A/N: Hey guys! This is my first shot at fanfiction and I hope I do good enough so none of you will hate me. I'm not particularly good at writing so I had to do an ETA. So please be gentle okay? Thanks a lot in advance :)

PROLOGUE: Genesis

Mackenzy Claire Stanwick turned on her wipers just as the first few drops of rain hit the windshield of her old 1983 Dodge Viper with a loud splatter. Scowling at the thought of another possible storm coming, the eighteen-year-old Irish-American instead willed all her focus onto the road in front of her now teeming with motorists eager to get out of the sudden downpour. However, the radio seemed to have other plans for her.

In the middle of playing AC/DC's Highway to Hell, static filled the small space inside her car, threatening to destroy her eardrums. All of a sudden it stopped, and then the familiar voice of the local weatherman interrupted her cursing, "Good evening, folks! This is Arthur Johnson, here to give you the latest weather reports as of tonight. Aside from the occasional drizzle, it has been confirmed that a thunderstorm is just around the corner yet again. That's the third one we're having this month and scientists do find it odd indeed, considering that we are in the month of January, winter season, and thunderstorms should be very rare. They say that this just might be the effects of climate change…"

Highly irritated, she shut it off then. Blood was pounding on the walls of her skull and the noise only made it worse. Headache, she thought to herself glumly. What a wonderful way to spend my 18th birthday.

Rounding another corner, their old Victorian house came into view. According to her research, it was built around the year 1875 by a rich Irish merchant who died aboard the RMS Titanic when it made its maiden voyage in the year 1912. Despite its age, though, it was still a beauty.

Most of the time, she liked the house she shared with her little brother and their neighborhood, even through the fact that it hardly felt like home, seeing that her father was ever barely home and it was just the two of them together. Right now wasn't part of that 'most of the time' though, as her instincts were screaming at her to tuck tail and run very far away from here as fast as she can. Something was very wrong.

If it wasn't for the fact that her baby brother was with no doubt waiting for her inside, she would've given in already. She pulled over by the side of the road and stepped out of the car, albeit hesitantly, after she killed the engine

She sighed heavily as she walked the short gravel pathway to their front door, forcing herself to think of happy thoughts. It was her friggin' birthday so she should be happy! Unfortunately, the memories she conjured though happy only managed to hurt her even more than physical pain did. They were memories of a blissful picture-perfect family—hers. She lived peacefully with her brother, her mom and dad—at least for awhile.

Finally, she reached the patio and faced the door, doing her best to even out her breathing. My brother need not suffer with me just because I can remember what it was like before that tragic house fire that took our mom from us.

All of a sudden, a crashing noise from inside their house broke her train of thought and she landed back to reality with a painful thud.

Poising a hand to knock on the door, she was shocked to see that it wasn't locked like it should've been. Her mind raced ahead of her and she found it hard to breathe. Could there be a burglar in the house? "Damn it, Calvin! I told you to always lock the door!" she hissed to no one in particular, not knowing what to do next.

She knew that she should really call 911 to ask for help. But what whoever was inside hurt her little brother? She wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happens to him when she could've done something to protect him! Screw this, she hated not being in control of things!

Just then, another crash came from inside, deciding things for her. With a clammy and slightly shaking hand, she pushed the door open all the way through determinedly, trampling on any self-preservation instinct she had left. Thankfully, the door didn't creak.

Nearing the kitchen where the crash seemed to have come from as stealthily as she could, her heart dropped to her stomach as she took in the scene before her. Shattered glass and china were scattered everywhere on the carpeted floor along with pieces of wood splinters that used to be cabinets once upon a time. And in the middle of it all was her dad whose shirt was covered in red. Lastly, her eyes landed on the granite kitchen counter and her breathe hitched in her throat painfully. A young boy no older than fifteen who looked awfully like her brother lay there, all mangled, bloody, and bruised.

