The Only Goat Girl

The experiments didn’t hurt, usually.

They were more psychological than anything else. I know I’m still fucked up from some of it, but I’ve learned how to deal with the memories. For example, I always panic when I see a butterfly, but I know how to calm myself down right away. I take a slow, deep breath in, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly exhale. Then I pause when I feel empty, and repeat. I do this until my heart slows to normal, and the shaking subsides.

I don’t remember what the butterfly experiment was, but I’m sure it wasn’t great. Still, logically, I know no butterfly is going to eat me.

Logic can only provide so much comfort, of course. I know a bunch of things are true, logically. They basically fed me logic along with fortified goat milk (before they realized I’d be better off with human milk). They really did hope I’d have more goat traits, but genetics research is a funny thing. My mom says that no matter how much you try to control for variables, you do end up with surprises.

Like me. I was a surprise. They didn’t think I’d live, especially since the earlier attempts had been disastrous.

But I survived.