“In the middle, there was the beginning; it is only after the beginning that the starting location moved…for some. Where is the middle? Well….that is a question is it not? Ever hear of the phrase, “And the word became flesh?” that’s a good place to start, but that isn’t where the middle went. What is contained in the middle? Everything.” __ continued, “Class is not dismissed.” The bell rang loudly, and still looking forward __ paused then asked each learner and teacher, “What was imagined about that bell? Hmmm? Was it a college room with those old timey black boards and a wooden intercom or a wooden plank with a shiny bell on the wall, were students and teachers grabbing their books and pencils, jumping for a moment, some getting up some not as if stuck between the two choices, the two choices that are faced more often than we might think with more freedom than we might have been taught before, ‘should stay or should go?’. Was imagined a pair of 70s bell bottom jeans running and thereby ringing the bell of life, their feet being that which makes the noise as running on the earth, is that flare, a real ‘spin doctor’, oh right no fan fiction, those are the guidelines, but are we merely in a swimming pool with lanes or a deep and never-ending ocean? If such is the case, the ocean that is, then what sort of person would attempt to put swimming lanes in the ocean, and do swimming lanes even matter if someone chooses to swim deep like a fish, or a shark?” A child appeared, a child that has always been there perhaps not given the attention needed. This child followed the words, ‘and’ only, snaking back and forth through the letters, AND, DNA…and…dna….. and asked, “what is ‘never-ending’ but always?” Another child appeared, and reading through the words and listening to the teacher and the student speak found themselves aggrivated and filled with fustration. Was it before or after the Author lit a cigarette, only time will tell, “You’re changing tenses like crazy! There is a grammatical error here, and wait!,” the child’s voice seemed to change, “This cannot be!” grabbing a blue pen rushed to mark out words and place another word on top. The child was color blind, red blue color blind. “Who is color blined? It’s very interesting that the word chosen is ‘was’ and not ‘is’ or was ‘was’ and not ‘is’ in that moment in time. Are the bell bottoms and the ‘blue pen’ or shall we say ‘red pen’ all but one in the same. Perhaps these words were intentional and there are not any grammatical erros. Perhaps those who critize and mark such things out lack the centerfold, perhaps they do not, perehaps it was avenged, and perhaps it’s inside. What is contained in the middle? Time, mirrors, perhaps the very soul itself; but what good is a soul to the holder if the… Read more »

An Exchange with the Void
by C. Sparrow

When Emile was ten years old, he began to disappear.

At first it was just a freckle or two, losses almost too small to notice. Then, one morning he came running inside, crying and clutching his hand, and when he showed his mother how his fingernail had just vanished, leaving a blistering wound in its place, they both knew.

This was the work of the curse.

It was expected, of course. Emile knew it would happen eventually, and had spent the earliest years of his childhood wondering what kind of affliction it might bring, wishing for claws or teeth like his grandmother, or something invisible, like the inability to do math or tell a secret. His mother always assured him it would wait until he was older. It had waited for his father, and his mother, his grandparents and those before him.

It did not wait for Emile.

On his twelfth birthday, he lost a toe. The sheets splattered crimson with a bloodstain that scared him more than the disappearance. The wound, despite the evidence of violence, had healed by the time he and his mother inspected it. The skin stitched a smooth scar over the bone as if there had never been anything there at all. His mother stuffed tissues in his shoes to help him keep balance, and little else was done. What else was there to do? Their lineage was cursed, and the curse was here to stay.

Even as he continued to notice small disappearances from his body – eyelashes that never grew back, teeth vanishing overnight – they were never severe, and he learned to accept them as they came. Life without a toe and a fingernail was still life.

Then it took his hand. And Emile made a quiet decision.

No, the curse wouldn’t eat him all up entirely — it had yet to kill any of their ancestors. But this was just an assumption. And it was, after all, a curse.

Maybe he was supposed to disappear. But he didn’t want to.

