Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters such as MacGyver, Pete, ect….although I do own the character Alexis and would like to keep it that way.

Chapter 6

I had gone home after that episode with Murdock and went into the house, using the front door. Zaven was sitting at the kitchen table, drink in hand while my father was on the phone with someone in the living room.

I came in, dropped my house keys on the table and went to the fridge to grab something to drink before heading in the living room to sit down on the couch and watch some television before going to bed for the night. My father was talking with Pete, I assumed because of his tone, and I could only manage half of the conversation, but what I gathered told me that neither my father or Pete were impressed by something that had happened at the office—the office? Uh oh!

I placed my glass down on the counter, smiling softly at Zaven before heading down the hall to my room with the excuse that I was tiered and wanted to hit the hay early, knowing full well that my father wouldn't disturb me until I got up the next morning.

Now I had a real mess to deal with—Murdock had gotten away and he was totally pissed off at me. Well, it was about time I got a secret mission of my own, I would deal with him on my own and I would do the one thing that my father couldn't—I'd kill him!

I got changed rather quickly, changing into a pair of black low rider jeans and a red tank-top before grabbing and throwing on a black zipper up sweater, leaving it unzipped. I then grabbed my black sneakers and put them on before grabbing a piece of paper and a pen off of my desk.

Dad,

Couldn't sleep and went

for a walk. See you in the

morning.

Alex

I tossed the note onto the desk, placing the pen on top of it so that it wouldn't move, grabbed my cell phone and clipped it to my belt and then headed for my window, climbing out onto the fire escape, down the stairs as quietly as possible and out onto the street, heading back to the foundation to look for any sign of Murdock.

The foundation was never closed and most of the times this is where workers ended up in the middle of the night if they couldn't sleep or the answer to a problem hit them suddenly in the night. I knew that I could get in and out without it looking suspicious because I always came here—only usually my father knew about it, unlike this time. I knew that I had dropped Saunders keys on his desk, and I also knew that his door had been blown out, so getting anywhere near there wouldn't be to bright of an idea, considering that I wanted to stay away from Pete and the others as much as I possibly could. So to get what I needed, I would have to take a little detour, up the stairs, around the corner from shipping, down a hall, a couple of left turns, one right and I would be near Saunders' office, only I would be on the other end of the hall where no one could see me and I could watch from a distance and get the information that I needed.

Pete was standing in the hallway with several police officers in toe. He was talking with on guy while most of the others were walking around to gather information and clues, picking up the glass from the door, papers, and other things that they thought vital to their investigation.

"Looks like the person cleaned up," one cop called as Pete looked at him, suddenly confused.

"Cleaned up? Murdock? No way, it wouldn't happen," he said as he walked over and took one of the papers from the younger female cop, reading it with a sigh, "Murdock's file," he mumbled, handing it back, "I'm putting my best guy on this one."

Shit! He was going to call my father, already? I took in a breath and headed back down the hallway, retracing my steps until I got to the stairs, where I sat down for a moment. Pete was calling my father, which would bring him down here and he would be able to put two and two together to put me right in the middle of this mess, like he always did.

So I had one of two choices; get out of here and go home, pretend like I knew nothing and hope that it would all blow over; or I could go after Murdock and hope that I got a hold of him and killed him before my father found me. Choice number two sounded just as good as any to me!

I stood up and headed down the stairs and out onto the street before my father got through security. Now I had to find Murdock—or maybe I could get him to find me…now that's a thought, but how?

I was walking down the street when I decided that this was a good a time as any to try and get my gift under control, so I stopped and stood on the street corner, looking across the street to see a garbage can in the alley. I lifted my hand, but nothing happened, no light, not pain, no burning sensation, nothing. I groaned, cursing my mother as I glared at my target. Then it hit me, the angrier I got, the easier it was to get my gift to flair up—that was my triggers, my anger for my mother would set it off and the love for my father would turn it off. I smiled, thinking of my mother as the burning sensation went up my arm and rested in my hand as I closed it, holding the ability in place. I kept my eyes on my target as I opened my hand and the blue light shot out and headed straight for it.

I smiled, waiting for it to get just before it before I slowly closed my hand, as if mimicking the action on holding a glass. This caused the blue light to encircle the garbage can, just like it had the glass from Saunders' office door. It was perfect, I knew how to work the light, it was just like another hand; whatever I did with my hand, the blue light would do too. Smiling in satisfaction, I opened my hand and thought of my father, making the blue light fade before my eyes.