Her gaze returned to the man who stood beside the boy's unconscious form, seeming too calm and rather pleased with himself. Did he do all of these himself? There was no doubt in her mind that he did, so a more appropriate question would be why?

Her dad returned her look. "Hi! Mackenzy, right? It's so nice of you to join us. I've been dying to meet you for quite some time now," he said, amusement and mockery clearly in his voice as he tried to straighten himself out and wiped his bloody hands on an equally blood red shirt. He flashed her a conceited smile that was just so unlike him and she could've sworn his eyes were yellow.

"Dad, are you stoned?" That was the only explanation that came to the confused girl, but even as she called him dad, she just knew somehow that he wasn't really her father. He was just so different from the man she thought she knew. Malice was rolling off of him like waves and the sight that had greeted her did nothing to lessen her growing unease and sense that the man in front of her wasn't her father at all. But really, how can she deny the resemblance? It's not like someone can copy appearances and pretend to be her dad right?

For a moment, no one moved or said anything. The silence almost killed her right then and there.

"Yes, of course. You think I'm your dad since I'm wearing his meat suit," he explained. Looking at her and added, "Confused? Don't worry, I'll explain everything to you later on. Let me just finish my business here with your brother," dad—or not-dad—faced her brother once more

Kenzy took a step forward to stop him even though her gut told her to just get out of there. Suddenly, this strong and invisible force pushed her back and onto the wall where a console table used to be, her feet lifted a little above the ground.

"Just stay there for a while now, Mackenzy," not-dad told her, his back turned to the girl.

What on Earth is going on here? She had no idea what; all she knew was that it is the doing of the man who was pretending to be her dad. "Let me go, you bastard!" she demanded.

"Is that how you talk to your old man? I'm hurt, Zy," he faked, using her dad's old nickname for her. How he knew about that when her real dad hadn't called her that for at least a decade she didn't know. The man who claimed to wear her dad's skin slowly but purposefully made his way towards Kenzy instead of her brother, a peculiar expression on her face. And she was glad. All she needed to do now is keep him occupied until hopefully, help arrived. She wanted to kick herself for not calling 911, but she was still held immobile.

When he was just a foot away from her, smirking at something he saw on her face—fear, most probably—she spat on him and announced in what she hoped was a defiant voice, gritting her teeth to control the anger that was pulsing through her very being, "You're not my dad!" She worked hard to keep her face devoid of any emotion then to avoid giving this strange man who had hurt her brother the satisfaction of seeing her scared and vulnerable.

Her action earned Kenzy a backhand on the face that would have sent her hurtling across the room had it not been for the force holding her steady. Somehow, that only amplified the stinging face a thousand times. "You listen to me, you insolent brat! I could kill you right now on principle alone—"

"So why don't you?" she retorted, licking the sticky blood off her lips. "I figured you can after I saw the redecoration you did to our house, but somehow, I'm still breathing."

"Well that's true," he agreed, nodding his head thoughtfully. It chilled the remaining blood in her veins just looking at him, almost as if she could hear his brain working something out. "You, I can't kill. But your brother, on the other hand, I'm not so sure."

Enraged, she started struggling at the invisible force that held her down like an animal, yelling at the top of her voice. "Get away from him! Don't you dare touch a hair on his head or I swear to God, I'll kill you with my bare hands!"

"K-Kenzy?" All the rage was drained from the eighteen-year-old when she heard her brother calling out for her.

He looked so weak and so much in pain trying to raise his battered body into a sitting position that her heart constricted tightly like a vise was clutching it for all its worth. The helplessness of the situation frustrated her, and even more than that, it scared the crap out of her, not for herself but for the wellness of her brother." I'm here, Calvin. I'm right here. It's gonna be okay, little brother. I pro-mise." Her voice broke on the last word, though, and even to her ears, they didn't sound very reassuring.

"No," Call was alert and screaming in a matter of seconds, struggling against the same force that pinned Kenzy down with all his might. "You can't be here! You have to get out of here now. Go!"