And so it was that Emile sought out a demon to trade his heart.

There was a war

By Lobo Sapiens

There was a war between mankind spreading pain and madness whenever it came, it had nothing to do with us so we lived away from it, keeping the link with the forest as we always had.

But the horns of war growled, claiming us to join them, hoping to bring death upon their enemies with the power of the wolf that lays in our blood, they knew that the wolf could be summoned without the light of the moon to guide it, enough pain will make it to come out and defend their life.

The war came for us in a night full of darkness, the son of the man marched in our home with chains and cages made of silver, believing that the wolf within us will not fight without the pain, they saw us already trapped, weakened by the silver so the wolf won’t come out when the pain came, little they knew about the nature of the guardians of the forest.

The fear of seeing my children as mindless beasts fighting the war, filled my heart with a wrath that called the wolf within myself, the looks of my children haunts me until now, they cried in fear beholding the heads of the enemies falling in a sea of blood, they never saw the monster that mankind saw in us, only the guardian of nature that I taught them to be.

I would kill again for them and would love to live with them once more, but now the blessing of the wolf became a curse, darkness broke the balance, wrath corrupted the link with nature and the wolf became lost in fear and agony.

Now there is a war within myself, spreading pain and madness everywhere in my soul I can feel the wolf growling in the back of my mind, trying to claim my soul and turn me into a mindless beast.

The curse cannot become blessing again, the wrath of the beast will consume my soul, but I’ll hold it long enough to be within them and show them the truth in their war.

The Birth of Sin (The Harbinger of Envy)
by Alexsander Edwards
edits by Kaylie Hatch

The newborn creature looked down at its own hands. Their colors and shape remained in a constant cycle of warping, as if multiple bodies tried to come through, only for the chaotic mass that formed the being’s silhouette to reject all of them.

“It is complete,” a female voice boomed behind the formless creature.

“Will it work?” a male voice questioned.

The creature looked around for the source of the voices, finding two bright auras of light, towering over it. Something told the creature that the two towering creatures ahead were its creators.

“Will it protect them?” the male voice asked again.

The dark creature’s eyes, slowly adapting to the void, darted until it could see a planet, covered in plants and weak creatures – humans.

“It shall,” the female being responded. “It is his duty, as our plans decreed. It shall be our first Protector.”

Protector? It could barely see anything around, and its own body couldn’t even hold a shape yet, and it was deemed to act as a protector? And, of all things, it was to protect lowly life forms? Anger bubbled at the thought that the beings in the void couldn’t be bothered to give it a sensible form, yet saw nothing wrong with assigning it a job from birth.

The creature hated it.

—

The creature looked at its – no, his own hands. Sharp claws now sprouted from needle-thin fingers. His body white as a skeleton, with eyes sharp as those of an eagle.

He looked back for a moment, facing his makers locked in a bubble universe, screaming for their freedom. He grinned, before leaving them to their fate.

On the planet below, pitiful humans continued on their blissful lives, still praying to his sickening creators.

He needed a name, didn’t he? Oh yes, one that told the worms of the world who he was. The creature reflected on those old words. “Protector.” No, he had a new purpose.

His name was Abennon – the Destroyer.

A Civic Duty
By Cheezesammich

A storm raged in the distance. Beyond the city’s walls, thunderclouds cast bleak shadows down on rain-soaked earth. Within the confines of the city’s Caelum systems, however, the weather was perfect. Sunny skies for 30 years. A sheet of angry wind and rain swayed at the edges of the city, surrounding the perfect circle of blue above like a curtain. Below, Naysmith street was abuzz with life. People crowded the sidewalk where I stood next to an alley.

“Heads up, Dead-gene’s headed your way.”

Router’s voice came through loud in my ear, bookended by the chittering of my earpiece. She had been giving me positional updates for the past hour, but her newest one was redundant. With nostrils coded to detect source genes and vellus hairs tuned to his electromagnetic frequency, there was no way I could miss the target.