Now I headed to the old abandoned warehouse to practice my assumptions so not to hurt anyone, except my targets. All I had to do was get to know my gift, make it a part of my life, and I could kill Murdock for all the pain he has caused my father and I; it would all be over tonight.

The warehouse was totally abandoned, like I had assumed it would be and I began using my gift to see not just how to control it but what kind of strength it had. I send out my light and let it hit into an empty crate across the room, watching it explode upon impact, the wood chips flying everywhere. My eyes widened at the sight as the realization of just how strong this power was hit me; it had broken that crate with no effort at all into little pieces. My surprised expression vanished and was replaced by a smile as I sent out another one, letting it his an old steel door, this time, the door collapsed in and flew off the hinges.

I laughed, feeling a sudden surge of power fill my ever being and I was now content that I could control this gift without a problem, but now, instead of a burning sensation, I felt something else—something that I couldn't describe. I was filled with power, and knew it, but didn't want to help others or get world peace, no, I wanted control, power, and was going to get it at whatever cost!

My heart no longer felt heavy with my worries because I couldn't feel it, I felt no pain, regret, or sorrow for what I was doing and I no longer cared. I felt nothing, but liked it. Heard nothing but my own heavy breathing, but couldn't have care any less. I was changing, but invited the thoughts. I was no longer innocent, but wasn't concerned.

I headed for the back door of this place, pushing crates, breaking down doors, and even blew out a wall as I walked around with no real destination in mind. I saw a mirror in the distance and sent out a beam of light, it hitting it and sending it right back at me. My body jumped before my brain could acknowledge and accept the movement and I back flipped over the beam to land on top of a crate and watched as the reflected light hit a window, demolishing it into pieces that scattered over the stone floor.

I smiled down at the broken glass, but soon turned my attention to the mirror, glaring daggers at it in the distance. I jumped down from my perched spot and walked over to it, glaring into it to see my face glaring back. My natural blue eyes were a deep yellow color and my eye teeth were now in the shape of fangs—different, I thought, but didn't mind the change; no, instead I welcomed it. I smiled, realizing that I had stumbled upon my weakness—I couldn't break through a mirror—and glared at it, turning my back as I brought up my hand, tossing another beam of light to hit the crate that I once stood on, watching as the massive body was turned into a million small pieces of nothing, dust and rubble flying towards me. I hissed, barring my fangs as I brought up a hand, the blue light automatically shielding my body from any harm.

Nobody but me could see this light, no one except me knew about what it was capable of doing, and nobody but me was going to use it. I smiled again, looking down at my hand, wondering what other feats I could concur—gravity perhaps?

I placed my hand straight down, pointing it to the floor at my feet and was about to send another beam to the floor—making sure that it wouldn't be strong enough to blow out the floor, but still string enough to send me upwards—but stopped when I heard my father's voice calling my name.

I shot my head up, glaring as I heard the debris from my travels being moved around. I barred my fangs out of anger as he called my name again, this time, more panicked and worried than the first time. I brought my hand up, glaring as I was preparing to fire on him and whoever was with him…fire on him? No, this wasn't me! I couldn't! I wouldn't!

I forced my hand back down, now fighting myself as I heard him call my name again, this time followed quickly by Pete's voice calling out as well. I hissed angrily, thinking of my father, his gently voice and touch, the way he tended to me when hurt and the way he never let me down. The time he helped with homework, taught me to walk and talk, to defend myself without the use of a gun, and how he was always there when I needed him. I heard his voice once last time before I hit my knees, crying out in pain and frustration as I felt my weak body return to it's natural form, my eyes going back to blue and my fangs now gone; but the burning returned, this time, full force as my body fought this other part of me—a part that I now regretted bringing out.

"Alex!" Pete called as my father entered the room and ran to my side, hitting his knees in front of me and cupped my cheek gently.

"Not again," he whispered under his breath as Pete got to my side as well, kneeling down as I began to cry, feeling the warm tears roll down my cheeks to fall onto my jeans, "Breath, Alex breath…" he mumbled a few other things, but they never registered as my mind started to blacken, along with my vision. I felt dizzy and suddenly very sick to my stomach as my head spun violently and I was pulled into my father's arms.

"Mac, what's wrong with her?" Pete asked franticly as I continued to cry in my father's chest, feeling one of his hands rest on the back of my head as the other rested on my back, rubbing it soothingly.