"Cal, I'm not going anywhere without you," she told him weakly. Even if I could, she added to herself mentally. "I can't just leave you here." She glared openly at not-dad now, "Not with this bastard."

Calvin's breathing came out as ragged gasps. It's a wonder he's even conscious. "You can't save me, sis, and you know it." As if on cue, he coughed up more blood. "M-my life is just another sacrifice I'm willing t-to give… these black-eyed bitches.. They can't get their filthy hands on you…"

Just as Kenzy opened her mouth to reprimand him of his idea, pain bloomed inside her chest and spread like wildfire. She couldn't bite back the scream fast enough. It felt like her hear was being squeezed dry.

"You sure about that, Calvin Jacob?" not-dad taunted. "'Cause the way I see it, your sister's right where we want her. Suffering and in pain." The squeeze then became a crushing weight that got heavier with each syllable the impostor spoke. Thick liquid slowly flowed from her mouth, oddly tasting like iron. My blood, she thought gravely as darkness threatened to surround her. The girl fought back valiantly until the darkness became mere spots in her vision.

When they became clear again, she watched her brother resist the force again with renewed determination and strength even as blood continued to drip from all his wounds and lacerations. Kenzy desperately wanted to tell him to stop trying to protect her—that was her job, for chrissakes! She was the big sister who was supposed to watch out for her baby brother, not the other way around! And here she was, being forced to stand by while the life drained out of her baby brother. But infuriatingly, her mouth remained resolutely shut, almost like her lips were glued shut.

A delighted grin crept on not-dad's face, and then he flicked his wrists, a move Kenzy nearly missed since she was so concentrated on her brother. She still saw it though, and as soon as not-dad did that, her brother went limp in an instant, his neck bent at an irregular angle.

First came the shock, and then Mackenzy Stanwick went ballistic.

She didn't give a damn that her chest felt like it was still on fire. She didn't even pause to check why her blouse was soaking wet. The only thing she cared about was that her brother was now unmistakably dead, killed right in front of her, and all the remaining strength she had left went into fighting against that force acting on her. It gave her sadistic satisfaction to see not-dad having an extremely hard time subduing her, his forehead scrunched up in attention.

"You're father is still in here, y'know." In a last-ditch effort to weaken her resolve, not-dad said, "He's blaming himself for your mother's death, but most of all, he was blaming you. He's thinking you shouldn't have been born. Maybe he should've killed you long ago. That way, his wife and only son would still be alive and well without you screwing up all their lives."

Uncomprehending, she stared at him for a few seconds, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. Did I really bring this down on my family?

He sneered at her when she paused and Kenzy decided that she didn't care about that right now. This bastard's dying tonight.

With only revenge in her mind, she lost total control of herself and white light flooded the room immediately. The force restraining her disappeared instantaneously, not-dad gaping and obviously alarmed. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go and then black smoke started gushing out of it and pooling at his feet. It froze Kenzy in the middle of her stance observing what was happening right in front of her. After it was all out, he dropped to the floor with a muted thud.

Kenzy walked over slowly to make sure that he was out or more preferably, dead, and was surprised to see that he wasn't either. More distressingly, he was crying his eyes out. He looked up at her surveying him and in that moment, Kenzy saw her dad again, the way he was before that tragic fire. "I'm sorry," he whispered, dark red blood now pouring out from his mouth like that black smoke had. "I'm sorry I let those demons get to you. I'm sorry… I failed you and I'm sorry…"

A weak-in-the-knees sensation came over her and she sank to the ground, putting her arms out to break her fall. "Dad…" she mumbled. There was no fight left in her anymore and the darkness was now taking that to its advantage, trying to pull her in again.

Dad—she was positive that he really is her dad now—smiled softly in that same gentle way Kenzy knew from her childhood, "I love you, Zy."

Tears formed on the corner of her eyes and she whispered a very shaky 'I love you too'. Then she blacked out.

A/N: There you go. How was it? Please take a moment and review. Your input would be very much appreciated. Thanks again :)