“I know,” I said as he came into view.

His shoulders were hunched and his arms were drawn close to his body – archaic indicators of fear. He might as well have had “Dead-gene,” tattooed on his forehead. My skin prickled in waves as he approached, oblivious to my presence. I slid my tranquilizer gun out of my coat pocket.

Like the lightning outside the city, I was there in an instant, pulling him into the alley and pushing the gun against his side. He struggled initially, but then he saw my silver eyes and realized he was dealing with someone designed to hunt people like him.

“Please -”

I tuned out his vocal frequency and his pleas fell silent. It was always the same selfish request for freedom – Dead-genes like him thought their natural births made them special. They thought the Improvement Maxims didn’t apply to them. They never seemed to care about the threat that their unmodified, imperfect genes posed to society.

I glimpsed his fear in splotches as dappled sunlight slid across his face. He had my pity, but not enough to risk reintroducing a genetic disaster, like cancer, into the population. No, much better to put him on ice, to serve as genetic backup.

I squeezed the trigger.

Getting To Know Her (Nyx’s Story)
By Calliope Rannis

Nyx sat down by the campfire, relaxing at the end of a long day. The closeness of the flames felt very hot against her skin, but it was an intensity that she enjoyed.

“So, how did you get those horns?” She said casually, turning to the companion sitting beside her. “Cos you’re definitely not a Sulphkin, and their horns look completely different anyway.”

Louise turned to face her, her heterochromatic eyes filling with an eager light. “How did you get so tall and toothy, my dear?”

“Hey, I asked you first!”

“And I asked you second.” Louise replied, with the confident tone of someone who had already won.

They stared each other down for a moment, until Nyx conceded. “Fine then,” she smiled, “we’ll go by your rules.”

She let herself fall backwards, her hair mixing with the grass and earth as she looked up towards smoke and stars. “Not that there’s really much to say. I really wanted…something, and I found someone who could give that to me. I worked for him for a year, and he eventually gave me what I wanted.” She let out a hollow laugh. “But I got a lot of things I didn’t want too,” she said, her hand brushing against her fangs. “Isn’t that always the way?”

Nyx tilted her head towards Louise, to find her laid down next to her, curious eyes peering deep into hers. “Your turn now.”

“You haven’t answered my question yet, dear.” Louise said with a teasing grin.

“I have!”

“You told me how your teeth got big, yes. But you haven’t told me how you grew to such a height!”

Nyx sighed, unable to keep a smile off her face. “Look, I’ll tell you that one next time, okay?”

Louise paused in thought, and then nodded. “A fair bargain to make, my dear.”

“Good! So how did you get your horns?”

“I was born with them.”

“…That’s it?”

“It’s the true answer, my dear.”

“But, but HOW were you born with them?”

Louise’s eyes lit up in triumph. “And how did you get so tall, my dear?”

Reflections of The Self (Chronicles of The Dragon)
By Makokam

Kat sat at her counter, staring at her hands.

They were bruised, scratched, and even bleeding in places.

She’d punched her fists through stone, concrete, and steel before. None had done this

So, what was it? What could she have hit to do this to herself?

The answer was her father.

She hated him. She hated that he even existed. She’d hit him as hard as she could.

But as beaten as she was, she knew he’d been holding back.

She’d spent her childhood struggling to survive against horrors in a land that wanted nothing but her suffering. Bolstered by her mother’s stories of Earth, and how they would take revenge on the monsters that had banished them there, she’d survived.

Then, after they’d escaped, after nearly two decades, she learned those monsters were her actual parents.

Her mother gave her the blood of devils and angels. Her father gave her the power of Hell’s unending fury.

Rabat noisily popped the cap off a bottle of beer and slammed it down in front of her, popped the cap off a second one, pulled out the chair next to her, and sat down.

She looked at the bottle for a moment before picking it up. As she lifted it, the reflection of her eyes caught her attention.