"I've got this handled, Pete," I heard him say urgently as he forced me to look at him, my vision blackening and spinning. His touch was soft and it was enough for me to stop crying, my sobs only hiccups as I tried desperately to stabilize my vision.

"Dad," I whispered, "I'm sorry…"

"Shh," he said gently, hugging me tightly, "It's all right," he whispered in my ear as my vision slowly began to restore and I could finally move enough to hug him back. I felt the pain in my back slowly subside as my breathing regulated and I was finally capable of speaking in full sentences without having to take a breath between each word.

"Alex, what happened here?" Pete demanded as I pulled away from my father and forced myself to stand on weak legs. I brought my hands up to my face and wiped the tears from my eyes and cheeks before turning my back on them, breathing still a little fast.

"I don't know," I said honestly. How had I lost control of my own body like that? What was that thing that took my place? How could I have been so evil? "I really don't know."

"Take it easy kiddo," my father said as he placed a hand on my shoulder, "I need to talk to you; it's about the gift your mother left you." I looked straight ahead of me, looking at the mirror that had remained on the wall. I didn't want to face him, nor did I want to tell him about this new level in this game that we have been calling my gift. I didn't want to tell him about the emptiness that I had felt, the nothingness, the hollowness, but I knew that there was no point in lying to him about it—it would come out sometime, and I'd rather that he knew about it and heard about it from me.

"I need to talk to you too," I admitted, voice low as I continued to look at the mirror, "there more to this gift than we thought."

My father hadn't taken me home and instead he had chosen to take me to The Phoenix Foundation, where we sat in an office of some kind, just the two of us. I was looking at my feet, now ashamed of my actions tonight, and the way I had dealt with them. I hated what this gift had done to me and the way that it had taken over my life just like that, so simple.

"I was going through some old photo albums tonight," he said, keeping his back to me as he looked out the tenth story window down to the parking lot where our jeep was now parked, all alone in the dark. "This whole thing has really made me think of your mother and I wanted to see her, so I went to the old photo albums and this fell out." He turned around, holding another piece of paper that had the same purple pen that my mother had used to write my letter—I knew immediately that it was from her. "It tells about the reason she left, and it has a warning about this gift of yours." He handed me the letter and I brought my eyes to it ever so slowly, scared of the so called warning that she had left.

Dearest MacGyver,

I should be telling you this in person, but I am afraid that I am loosing the battle that is currently being fought inside of me. This gift that our child has, the gift that I cursed her with, is one of greatness, but before she can have that, she must battle the monster inside of herself. This could easily kill her, like it is doing me.

Mac, I need you to help our daughter through this. I'm warning you that this will not be easy for either of you to do, and one of your little gadgets or brain storms isn't going to help her out of this one. She will need you to be loving and accepting, but this has to come from inside of her.

She will become more and more aggressive, and this could turn one of two ways—either she will over come it and become the guardian that I know she can be, having a gift that will help her help others, or this will over come her completely, and when it does, you will have to kill her. Once over come by this monster, a guardian is completely evil and will have no remorse for his or her actions…I am afraid that this is what is happening to me.

I love you Mac, and this is why I am leaving you now, before I harm you or our child. I will be killed because I was not strong enough to overcome this beast, it is now up to you to help our daughter through this troubling time, and help her to live.

Love always,

Anza

I took in a deep breath as I finished the letter, letting the paper fall to the floor at my feet as I felt tears begin to form in the corner of my eyes, blurring my vision. That's what had happened to me! I was fighting this thing that was suddenly raised in me, and I could possibly have the same fate as my mother. She hadn't just left us, she left to protect us from that thing, and now that I met it, I understood her decision—and respected it.

"Alex, I don't know if want this letter is saying is true but…" he began but I cut him off, letting the tears roll down my cheeks freely, not bothering to wipe them away as they fell to the floor.

"It's true," I sobbed, standing up and spinning around to face him, "that's what happened to me tonight. I was going to kill you and Pete…I was destroying things, causing havoc, but I didn't care," I was crying fully now, the realization that my mother wasn't strong enough to concur this, that she had died because of it. "I had yellow eyes and fangs…dad, I'll end up dead, just like mom!"

He looked at me with such pity that only served to make me cry even harder as he came across the room, pulling me into a hug, holding me closely as he began to cry as well. I felt his hot tears touch my cheek as others fell to my shoulders.

