Anyway here's chapter six with seven to follow in a little while.

CHAPTER SIX

Riley’s eyes flutter open as pale sunlight slips through the gap in her curtains and spreads across the ceiling.

For a few seconds she just lies there, half-awake, her brain still foggy with sleep while the quiet morning settles around her. The house is silent except for the faint creak of pipes somewhere in the walls and the distant hum of traffic outside.

She stretches slowly.

Her arms lift over her head and her back arches against the mattress while she yawns, the movement automatic and comfortable in the way mornings usually are.

Then the chill hits her.

The sheets are thin and cool against her skin, and without the usual pile of blankets her body had nothing holding in the warmth she’d built up during the night. Goosebumps ripple across her arms as the cool air of the room settles over her.

Riley blinks and turns her head.

Her wrist lifts slightly into the light.

The watch glows red.

Memory returns all at once.

“Oh yeah,” she says aloud, her voice still rough with sleep.

“Meatgirl.”

She drops her arm back onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling for a moment, letting the word sit there while her brain catches up with the reality of the day.

The cool air of the room settles over Riley’s skin as she rolls onto her side.

Without blankets the bed feels strangely exposed, the thin sheet beneath her doing nothing to trap warmth the way her usual pile of covers would have. The mattress holds a little heat from where she had been sleeping, but the moment she shifts away from that spot the chill returns.

She pushes herself upright with a groggy yawn.

For a moment she moves automatically, her body following the same routine it has followed every weekday morning for years. Riley swings her legs off the side of the bed and stands up, rubbing her eyes while she prepares to go through the motions of getting ready.

Uniform.

Brush hair.

Grab bag.

The steps line up in her mind out of habit.

Then she stops halfway across the room.

“Oh.”

The thought lands slowly.

She doesn’t go to school anymore.

Animals don’t go to school.

Riley stands there for a second while that sinks in, the quiet of the room pressing around her.

“Well,” she mutters.

“That’s weird.”

She turns around and climbs right back onto the bed.

Without blankets the mattress feels colder now, but Riley doesn’t care enough to fix that. She stretches out on her back and glances again at the red watch glowing faintly on her wrist.

Her alarm hadn’t gone off.

Normally the watch would have been beeping by now, flashing through its usual colors while reminding her she was late.

Today it had stayed silent.

Like the moment it turned red it simply decided she didn’t need to wake up early anymore.

Riley snorts softly.

“The System’s encouraging me to be lazy,” she murmurs.

With nothing else demanding her attention, she rolls onto her side again and closes her eyes.

If she’s not going to school, she might as well sleep a little longer.

But her mind refuses to settle.

Riley lies there for a minute, eyes closed, trying to drift back into sleep. The mattress is still cool against her back and the room has that quiet, early-morning stillness that usually makes it easy to doze off again.

Today it doesn’t work.

Her brain feels awake in a way the rest of her body doesn’t. Thoughts circle slowly, tugging at the edges of her attention until she finally lets out a long, annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she mutters.

Riley rolls onto her back and reaches across the bed for her phone. The screen lights up when she taps it, bright enough that she squints slightly while it wakes.

Her browser is still open from the night before.

The page loads instantly.

The image fills the screen again.

The blonde Meatgirl lying on the metal table.

For a second Riley just stares at it.

The girl’s body is completely still, her arms resting loosely at her sides while the bright lights of the processing room wash everything in sterile white. Her hair has been brushed neatly away from her face like someone wanted the picture to look calm.

Asleep or dead.

It’s hard to tell.

Maybe it isn’t supposed to matter.

Standing beside the table is the Butcher from the earlier photographs. The tall woman with white hair and pale eyes watches the girl with the same neutral expression she had in every other image.

No anger.

No kindness.

Just professional attention.

Like the child on the table is a job that has been completed correctly.

Riley swallows.

Her stomach tightens again, though not as violently as yesterday.

She keeps staring at the image anyway.

Without realising her hand had made its way down her stomach and between her open legs. She caught herself. She wasn’t going to masturbate over a dead body.

Riley keeps staring at the image.

Yesterday it had made her panic. The sight of the girl on the table, the sterile lights, the quiet presence of the butcher standing beside her. It had all hit at once and sent her running to the bathroom.

Now it feels different.

Her chest doesn’t tighten.

Her stomach doesn’t twist.

She just lies there on the mattress with the phone resting above her face, studying the picture like she’s trying to memorize it.

The girl looks peaceful.

That’s the strangest part.

Her body isn’t tense or twisted. Her face isn’t frightened. She looks like someone who drifted off during a long car ride and never woke up again. The room around her is clean and bright, the kind of place that feels more like a hospital than anything violent.

The butcher stands nearby, watching the table with that same neutral expression.

Not cruel.

Not kind.

Just… present.

Riley realizes something slowly while she keeps looking.

She doesn’t feel anything.

Not for the girl.

Not for the butcher.

The horror she expected just isn’t there this morning.

Instead there’s a strange, restless energy sitting somewhere in her chest. It isn’t happiness exactly, but it isn’t dread either. It feels closer to the nervous excitement she used to get before a big school event or a roller coaster she’d never ridden before.

The thought slips into her head before she can stop it.

That’s going to be me.

Another girl on a table.

Another body under those lights.

Riley exhales slowly through her nose and lowers the phone slightly, letting the image slide down the screen while she continues staring at it.

“Yeah,” she murmurs quietly to herself.