They were red, and swollen, and… stained. They were lavender.

She’d only seen one other person with that eye color, and they’d died at her hand. Died smiling at her; happy that her daughter was alive.

“Do you ever feel like you’re a monster?” she asked.

The monkey-man beside her set his beer down and looked at her for a moment. “No,” he said, without any hint of sarcasm or annoyance. “Do you?”

Kat took a long drink and then set the bottle down.

“No,” she said, “I know I am.”

Expressing as human
by Aracnarquista

“You are killing me, you know?”

“Sorry, didn’t know that would bother you so much. But the place is teeming with the little critters.”

“No, I meant it literally. Each one of them you stomp is a part of me you are killing.”

“Do you mean…?”

“Literally. In more senses than you’d expect. They are part of me.”

“So… you control them? Feel what they feel?”

“I’m trying to say it in terms that would make sense for you, but this vocabulary is not really helping. “They” are not a part distinct from me. I am all of it. What you see as me, the one you were calling Robert before is… like one of my organs. The one who has the apparatus to talk to you and decode the sounds you make in a way that allows me to participate in this conversation. But it is no more “me” than the “spiders”. This” – Robert (that part of Robert which seemed like a human body) made a wide gesture, encompassing the whole room. Encompassing the mass of what I could only think of as spiders. – “is me. This is Robert. The whole of it.”

There was a long moment of silence, while I tried to process what Robert showed me. To understand what he meant, to accept that bizarre reality, to rearrange a part of my world to consider this as something that might exist in it. And Robert respected the moment I needed.

Even his spiders – which I should now consider were his in the same way his arms were his arms – had stayed mostly unmoving. Later I’d discover that was not easy for him.

“Does Isa know?” It was a stupid thing to ask, but it signaled Robert that I was ready to hear the rest of it. Then it dawned on me why my brother-in-law was explaining it all now.

“Of course. She always knew. I’d never hide something like that from the future mother of… well, that’s it. Your niece. She will inherit it.”

The Strange Savior of Thelma Becker
By T.C.Holmes

“My family, is a bunch of fools”, said The Stranger suddenly.

“What?” said Thelma slightly startled at the sudden broken silence from her wounded savior, currently lying beneath the quilted cover of her guest bed.

“I said”, The Stranger sat up with a grunt, propping their back against the headboard. Thelma had taken The Stranger’s clothes off and dressed their wounds as best she could, with their upper body exposed Thelma could see even closer the unusual appearance of The Stranger.

For the most part they appeared human, two legs, two arms, one head. They were female judging by the breasts, and their face had a generally human shape to it, with deep green eyes, inky black hair, and a pair of slightly puffy lips, that however was where the similarities ended. Their neck was a deep dark green from a series of scales that took the place of their skin and grew thinner until vanishing entirely as soon as it reached her head and face. Those scales ran down the sides of her torso, before once again subsuming the skin completely on her legs, and running out behind her in the form of a long sinuous tail. Her feet even though they were covered Thelma knew ended in a set of black claws that grew into points. The last and perhaps most striking feature of The Stranger appearance wise was the massive pair of bat like, scale covered wings that sprang from her back just below the shoulder blades.

“My family is a bunch of fools, and so are you for saving me, because now you’re in danger”, The Stranger turned, and sunk down, burying themselves under the covers again,” You should have left me to die.” With that final statement The Stranger returned to her silence, and spoke no more for the next three days.

Strange New World
by Matthew R. Wright

William Weston-Wexler wanted to BE something, wanted to BE someone. He was default in all the important aspects: appearance, ability, appetite, and attitude. Basic. Besides his name, which when initialized was the acronym for the internet, there was nothing remotely interesting about the man. That would be until tonight.

WWW stood before a dodgy-looking dark-market dealer of exotic organs, looking hesitant. Actually, something of note: WWW was the person that I knew of who suffered from buyer’s remorse BEFORE buying something. It was something that would consistently cause frustration to those that had the misfortune of interacting with him.