"I don't know what to do," I cried, burying my face in his chest, coughing as my sobs took away my breath, "I can't fight this…" I sobbed as he pulled back, cupping both my cheeks, one in each hand, as tears continued to fall down his cheeks.

"Did you kill me tonight?" he asked, eyes locking with mine as I shook my head, hiccupping slightly, "Then you've started to fight back and you can do this." He said it so seriously that I couldn't help but nod in agreement; although I had a feeling deep down that I was going to lose this battle, and end up like my mother.

I was pulled back into another hug as I began to cry again. I didn't know what to do, how to fight this, or why it happened to me. All I knew was that this thing had killed my mother and it was now going it kill me if I didn't find a way to get ride of this gift. I had to fight this, not only for me and my father, but now, for my mother.

I hadn't gone home that night, walking slowly down town in the dark, not caring about the sudden sprinkling of rain that had begun to fall. I had left The Phoenix Foundation alone, leaving my father on a computer on Pete's office as I decided to go back to the wear house and wonder, no real destination or goal, just going in circles to try and think.

The place was torn apart, wood chips and dust all over the place, glass and drywall dust covering the floors and parts of the walls. I walked back to the room with the mirror, walking through the hole in the hall that I ha blow last time I was here, and headed straight for the mirror, the only thing still in place in the entire warehouse.

I stared into it, looking at my natural blue eyes, remembering the yellow color that they were tonight, and seeing the red color that they had become from crying. I remembered the fangs that were once in my mouth, and shook my head to remove the image as I took the mirror in hand, looking down at it now instead of straight into it. This was my weakness, this was the one thing that had stopped my light and hadn't even been scratched in the attack. It was still shining, not even the dust had settled on it, unlike everything else in the room.

I knew that I had to fight this some how; I just didn't know how I was going to do it exactly. Suicide wasn't the answer, to easy, but if I fought it and lost, it would fall in my father's hands to kill me. I couldn't do that to him, I couldn't put him in that situation—I wouldn't put him in that situation.

I never noticed how much I looked like my father until this very moment. I had my mother's blue eyes, but I had my father's light brown hair, his jaw line, and his expressions. I was my father in and out—and was extremely strong mentally. I could do this…I think.

I was so tiered, and my brain had been rattled so much today that I didn't know what way was up or down anymore. All I wanted to do was sleep, but another part of me wanted to figure this out and get it over with, but I knew that this wasn't going to be easy, that there was no quick fix. I needed to fight something that was inside of me and I didn't know where to start.

Should I bring it back out or would that only start another fit like before? If I did bring it out, could I control it long enough to gather the information that I needed to destroy it or would it destroy me? Could I burry it back up once I was done or would it take complete control and force my father to kill me?

Too many questions and not enough answers. I couldn't take the chance that it would win, but I couldn't just sit around while this thing slowly to over me and caused my death. I didn't know what to do, all I knew was that this was a battle that I didn't want to lose, or even tie. I wanted, no needed, to win this and I needed to do it fast before I was forced to write my father one of those letters, telling him that I had lost the battle and that I was going to be kill for his own safety.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror, pondering on what my next move was, and began wondering why I had chosen to return here tonight. What was this going to accomplish? I was standing in the middle of an old abandoned warehouse, looking at my reflection in a mirror that had almost killed me only hours ago. I wasn't moving, walking, or doing anything but thinking silently. I couldn't come to a conclusion, but I wouldn't just drop it and go home for the night. I was afraid, but not like I was when I was two and thought that there was monster in my closet, not like when I was fourteen and was going to start high school, and not scared like when this all started. I was terrified that I was going to lose this battle, so terrified that I couldn't bring myself to move, all I could do was stand in this exact spot and think to no avail.

I suddenly felt sick again, but not the sick I felt when my gift got out off control, sick like the way someone feels when they are trapped with no way out. That's exactly what I was, trapped like a dog in a cage with my back against the wall and its tail between its legs.

I had to bring it out, fight it, learn to control it, kill it if possible. I placed the mirror back in its place on the wall and stood back from it; this was it, I had to do this, and hopefully I would be able to get back to myself before I caused any damage.

I began to think of my mother, but found that the anger that I once used as my trigger was gone, and was replaced by pity and remorse. I needed to find I knew trigger and fast before I changed my mind about doing this. I thought about everything that affected my life, and only found one trigger left—Murdock.

