardly sickness that left her vomiting for hours straight. Foxy felt so much despair and dread that she might pass out.
"Oh...silly me. I think an eyelash got in my eye." she lied, it was obvious it was a lie. Runt didn't care. She knew that. She looked away, pretending to fix the situation, rubbing away the remaining tear. She paused for a moment, stunned as she was upset she deeply truly had been for a solid moment but for the life of her she couldn't remember why. What had she been thinking so intently about? Did it matter? They were doing something important yes?
"Uh....all good? Ma doesn't like it when company is late." he explained, Foxy simply stared at him for a moment before nodding.
"I'm fine," saying those words made her feel like crying again but she fought it off. "Lead the way, my dear."
She would never say that. Why did she say that? Who was this? Who was she? Did it matter?