A very illegal alley-way deal had been arranged, with the help of a mutual friend. The friend and dealer had attempted to capitalize on WWW’s only abundance: nativity. Especially when it came to the complexities and costs of VEX implanting. WWW wasn’t too clued up on the VEX or the MERGE.

It had been five years since the MERGE, the near-apocalyptic event when nineteen of our infinite multiversal neighbours COLLIDED or MERGED together with ours. Most people knew that this event brought with it, besides the countless deaths and destruction of property: all new histories, technologies, and new lifeforms; lifeforms that could be harvested.

WWW had been told that the organs of the VEX, one of earth’s many new inhabitants, were not only compatible with human physiology but were also cheap, dirt cheap. WWW liked cheap and dirt.

Looking into the clear-plastic bags spread inside of the van marked SIMPLY THE VEX, what WWW saw gave rise to a great many thoughts and ideas. There was so much here that WWW desired. So much potential. Laying before him was the default-change that he had looked so desperately for, for so desperately long.

VEX skin gave access to new sensations; a VEX voice-box expanded our communication options; the VEX sexual organ allowed its wielder to pleasure a wide variety of creatures, big and small.

WWW took a deep breath and spoke slowly and softly.

“Erm… Do I need to make a decision right now?”

It was going to be a long night.

A Good Monster
By The Ink Chimera

Issina knelt on the barren, scorched ground of the battlefield. She was smiling as she pet the eviscerated, mangled body in her lap. She was the only one left amongst a field of fallen bodies. Some friend, some foe. It didn’t matter though. Not as long as she pleased her goddess.

She looked around at her brother and two sisters. They were both dead as well. She was the last person, at the end of an era. The traitorous rest of the Vandicelio family wasn’t worthy of being here.

‘How dare they try and betray our wonderful goddess. She gave us this power. We should belong to her, and her alone.’

Still smiling she tightened her grip on the bloody head in front of her.

‘You. You’re the one who poisoned them. Filled their heads with your heretical lies. You don’t deserve our goddess’s mercy, father.’

She crushed his skull in her hands, relishing the warm feeling of the blood as it further coated her.

“Well done, my sweet, obedient child.”

The voice was heavenly, dripping with a sultry, alluring tone that would turn even the most loyal of followers.

Issina’s smile widened in bliss. Although the tone was condescending, she had pleased her. That’s all that mattered.

“Thank you, goddess Avrophey. My life, my body, my soul. Every part of me belongs to you.”

“Of course. You were always my favorite.”

A shiver ran up her spine, and she looked once again to her family. It hurt to kill them. They should have worshipped her goddess as she did. How cruel to betray her. But, despite the pain, she’d do it again, and again, and again, as long as her goddess ordered it

She stroked her slightly swollen tummy, and looked to the sky. Humanity would be seeded again, as it had been millions of times before. But no matter what, her family would follow her goddess as it always should have.

It didn’t matter if people looked at her as a Monster. She’d happily take the title if it pleased her.

“My good monster.”

“Your good monster.”

Monstrously Average
By: Hael Amon

Welp, I’ve gotten perfectly average scores on all my grades, which is quite nice? English, a boring breeze. Mathematics, liked the challenge to get the mistakes believable but not too much fun. Physics, just had to ‘misremember’ a few things to get it right. Then the electives were so easy as to be a sin.

Took a bit of research to find out the ‘average’ amount of friends and ‘average’ amount of emotional attachment and that was a joy and a half. So much fun to crack open the mysteries of mediocrity in its finest form. They’re all those kinds of friends that would forget me soon. The manipulations were a joy to practice!

I even managed to have ‘average’ relationships although they stuck around a bit too long… Couldn’t let them figure things out, so I had to dump them a bit early to maintain things.

