AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have become aware of an indie film in production written and directed by Nacho Vigolando, and starring Anne Hathaway, titled Colossal. The basic premise of the film is very similar to this story, as you will find. Let it be said, however, that I started writing this story long before I ever knew Vigolando's project even existed; I would claim copyright infringement, except that this is a fan work, and Godzilla certainly doesn't belong to me, as we're all aware. My point in writing this is to let you know that this, aside from the basic premise, has nothing to do with Colossal, and is it's own independent work.

The woman who became my mother gave me the name of Tanya when I was adopted, but every now and then she would call me Tan, and I came to prefer that name, making sure others knew me by it. What the woman who gave birth to me referred to me as other than daughter, I don't know. I've never met her. I don't suspect I ever will, either.

But that doesn't matter in this small blue motel pool. Here, I am completely calm and soothed by the lights up above whipping around on the concrete bottom, the heavy rumbling in my ears, my black hair fluttering with the current…I'll have to come up for air soon, of course, but that's not for a while. For now, I sit here at the bottom of the pool, letting my worries and cares float away in the waves. The thought of the vast majority of the world lying in ruins flees away. The memory of natural abominations waging war on humankind fades away. Even the resentment towards my birth mother is shut away into a small, unassuming corner. This is my domain, my space, my retreat, my place of Zen…if only I could listen to some Yoga music down here. Then my paradise would be complete.

It's strange how water is my haven; while most children are scared to go into the deep end of the pool, I wasn't. In fact, whenever I saw a vast body of water, the only thing that would stop me was my father, who would warn me that the lake monsters would come and devour me, acting out the scene with clawed fingers and arms scissoring back and forth.

Oh, the irony.

But right now, nothing can get to me …I feel so soothed by the gentle caresses of the water, I might as well fall asleep right then and there…

But then I hear muffled voices, followed by something like a soft boom in the water, shaking me out of my serenity. I look up to see a plume of bubbles streaming in from the surface, and coming straight towards me.

Something grabs me with thick, hairy arms! They seize me by the torso and lift me up, their strength catching me by surprise, holding me fast and refusing to let me break free. The sudden terror bursts the air out of my lungs, and icy fear begins to spread as my captor drags me up. I break through the surface, and I gasp to let fresh air into my lungs while spitting out the chlorinated liquid trying to force its way in.

I blink my eyes into focus. Across from me is the face of a middle-aged man, sparse grey hair draped across his brow like dead branches upon a dome, while the pool-water races past his dread-laden eyes in miniature torrents.

"Kid, are you alright?" he asks.

I push away from him. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" I shout as I lash my limbs through the water towards the steel ladder.

He follows close behind as I climb up out of the water, saying, "Well excuse me for saving your life, little missy!"

I look over to him and I see that he's been wearing both his shirt and jeans the whole time, all of it drenched in pool-water that runs down in torrents onto the concrete. The poor man, he was just trying to help! What was wrong with me?

"I wasn't drowning," I explain, trying to vent out the anger in my system, "I was just sitting there." A soft wind blows, and I shudder against the exaggerated cold against my bare skin, suddenly feeling very naked and exposed. I walk over to my pile of clothing, grab my towel, and start to rub off the water and along with it my ire and frustration. The heat generated from the friction helps, too.

"How was I supposed to know?" he asks, "You know you're not supposed to swim alone, even if it is the end of the world."

Protest begins to rise within me, only to be quelled by humiliation. Yeesh, he's right, I realize. How long had I been down there, anyway? It felt like an eternity; I really could have run out of oxygen and if he wasn't there I might as well have drowned. I really should apologize for my actions and…no, how DARE he disturb me! How dare he try to tell me what to do and how to behave, as if I was a child!

"Listen," the man says, "is there anything I can get you?"

I barely hear him; all I can respond with is a small growl in my throat. All I can dwell on is how he yanked me out of my meditation, quite possibly removing me from nirvana. My skin begins to burn like the rage inside of me as I rub my towel harder and harder. He deserved to be punished; I should pull his arms out of his sockets, throw him to the ground and turn his face into charcoal…

Through the corner of my eye, I can see him reaching out his hand…that cruel, rough, undeserving hand. "It's almost sunrise, maybe I can get you an early breakfast…"

I reel around and swat his hand away. "Don't touch me!" I yell.