I thought of the man that had tried to kill my father on more than one occasion, the man that kidnapped me as a child to prove a point and the man that had tried to kill me at The Phoenix Foundation. I felt the burning in my back flare up and felt the fangs in my mouth grow almost immediately. I hissed as my heart was gone and I felt no pain, no worry, and absolutely no remorse. I felt my body smile and look in the mirror to see my yellow eyes glowing.

I remember thinking about the mirror, about how it was my only weakness and wondered what it was doing in the warehouse in the first place. I remember feeling an overpowering feeling of anger towards it and the feeling of wanting to break it overwhelmed me as I walked over to it, looking into it for a moment before barring my fangs and grabbing it angrily.

I felt every feeling that this monster wanted me to feel, all the hate, anger and rage that were constantly going through my body, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't feel love or happiness. I thought of my father, but only for a moment before I shot the mirror into the wall with a cry and anger, laughing as it hit the wall and smashed into a million pieces. This thing controlled my body as I fought to control my movements, but couldn't. I had two choices, give in and let this thing control me for the rest of my life; or I could fight it and try to get some control. My mother had lost that battle, she had let it win, but now I knew why. It was hard to fight it when I couldn't remember what love felt like, what happiness was, and why I wanted to return to normal. I couldn't remember my father's soft touch or voice, all I knew was that the frustration of my life was gone and I felt no real pain.

It was a feeling that was easy to get used to, I had to admit, and that was this things motive, its only control was to make you think that power was everything and that it was the only thing that mattered in life. I suddenly felt like I was suffocating, like I was getting no air in my lungs and I wanted out. I struggled, and felt my body hit its knees as I thought of my father, and what staying like this would do to him. I heard my voice scream out in anger, but didn't remember telling it to do so. I took in a deep breath and screamed in fear and anger, but didn't hear this scream being voiced by my body. I was truly trapped in this body, but had no control over it; my brain and body weren't attached when I was in this form. I could scream and talk out loud, but my body wouldn't voice any of it unless it was this things idea, or I managed to get it during a moment of weakness.

I could feel what my body was doing, if it was hit or hurt, but didn't care—I didn't like not caring. I wanted out, and that was final! I took in another breath, seeing my eyes glare and my fangs bare as I cried out, this time my body voicing this sudden outburst as this creature swung out and punched through the wall, my hand and arm covered in the chalk dust from the dry wall. I took in another breath, actually screaming for it to go away and leave me alone, but all my body voiced was a small groan of annoyance as I pulled my hand from the wall, sneezing.

At that point I felt my body weaken, and felt this things grip on me loosen slightly as I sneezed again. I smiled, thinking at how this thing was strong enough to break down walls but so weak as to lose its grip because of an allergy to chalk.

My body sneezed again and that was the moment that I cried out, my body doing the same as I hit my knees and transformed back to my human form. I took in a breath, coughing slight as my fangs disappeared and my eyes returned to brown. I wanted to cry, but held back the tears as I knew that this entire ordeal hadn't been in vain—I now knew one more weakness, I now knew that this thing well weak during a simple sneeze and that it couldn't handle allergies.

I was still on my knees, my hands planted firmly on the floor in front of me, keeping me from toppling forward and hitting the floor fully. Saying that I was weak now would be an understatement, and I even contemplated laying down and not moving, just going to sleep for the rest of the night and starting fresh and new in the morning. I had thought that, but I knew that my father would panic if I didn't show up home, and I didn't know how long I would sleep once I relaxed.

I forced myself to stand and slowly began my way back through the warehouse and out onto the street when my feet gave way and I collapsed to my knees on the sidewalk. I wanted to groan, but it came out sounding like I cry as I took in a rattled breath. I could still feel this things grip on my heart, and I knew that it wouldn't be long now before I couldn't battle it. I needed to find a way out, a way to win, but it wasn't looking good and I knew that if I didn't do so soon, I would be done for. I wanted to just give up, but it wasn't an option, so I got back up and continued my way back home.

I was coughing violently at this point, breathing heavily as I forced myself to walk down the sidewalk, stumbling drunkenly all the way until I hit the driveway to our neighbors and collapsed again. I had to get home, but this wasn't getting any easier for me. It had begun to rain, making my hair stick to my face, causing only more frustration as I looked up at my house, seeing the living room light turn on.

My father was worried about me, he was still awake. I sighed, crying softly as his face came into view, looking out the living room window to the street, his eyes filled with worry that only he could feel. I knew that I was the cause of his worrying, but there was nothing that I could do to stop it.