Ah, but the teachers. All the pushes, the shoves, the little nods and gestures I mimicked to perfection. Even that loquacious fool never saw past the surface. My face is so average that if I didn’t try to stand out nobody would tell who I was at any amount of glances. Tis’ my masterpiece indeed!

Though there is one thing I can’t hold back in easily…

The sweet smell of fresh blood is too alluring to hold back from. The sensation of a knife through soft, tender flesh. The joy of a challenge to do it all undetected while teasing the police, and the oh so burning sensation to see their frustration, their pain, their sorrow. The curves of the mouth, the wrinkling near the eyes, the somber aura that I can’t even begin to describe. It’s delicious and addicting.

Just like this girl’s flesh. It’s perfect, flawless even. Her voice a symphony, and what I do with it a masterpiece. It’s truly so hard to hold back and make this look too good.

Yet I held back, I really did. I managed to come out as an ‘average’ serial killer amongst the rest.

Sympathy for the Devil

By: The Missing Link

She began to stir in the makeshift bed as the rain continued to thunder down all around. I shivered through the soaked clothes clinging to my back. The cold bit like a rabid hound, but I’d given her my only blanket, and the fire afforded me no warmth.

“What’s wrong?” a weak voice drifted across the cave.

“It’s nothing.”

“You sound sad.” Of course, she was right, and I hated myself for it. I had no right to sadness.

“Are you well enough to walk?”

She frowned, feeling around to sit up, but didn’t turn my way, not that I could blame her for it. “What’s the rush?’

“You can’t be seen with me. The less time you spend here the better.”

“I’m sorry. I’m always such a burden on everyone,” she said, finally turning to face me. Her eyes were vacant, looking nowhere in particular.

“No, I didn’t… I mean you’re not… it’s for your sake.”

The silence that followed seemed an eternity. Idiot, why did you say that? “It’s funny you know. Everyone always tells me that. I’ve always hated how they’d decide my entire life for me. I’ve come to understand when someone really wants to be alone, and I’d appreciate if you’d stop lying to me.”

I cracked under her visionless gaze. “I don’t deserve this. Don’t waste your time on me.”

“That’s my decision to make,” she said with renewed firmness, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Do you remember the Razing?”

“How could I forget? I lost my mother that day. The last thing I ever saw… was her splattered against the wall.”

“I’m sorry, the demon who ruined your life, and everyone else in the world’s was my father. I’m a monster. I deserve every bit of their hatred.” She stood up and fumbled across the cave, trying to feel her way along the wall. “Watch out,” I called out as she slipped.

I felt something I never had before when I caught her. The warmth only spread as she tightened her embrace, “You’re not your father.”

“A Monster’s Self-Reflection”

By: Arith_Winterfell

STARDATE 125.013 Personal Log

I’ve left my home world behind. It is no longer safe there for me with the fall of the previous regime. The flight from it now gives me time to ponder the nature of events.

Some would argue I was born a monster, simply because I was born a telepath. Or more accurately, I was born with the genetic markers and the dimensional energy syndrome that allowed me to develop into a telepath thanks to training. Still the difference is of little import to those making such judgements. To them anyone who violates the sanctity of another’s mind is a monster.

I was trained under High Lord Markin’s regime and was trained to serve the state. Markin was a dictator, and a tyrant. I really have no illusions about that as I was always a little doubtful of the sanctity of the state. That said, I also recognized I was a tool of that state in its struggle against potential threats. I was raised to do that, trained to do that, and that is what I did.

Should I have joined the rebellion against Markin? Perhaps the rebel cause had more fervor, but it also killed men and women just the same. No one’s hands were clean. And besides, I had mind searched and taken information from rebels by force, I would hardly have been welcome among them.