He jumps back at my outburst. "Fine, sheesh!" he snaps back, and turns to walk away, shivering in the chilling air. The last words I hear as he walks through the pool gate consist of, "Ungrateful little…"

I watch as he turns a corner and disappears out of my life, but the wrath in me takes a long time to dissipate until calm returns and eats it away. Then, reason comes to me.

What on earth was that? I ask myself. All that man had done was try to help me, and I was ready to tear him limb from limb! Was I PMSing? I hope not. No, this was more like bipolar disorder…some strange, freaky, murderous form of bipolar disorder. I shrink at the thought of what might have happened if he had stayed around longer…was I really capable of killing, no, destroying a man?

I resumed drying myself off again, and as soon as my towel had soaked up enough water, I slipped my street clothes over my swimwear again. I look up to see the sky beginning to change its shade, the planets and stars beginning to dim with the growling light. When had I entered the pool, and how long had I been in there? Apparently long enough for some random guy to come along and think I had drowned.

I had done enough zoning out for one night. Maybe I was ready to talk to Sam this time…or maybe not, given that surge of emotion. No, I've got to talk to him sooner or later; fate might not be so lenient.

Climbing up and over the wall again, I make my way back to the camp in the city park. No one as of yet comes in my way, thank goodness, but as I come near the borders, I can see the soldiers in their jeeps, standing guard. For some reason, anxiety wriggles around inside of me, but there is no reason for it; I was no trespasser, for there was no such thing, and those large guns they were carrying weren't for people. They pay no attention to me as I enter the campground; they must have thought I was a visitor or something. Where once the place had been totally empty, now there's at least a few people here and there, either stoking fires in their grills or simply settling in for the breakfast line. Every now and then I hear voices coming over the radio or the television: "…military forces are busy evacuating as many civilians as they can in Dallas before the arrival of Kaiju Entropy, but given the speed at which the creature is moving, there's a very small chance of a survival percentage greater than thirty percent. Meanwhile, Johannesburg is in week two, day five of its attack by Kaiju Desiccation, and Seattle is in week three, day two of attack by Kaiju Strikeout. While officials are still waiting to give the green light for rescue parties in Johannesburg, militias are still being organized in the areas surrounding Seattle to rescue civilians, in spite of Kaiju Strikeout's continued presence in the city and current military attempts to bring the creature down. Meanwhile, Kaiju Apathy has been spotted approaching Rome after its landfall and attack on Naples; authorities are currently working to evacuate the Papacy…"

Seattle...That was three hours from here by car. Three hours away from here, everything I ever knew was being smashed to powder and ashes. But what could I do about it?

I approach the door to our canvas tent, but I tread carefully. Sam's probably still asleep in there; maybe I can slip inside without waking him up. I reach down, grab the golden zipper tag, and cautiously pull it upwards…but then it slips out of my fingers and slides upwards on its own. The flaps part, and I find myself looking into a pair of hazel eyes set within a strong, angular face topped with long, swept back brown hair that, while dulled by the fact of several hours' worth of sleep, still look at me with a sense of expectancy.

"Hey, Tan," he says.

"Morning, Sam," I say, my voice heightened by the surprise.

He manages to peck me on the cheek with his lips as I walk inside the dark tent, lit only by the beam of a flashlight that illuminated our two sleeping bags, and the two duffle bags that held our belongings. I can feel his eyes following me. "You smell like chlorine," he observes, "Have you been out swimming?"

"Yeah," I admit casually, "I just needed some time to think."

"And you didn't invite me why?" he asks, smiling.

"I didn't want to wake you up," I say as I toss my wet towel over a rope hanging from the top of the tent.

Enough of the casual talk, I think to myself. It's time you had a serious discussion.

I turn around to face him. "Sam," I say to him, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Absolutely," he says, and we both sit down across from each other on our sleeping bags. There is a moment of silence before I gather the courage to speak—but Sam beats me to the punch. "Can I go first?" he asks.

"Um…sure," I reply, though unsure of what he has to say.

Before he speaks, he clears his throat, probably preparing some long-winded speech or something. But maybe, just maybe, he's been thinking the same thing that I've been thinking…is there a certain something that he was hiding in his pocket for me? Granted, a tent in a refugee camp isn't exactly the most romantic of places to pop the question, but a girl can dream, can't she?