I forced myself up with a groan and headed up the front steps slowly, careful to not fall back down them to crash into the cement at the bottom. I could hear my bed calling out for me and my body knew it, all it wanted to do was collapse and sleep, while all my brain wanted to do was stay up and find a solution. I constantly felt sick, and it was more tiring then fighting this monster in the first place.

I opened the door, stumbling in as my father spun around to look at me, dripping wet and glaring as I slammed the door and sat down in the kitchen, not sure if I could get back up to go to bed.

"Alex, were in the…." He began but I cut him off immediately.

"Don't nag me!" I snapped quicker than my brain could process the fact. I didn't know what had brought it on, but all I knew was that I couldn't feel the fangs in my mouth, so I knew that this was me. I was suddenly easy to annoy and even more aggressive than usual.

My mother had warned us of this, and she was right. I was getting more and more aggressive and it seemed that this was signs that I was losing the battle. I gritted my teeth almost immediately after saying the words, looking down at the kitchen table.

"You should have come straight home," he said as I felt his look of disappointment melt the back of my head, "You had me worried," he added, voice low.

"I've told you a thousand times that I don't need your pity!" I snapped, slamming my hands on the table as I stood up and spun around to face him, "When will you just let me grow up?" I demanded, glaring deeply.

I saw my father's jaw drop, but he soon closed his mouth long enough to look at me, eyes showing no pity as he glared at me. I knew that if I tried hard enough I could apologize, but I didn't want to. I wanted to leave here, but knew that he would only chase me down.

My once weak body felt strong again as I stood strong in front of him, our eyes glaring deeply at one another. We would have stayed there all night long, just glaring silently at one another, if my father hadn't spoken up.

"I know this is what your mother was talking about, Soldier, but I am still your father and I still deserve your respect," he replied rather calmly. I glared at him.

"I am not losing the battle!" I cried, knowing that I couldn't say that with complete certainty, but didn't care.

"Don't put words in my mouth Alexis!" he snapped impatiently, "I never said that you were."

"That's what you implied, isn't it?" I cried back at him, glaring deeply, "You think that I'm weak like that good for nothing mother of mine!"

"Don't talk about her that way!" he cried, suddenly angry as I touched a nerve. I glared silently at him for a moment, our eyes clashing like the sun and ice would as I saw his eyes harden.

"You're always protecting her," I snapped, "she left us, remember?" I said coldly and walked down to my room, slamming the door shut.

I was angry now, but I knew that this thing had put my negative emotions to the extreme, leaving them in control of the positive ones. I knew that that was its game, but didn't care anymore; I was angry now and that's all that seemed to matter to me. He was always protecting her, which drove me nuts, and now I had the strangest urge to have a drink.

I never drank, not after I got caught drunk at a party when I was fourteen by my father and he refused to give me some Tylenol the next day to help with the hangover; I haven't touched the stuff since, but now I wanted it more than anything. I leaned against the door to my bedroom, glaring at the window as I contemplated whether it was worth going out to get something or not. I was haven't a hard time to control this thing as myself, completely sober, but all I wanted was to drink and get away. This thing had complete control over my body, which happened to include my lips and voice, and the thought of drinking seemed like the wrong thing to do. If I can't control it now, what would drinking to the point of intoxication help? Once drunk I would have more than this thing as a problem, I would have a body and mind that would be blurred and useless to me—and it!

That was it, if I could get drunk, get pissed off and bring this thing out, then I might be able to concur it because of the fact that my body would be useless to it. I would be staggering and stumbling drunkenly and this thing wouldn't be expecting a drunken body that it would have to control. I knew for a fact that my mother didn't drink, because of my father, so there was no way that she had tried this, and let's face it, I wanted to do something that she didn't, because if she tried it, it didn't manage to help her any, right? It was worth a try, get drunk and hope that this thing isn't ready to control me as a staggering drunk. It was settled then; I would have to get drunk, and fast.

That wouldn't be so hard because there're several people in this town that would gladly buy a minor some liquor, for a price of course. I grabbed my jacket, not caring that I was still socking wet or that it was still raining out, all I wanted to do was put this plan in motion before my father and me got into another fight and this time something was said that couldn't be forgiven. I pulled my jacket on and unclipped my cell phone from my belt, tossing it roughly to the floor, letting it slide into the wall as I headed over to my desk, pulling open the drawer and pulled out an envelope that was filled with some money that I had been putting aside.