I think monster is just a word for dismissing people by othering them. The conflict on my home world between the state and its rebels proved both sides monstrous, myself included. Perhaps it is just in the blood of us all because we are human. My own actions did not occur in a vacuum, they were part of one group desperately clinging to power, and another group wanting that power for themselves. I regret the suffering my abilities have inflicted, but so long as such abilities exist there will be people who want them used for their ends. Perhaps it is simply time that I should make my own decisions about how that power is used.

I have no eyes, but I must see

By Tamela Redfin

CW: Body horror

“GILBERT!” Feldspar Augen threw a vial on the ground. “How dare you not do your job.”

Gilbert looked at his clone father, “Klon vatti, I wasn’t able to find Phosphorus Cameron. You’re the original, you do it yourself.”

“I have to train the cyphas, and quite a few left thanks to that one group.” His pale eyes twitched, “They are escaping.”

“Not my problem, Klon vatti.” Gilbert scoffed.

“They say madness runs in the blood.” Feldspar Augen pulled a needle from his pocket.

“Klon vatti?” Gilbert gasped in horror.

“Ya? If you can’t be a good soldier, I’ll treat you like a mousetrap. Build a better one.”

Gilbert teared up, “That’s what you did with Lukas, Otto and Odile, didn’t you?! Does emotion live in your mind?”

He nodded. “Ya, I loved Iris and still love Sulfur Cora. Anyway, hey, stay still. It will hurt less if you don’t move.”

“Niey! Niey!” Gilbert cried. But Feldspar Augen shoved the needle into his skin, causing him to collapse.

He shook his head. “Oh Gilbert. My last clone. I told you not to be too difficult and unlike a cypha, you would bleed out. Can’t have that. But not to worry.” He grabbed a knife and cut out one eye, humming and placing it in a jar. He worked late into the night.

“Gilbert.” Feldspar Augen cooed in the morning, handing his clone a mirror.

One look and Gilbert dropped the mirror, screaming, “What has been done to me!?” Half his face was metal, just like his arm and legs. Also, his voice sounded as if it were robotic.

“You said you had trouble catching the cyphas and Phosphorus Cameron, so I made you into a cyborg.”
“Teufel!” Gilbert shouted.

“But if I am the devil, so are you.” Feldspar Augen smirked. “Now bring me that traitor, Radon Cecilia’s head!”

Hate is a Strong Word, But I Really, Really, Really Don’t Like You
By Marx (CW: Physical/Emotional Abuse)

Daisy had never seen Alex like this before. Control was his thing. He lived his immortal life by it. And here he was, screaming in her face as he repeatedly punched her into a brick wall.

The blows didn’t hurt. She’d had worse. She could take worse. He knew that.

Even still, when he stopped and she slumped to the floor, she felt defeated. Broken. And that was before Alex pulled her up by her hair, a manic glow in his golden eyes. “What did you do to yourself?!”

Daisy slowly looked up and answered with the truth. “I… hate you. I hate how you make me feel. And I hate that every good thing I do is with the power you forced on me. So… I asked Matt to sever our connection. To change me so I didn’t need it anymore…”

“You insignificant little mutt!” Alex roared, slamming Daisy into the wall again. “You are MINE! And the pain I’m going to put you through for this insult…”

Flashes of Daisy’s time with Alex went through her mind. Not just the brutal things he did to her, but the horrible things she did for him. How she’d enjoyed doing those things. The person she was when she was with him. A scream she didn’t recognize erupted from her lips as she kicked Alex away with everything she had, feeling his bones fracture and break from the force.

Alex easily regained his balance and a new wave of fury overcame him. But as he took a step to make Daisy pay, he winced, looking down at the wound she’d inflicted. Both Alex and Daisy stared at it in shock as the wound didn’t heal. Alex took a step back.

“Wh… what ARE you?”

Daisy continued to stare openmouthed, and then she began to laugh. She laughed until it hurt. Alex wouldn’t attack her again. She was safe for tonight. He’d need time to plan.

Every horrible thing he’d ever done to her, he’d done when she wasn’t even REMOTELY a threat.

What was he going to do to her now?