It cut into me (missing my heart and going straight for my pink little damaged brain) like some one was ripping me apart from the outside in, and that's just what he was doing.
It burns past my lips (like a fireball of hate soaked in gasoline) his name, Sylar.
He waves Daddy's gift (one that always kept food on the five million dollar table) in my face and the tears well up but the anger takes over every single sense, how was this all my fault?
Moments, seconds or even hours after my little 'outburst' my whole body still tingles with blue and each and every spark is aimed at him (who didn't expect all of that power from little old me) and all the hate that swells up in me, each cell screaming for his head.
Each one of them (Peter included in the new unfamiliar face) surround me with pleading (evil and one puppy-dog) eyes.
"El, you have to help us, we have a few people on our side but need even more if we plan on killing Sylar he's been catching up and we need him gone. I'm sure you want that, now don't you sweet-heart?"
Unlike the days before (days of being normal, which was harder then catching Sylar and having a non-crazy thought) where daddy's word was law, it seemed that I had the freewill that always wanted, I just came across it the wrong way.
"One: Call me sweet-heart again crispy and you feel the power of a real fire, and two: when do we start?"