I woke up, and I had swapped bodies with my dog. Tomorrow was the day I was supposed to take her to be euthanized. But now... My dog—no, my owner—is staring at me through the glass door, her face twisted in a snarl that looks horrifyingly human. She pushes the door open, step by step, walking toward me with madness in her eyes. I see it clearly now. The butcher knife she’s hiding behind her back. She’s going to kill me. 1 Abby is a four-year-old Beagle. When I found her, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. A purebred dog, just wandering the streets? Finders keepers. I hid her in my jacket and ran home, thinking I was lucky. I didn't know it was the start of a nightmare. The moment we got home, Abby revealed her true form: a demon from the seventh circle of hell. She destroyed my furniture. She screamed like a banshee at 3 AM. She used my Persian rug as a toilet. She was essentially a long-eared donkey with a destruction fetish. I questioned my life choices daily. Why did I have to be so greedy? Cheap things come at a high price. Despite the ruined couch and the noise complaints from the HOA, I stuck to my principles. I adopted her, so I was responsible for her. I cleaned up her messes, paid for the damages, and told myself that with enough love and patience, she would change. Until she bit the first person. Then the second. Then the third. I had to swallow my pride and go door-to-door, apologizing, bowing, begging for forgiveness. I was terrified someone would lose their temper and beat her to death. But what made me angrier was Abby’s attitude. She pranced around like she owned the place, looking at me with eyes that said, “What are you gonna do about it, loser?” My heart grew cold. I knew I couldn't fix her. I contacted a famous dog trainer in the state, a guy known for handling "red zone" cases. I sent Abby to his boot camp. It was her last chance. If she didn't change, the neighbors would force me to put her down. For months, I only saw Abby through video calls. The trainer was brutal. In the videos, Abby’s fur was matted with dried blood. One of her teeth had been snapped off by the chain. She was pinned under the trainer’s boot, foaming at the mouth, struggling, screaming. She refused to submit. My baby, whom I had fed by hand, was being broken. My eyes burned. I almost said, “Stop, send her home.” The trainer saw my hesitation. He spat on the ground. "She’s a beast, ma'am. You have to show her who the master is, or she’ll never learn. Don't worry, she won't die." He moved the camera closer to Abby’s face. The misery was magnified. I couldn't look. "Abby, be good, and your mom will come get you." Suddenly, Abby looked straight into the camera lens. I swear, she was looking right at me. That look... it was pure hatred. 2 Three months later, the trainer brought Abby back. He also gave me a "gift"—a set of heavy chains and iron rods, much larger than anything I had. I was horrified. But to my surprise, Abby had changed. If the old Abby was a demon, this Abby was an angel. I would have settled for "doesn't bite," but she was doing tricks! "Sit," "Shake," "Stay"—things I had spent months failing to teach her. It was a miracle. I was ready to nominate the trainer for sainthood. Abby was quiet. No more parkour at midnight. No more noise complaints. She didn't resource guard anymore. She wouldn't snap at me when I filled her bowl. Even though I still had to walk her at 3 AM to avoid the neighbors, I was moved to tears. This was it. Life was finally good. I started to relax. I took off the heavy chain. I let her roam the house freely. I thought, She’s a good dog now. I should trust her. And Abby repaid that trust by destroying my life. One morning, while I was taking out the trash, Abby slipped through the crack in the door. She ran straight into the neighbor’s little granddaughter in the hallway. When I got off the elevator, I saw a scene from a horror movie. Abby was on top of the little girl, her jaws locked onto the child’s scalp. I could see the white of the skull where the skin had been torn away. Blood was everywhere. "Help... help me..." The girl was sobbing, her voice fading. She looked at me with desperate eyes. Abby growled, her teeth dripping red. She looked at me with pure provocation. Then she yanked her head back. A piece of the girl's scalp tore off with a sickening sound. "AHHH!" The girl screamed and passed out. I threw myself at Abby. She turned on me instantly. She bit my arm, her canines sinking deep, almost piercing through to the other side. Adrenaline flooded my system. I grabbed Abby by the throat, my fingers digging into her loose skin. I squeezed with everything I had. My nails cut into her flesh. Abby’s eyes rolled back. She was choking. 3 The neighbor heard the noise and rushed out, pulling us apart. I didn't have time to explain. I pointed at the unconscious girl. "Call 911! Now!" In the chaos, Abby slipped away down the stairwell. I was too panicked to chase her. I rode in the ambulance with the girl. By the time I remembered Abby, it was too late. I called the police and animal control. Thankfully, the girl survived. But the guilt was eating me alive. It was my fault. I brought Abby home. I kept her. I was naive enough to think she could change. She never changed. She just learned to act. She had been waiting for this moment to hurt me. Her teeth were meant for my throat. The neighbor’s girl was just collateral damage. "Ms. Lane," the girl's mother said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "We appreciate you saving her. But we cannot allow that dog to live in this building. We are pressing charges." "I understand. I’ll cooperate." I gave up. A beast is a beast. My mercy was a mistake. "I will pay for all the medical bills and the plastic surgery. I am so, so sorry." The woman nodded and walked away. After getting my rabies shot, I went to the police station. They had caught Abby. She was in a cage, barking maniacally at the officers, foam and blood dripping from her mouth. She looked like a rabid monster. When she saw me, she stopped. She lowered her body, a low growl rumbling in her chest. Her tail was tucked, but her eyes were locked on me. Attack mode. The officer yanked her chain and kicked the cage. "Ms. Lane, do you want us to handle this?" I sighed, shaking my head. "I've caused enough trouble. I've already scheduled the euthanasia for tomorrow. Since I failed her as an owner, I should be the one to send her off." It was the last dignity I could give her. "Heh-heh-heh!" Abby made a strange, chortling sound. It sounded like she was laughing at my stupidity. 4 I shouldn't have been soft. I took Abby home and locked her on the balcony. Tomorrow, we would go to the vet. But the next morning, when I opened my eyes, I was lying on the balcony floor. Everything looked huge. The railing, the plants, the door. My body felt wrong. I ran to the glass door and looked at my reflection. A Beagle stared back at me. I was my dog! This had to be a dream. But the cold tile under my paws felt too real. Click. The balcony door unlocked. "I" walked out. The human "me" was smiling—a twisted, wrong smile. Her eyes were full of excitement. I backed away, my legs trembling. We had swapped bodies. "Abby, time to go to the hospital." The human crouched down slowly, extending a hand. Her expression shifted into something crazed. In the reflection of the glass, I saw what she was holding behind her back. A butcher knife. She was going to kill me! I ducked under her legs and sprinted for the front door. My only thought: Run! The door was locked. The human "Abby" jingled the keys in her hand. "You can't run." She lunged at me. She wasn't moving like a human anymore. She was crawling on all fours, scrambling across the floor like a spider, knife raised high. It was worse than any horror movie. She swung the knife down at my head. I dodged instinctively. THUNK. The knife buried itself in the wooden door. She couldn't pull it out. She looked around the room, grinning, and grabbed the iron rod I had hidden behind the sofa. The one the trainer gave me. She knew it was there. She walked toward me, swinging the rod wildly. The living room was being destroyed. I was cornered. She was going to kill me. She hated me. The front door was a dead end. I looked at the balcony. The sliding door was still open. I lived on the eighth floor. But I had no choice. I bit her leg hard. While she screamed, I bolted to the balcony, jumped onto a planter, and leaped over the railing. Weightlessness. Then—CRASH. I hit something hard. I looked up. The human "Abby" was looking down from the balcony, glaring with pure malice. She was coming down. I had to move. I tried to stand, but a net fell over me.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "390774", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel