Dear Diary,

If you could marry food I'd have married a big Mac long ago. I'd probably have eaten it before the ceremony but it's the thought that counts.

God! This is heaven! Especially after not eating for three days straight. I'm currently on my seventh. It's eating away at my cash fund but I couldn't care less at the moment. I know I'll regret it later but I'm just so hungry. I suppose this might seem a bit confusing... Okay here's the load down:

I'm a mutant. Human-avian variety.

I was created at the source of all evil. Otherwise known as 'The house' with hundreds of other 'Experiments', all genetically modified all undergoing 'tests' known as torture in civilised society.

Aged 5, Mr and Mrs Meyers (lab-coats from the house) rescued me, and were about to rescue the others but they got fired. They tried to raise me like their own, but it was a bit of a fail, I'd been through too much to ever trust them enough for it to work.

About a month ago they died. The police records say it was a heart attack. Funny, I thought the bullets in the brain that the biters (snake-human mutants, the house's private army) had shot at them.

The biter's had come for me, so of course I flew away as fast as my wings could carry me.

I don't know why I just told my diary that.

I was tucking in to my tenth big Mac when a man walked in. It was 11 O'clock at night and the manager was getting ready to pack up.

"Sorry sir but we're closing and we are no longer serving customers." He looked at me at this point and I gave him my-go-jump-of-a-bridge-and-don't-come-back face and he returned his attention to the man.

"I'm not here for your filth. I'm here for her." He pointed a bony finger at me. If he wasn't a biter then I'm Justin Bieber. I feel the need to name the man, and because he was so ugly I'm going to call him Voldemort. I'm that cool.

"I think you should know that this girl, is a wanted criminal and your... establishment is surrounded by armed soldiers. I suggest you give her up and you" Voldemort turned to me "I suggest you come quietly."

"You can have her. Take her. Just don't hurt the restaurant. My boss'll kill me." Good to see you can still depend on the kindness of strangers.

"I haven't done anything!"

"It's not what you have done, but what you are capable of. Now are you going to come quietly or do we have to use force?"

"Or here's another option: you go die in a pit, and I can carry on with my dinner."

"They told me you'd put up a fuss."

"I wouldn't want to disappoint you now, would I?" and with that I gave him a quick roundhouse kick to the groin that would have hospitalized any normal man. 'Course, he wasn't any normal man, so as he went smashing into the wall he grabbed my foot and brought me down with him. Then there was a bit of a struggle as we both tried to stand up while keeping the other one down. Compared to the roundhouse-kick-and-smashing-into-the-wall-thing, this must of looked pretty lame. I would've been able to stand easy enough, but he wouldn't let go of my foot. I had a bit of a screw-this moment, and whipped out my wings. I kicked him in the face with my other foot, and flapped my wings a lot. I managed to wrench myself free and get out of there as fast as I could. The second I was outside, I gave a massive sweep of my wings and I was airborne. A run up is usually less painful, but I was more concerned about Voldy's back up. Just as I thought I got away, something whistled past the tip of my wing. Then it dawned on me. Armed soldiers, probably had guns. As more bullets came whistling past I span and looped as fast as I could keeping my wings in and getting as far away as I could. I saw some streetlights in the distance and began to head for those, continuing to duck dive and weave, away from the bullets. The sooner I got to a town the better. The shooting stopped and I looked down and nearly laughed. The biters couldn't cross the motorway so they'd been shooting at me from the side, but I'd just flown out of range. There is nothing funnier than seeing angry abandoned biters.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, It took longer than I thought to get to the town; by the time I got there it was about 6:00. It was a pretty basic suburban town, as people started to wake up; I began to walk and folded my wings in, so they were virtually invisible underneath the slits in my t-shirt. There was a laundrette, a post office, a Tesco, a pet shop and a sign welcoming me to Little Chalfont and to please die fully. I wandered around past some random Goth lady and a weird creeper man sitting outside the school. I bought a bag of chips from the chippie and sat on the bench at the bus stop, thinking about what to do. Yeah that's right. I was having a large bag of chips at 6:00 in the morning after eating 10 big Macs, only a few hours before. But then again, near death experiences can take a lot out of you. Across the road there was a 50 year old couple. They were going on holiday by the looks of things.

"Don't bring the key with you, you'll just lose it."

"How would we get back in the house then?"

"For god's sake Henry, leave it under the mat, we'll miss the flight if you're not careful."

"If you hadn't wasted so much time getting ready..." They got in the taxi. The key was under the mat. That was almost too easy. It was quite a nice house, there was probably food in the fridge and it was empty. I crossed the road got the key from under the mat and went into the house.

After a quick scout around the house I saw it was empty, there was a full fridge and a really big bed upstairs. After finishing my chips I flopped on to the cushy mattress and fell asleep

For some reason I woke with a start. I listened hard and then I heard it. There were at least 5 male voices coming from downstairs.

Crap.