“That’ll be me.”

The arousal is strangely gone thanks to the finality of her thoughts.

Over breakfast Riley pulls out her phone and opens the school app.

She already knows she isn’t going back. Everyone knows that once the watch turns red, school is over. Still, curiosity nags at her while the app loads. She wants to see if anyone posted about her in the class boards or if Amanda had said something in the group chat.

The loading circle spins for a moment.

Then the screen flashes.

Red.

Not the bright, friendly red used for school announcements or holiday banners. This one is darker, flat, the same tone that glows from the watch on her wrist.

Riley blinks at it.

Text appears in the center of the screen.

User has been removed from Student Registry.$Cause: Animal Conversion.

More text slides into place underneath.

You may not access this message board.

Her thumb hovers uselessly over the screen while she reads.

Another line appears.

Animals do not go to school.

Riley stares at the message for a second longer.

Then a quiet laugh escapes her before she can stop it.

Not a happy laugh.

Just one of those short, disbelieving bursts of sound that slips out when something is so blunt it almost feels like a joke.

“Well,” she mutters.

“I guess that answers that.”

“What answers what?” her dad asks.

He leans over slightly from across the table, trying to see her screen while he takes a bite of toast. Riley tilts the phone just enough that he can read the message.

His eyebrows lift.

“Oh wow, that’s cold,” he says with a short laugh. “Animals do not go to school.”

He shakes his head and leans back in his chair.

“Straight to the point, I guess.”

Riley’s mom looks up from the coffee she’s stirring.

“You okay?” she asks gently.

Riley stares at the red screen for another second before closing the app. Her thumb lingers over the icon for a moment.

Then she presses down.

The uninstall prompt pops up.

She taps delete without hesitation.

The little school icon disappears from her phone like it had never been there.

“Yeah,” Riley says, setting the phone down beside her plate.

“I’m good.”

“So what are your plans today, pet?” her mom asks as she joins them at the table.

She slides into the chair beside Riley with a fresh cup of coffee and a plate of toast. The smell of butter and jam hangs lightly in the kitchen while the quiet morning sunlight spills across the table.

“We could have a girls’ day,” she continues casually. “Go to the spa.”

Riley looks up from her own toast.

“I’ve never done that before,” she admits.

Her dad snorts quietly into his coffee.

“That’s because you’re twelve,” he says.

Her mom gives him a sideways look.

“Well she’s an Animal now,” she replies matter-of-factly. “Animals get treated.”

Riley chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“A spa sounds kind of weird,” she says after swallowing. “What do you even do there?”

“Relax,” her mom answers simply.

She reaches over and gently brushes a crumb off Riley’s shoulder before taking a sip of coffee.

“They pamper you,” she adds. “Massages, baths, skin treatments, the works.”

Riley raises an eyebrow.

“That sounds expensive.”

Her mom shrugs.

“Animals get a lot of things for free,” she says. “People like doing nice things for you.”

Her dad nods toward Riley with the end of his toast.

“Perks of the job, sweetmeat.”

Riley scrolls through local spas on her phone, the screen filling with glossy photos of steam rooms, mineral baths, and smiling clients wrapped in white towels. It only takes a few seconds before the advertisements start appearing. Several of them are clearly aimed at Animals rather than ordinary customers—basting treatments, premium hair removal, flavor enhancement programs. The wording tries to make it sound like luxury wellness, but Riley can see what they really mean.

None of them mention price anywhere obvious. If they’re targeted at Animals, there’s a good chance they aren’t free.

Still, she keeps scrolling for a moment, curiosity getting the better of her.

“What about treatments that’ll make my meat tastier?” Riley asks anyway, glancing up from the phone as she turns the screen slightly so her dad can see the ad.

Her dad leans over a little to look at it, squinting at the tiny text.

“Those work?” he asks.

Riley shrugs, flicking the screen to open the page with the ratings.

“Must do if it’s a five-star treatment,” she says. “One of their branches is only an hour from here.”

“Meat tenderising… what do you think that is?” Riley adds, tilting the phone slightly as she reads the description again.

Her dad squints at the screen, trying to make sense of the small print beneath the glossy promotional photos.

“Maybe a massage?” he suggests.

Riley taps the term and quickly pulls up the description. Her eyes move across the screen for barely a second before heat rushes into her face.

She lowers the phone slightly, cheeks turning red.

“Nope,” she says immediately, shaking her head. “Not happening.”

Her dad glances over at her reaction, frowning.

“What now?” he asks.

Riley silently tilts the phone toward him so he can read it himself.

He scans the description for a moment, and then his eyes go wide.

“Absolutely not happening.”

“Alright, I’ve booked you a basting session, hair removal, and flavour enhancement,” her mom says suddenly, like she’s announcing she’s just scheduled a dentist appointment.

Riley blinks and lowers her phone.

“How much did that cost?” she asks, eyebrows lifting. Then she squints at her mom. “And what about you?”

Her mom raises an eyebrow at that.

“What, I can’t let them make me feel tasty?”

“Honey, you’re not even in the Lottery bracket,” her dad says, smiling despite himself as he leans back in his chair. He pauses for a moment, clearly enjoying the thought before adding, “Though if you ever wanna, you know… host a BBQ?”

“Shush, you,” her mom replies, swatting the air in his direction. Then she looks back at Riley and shrugs a little.

“I’m doing it so Riley won’t have to do it alone.”