Heading downtown was easy enough, and getting the liquor was even easier—one drunk, twenty dollars, and the liquor was mine for the taking. I headed back to the warehouse, knowing that if this went south, at least my father would be able to find me or my body in the worst case. It was time to start this, and pray that this thing couldn't handle some good old fashioned hard vodka.

I was assuming that this thing was a lot older than me, ancient even, and knowing that this was the only thing that my mother wouldn't have tried gave me in incentive to crack open the bottle and take a mouthful.

I slammed my eyes closed, groaning in repulsion as the liquor ran down my throat and burned. I opened my eyes and glared at the wall, taking another swig, this time jugging the liquid until I couldn't handle the feeling and I pulled away, bringing the bottle to my side slowly, and let it sit on the floor by my leg gently.

Once finishing the first bottle, which was only medium sized, I stood, feeling dizzy and watched as my vision blurred. Oh yeah, I was drunk all right, and I suddenly hoped that this plan was going to work. I opened the second bottle, walking—well more like staggering—as I started to drink this one. I didn't need to finish this one, feeling more than drunk after two or maybe it was three mouthfuls. My vision was blurry, my body was useless to me now, and I hoped that it would be to it too.

I glared, not having to think of anything in particular to start this transformation, feeling the fangs grow in my mouth and watched as my vision suddenly cleared as they turned yellow, but blurred drunkenly again.

I felt my body groan in annoyance as my eyes glared, then stumbled drunkenly as I slammed into the wall, sliding down and sitting there, fangs barred and hissing in anger. I smiled, although my lips didn't mimic the motion—this told me that the creature had control over the body and that I was trapped inside. The only difference is that I could now think clearly, my body was drunk, and now that the creature had control, it was drunk and not me. I remembered everything and now, my body could barely walk, never mind fight me back.

"Can't handle liquor can you!" I cried, hearing my body cry out in anger as it attempted to stand again, drunkenly. I smiled, as it glared at the bottle in my hand, "What's the matter? Don't like the feeling?"

My body cried out as it hurled the bottle at the opposing wall, watching it mash in a millions pieces angrily. I laughed, gritting my teeth as I cried out, although this wasn't voiced, and I fought to get it out of my body. Now that it was drunk and couldn't fight me back with all its true capacity, I was easily the victor as I bright blue light blinded me. The next thing I felt was my back hitting the wall as the force of whatever this was threw me into it with suck a force that I cried out, hearing my voice.

I no longer had fangs, and I knew that my eyes must have returned back to there natural blue color, but the only thing different this time was that I could hear someone else's breathing. I strained my eyes open, seeing the source of the second breathing noises. I had gotten my body back alright, but I had knocked it out of my body.

This thing stood before me with yellow eyes and long fangs. I cried out in fear, forcing my leg to get me to stand so I could see this thing face-to-face instead of face-to-feet. It was dressed completely in black, a black cloak covering its shoulders as my eyes widened—I had heard of people sobering up quickly during a moment of necessity, but I never knew just how fast until this moment. It was angry, hissing and glaring as I looked at it in complete bewilderment, this was the thing that was inside of me and the thing that had killed my mother, but how in the hell did I manage to separate it from my body?

"You'll regret doing that, wench," it hissed as I scrambled away, running to the other side of the room, obviously still drunk, "Now I can jus kill you!" Its voice was scratchy, rough like nails, and it was enough to scare me to death.

I watched it, like it was all happening in slow motion, as it raised its hand and shot a flash of blue light my way. Did I still have my abilities? If I did, were they anything in comparison to it's? I shot my hand up, crying out in fear as a bright purple light shot from my hand to hit its blue light, which only cancelled each other out in an explosion of light and sparks.

I gasped, breathing quickly as this thing backed off of me slowly, "I'll be back for you," it snarled, glaring before disappearing in a bright blue light.

I slid down the wall, pulling my knees to my chest and rested my head on them. His wasn't good, I was drunk beyond belief, this thing that was once inside me is now running lose in the city, and I didn't even know where to begin. I was happy that I had won this part of the battle and that my life wasn't in jeopardy anymore; I was pissed that I was now drunk out of my skull and couldn't even stand, never mind walk; and I was worried about what this thing was capable of doing, not only to me but anyone else that might fall in its path. I now had a bigger responsibility on my shoulders, I had to find that thing and kill it before it found and killed me.