What he had to say comes faster than I had expected. "Listen, you know they've been recruiting for people to go back to Seattle…"

No. That's not what I wanted to hear at all.

"…And they're running pretty low on men to go with them. So, I just need to know if it's okay with you if I go and join one of the rescue militias."

My answer comes faster than he probably expected. "No," I say, the refusal bursting out of my mouth, "It's not okay at all."

"Tan," he says, rising to his feet, "I know you don't like it, but there are people who need help in there. We're lucky to get out of there, but we can't leave anyone behind…"

I rise to my feet in response. "Sam Brody, this isn't about them. You're just trying to find an excuse to go Captain Ahab on that thing!"

"I won't be actually fighting the monster, I promise," he argues, "Besides, they wouldn't let us confront it anyway. I'll be back in less than a day, there's no need to worry…"

"No need to worry? Sam, I've heard about the other things that came with it. You'll be walking into a warzone, giant monster or no giant monster."

"Tan, you don't need to worry about me."

"Don't need to worry about you? I have every right to be worried; I don't want to be one of those girls who get a letter telling them their man has been slaughtered!"

"At least I'll die making a difference!" Sam responds.

"What good would you do?" I ask, "Seattle's as good as gone! Everywhere is as good as gone! All you'd be doing is prolonging the inevitable!"

His gaze averts away from mine. Perhaps I've been throwing the wrong curve at him. I grasp his big, strong hands in my small, soft ones, eliciting a slight upward tilt of his head.

"Sam," I whisper, "I don't want to lose you. Stay with me. It doesn't matter if we have to keep running our whole lives; we can adapt. I want you to be with me."

He looks up at me again. "Tan," he whispers, "…I just can't. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't' try. I just…" he pauses, "I'm sorry."

I can't believe this is happening. After all we've been through, after all the hell unleashed upon us…I feel my grasp slipping. He is so set on going…but I can't lose him. Not now, not after losing so many others in my life…

But then I feel a fire rising from within me. Why does he have to be so stubborn? Why does he need to throw his life away?

"You know what?" I say, pulling my hands back, "Fine. Go ahead. Throw yourself to the lions and leave me for all I care. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

"Look, I know you're upset, but…" he starts.

I interrupt him, storming my way out of the tent. "But what? You feel like you wouldn't be like your old man if you didn't go monster hunting?"

"What? No!" he says, following after me into the early morning light, "Tan, I just…"

"You just WHAT?" I yell, "Do you think this will get your Mom back from the dead? Well let me tell you something, Sam, it WON'T. That's just life. Suck it up! She's gone, and she's not coming back! I don't care how many kaiju you go after, it's not going to change anything for anyone!" In that moment, I plant my hands against his chest and shove, pushing him back a foot or two. There's something inhumanely satisfying about that…

"Tan, what the heck is wrong with you?" he shouts.

In a brief moment of clarity, I realize what he's talking about. What IS wrong with me? I don't know, I want to say to him. I don't understand the words I'm saying. These aren't things I would let myself say to him of all people, so why am I saying these things?

Then, the fire rises. He doesn't understand; he doesn't get it! He's too stupid to see the reality before him! So much anger runs through me, anger that wants to be let out. All I want is to hurt something, to gouge out eyes, to rip out something's throat in my teeth…

What sort of horrible creature have I become?

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my head. It bursts like a firework, and I find myself blinded by it. I lose control of my legs, and gravity pulls me down to the ground, but Sam's tough arms catch me. My breathing becomes faster and harder. I can't think and I can't speak. All that comes out of my mouth is incoherence.

"Tan, honey, baby, stay with me!" Sam says, then turns and yells, "Medic! Someone get a medic! I think she's having a seizure!"

I begin to drift; the world begins to blur. I can't tell Sam's form from the trunks of the trees surrounding us. The agony only rises in response to my pleas for mercy.

Out of everything, I hear a voice calling out somewhere, "Hey, everybody! You'll never believe this! He's back! Godzilla's back! He's coming down the bay towards Seattle…"

After that, I hear nothing…nothing except a deafening animal scream that echoes in my mind before everything turns dark.