OLIVIA LAROUX

:Innocent Bystander

I slammed the phone down, snapping the plastic on the dock. I felt rage boil up from my feet to my chest, slowly rising upwards, as if I couldn't contain the anger Lizzie's reaction had planted inside of me. I was trembling manically. I didn't know what the hell was going on. I forced my hands into tight fists, digging my fingernails into my palms; trying so desperately to regain control over my body. I felt them cut into my skin, but I felt no pain. I pushed harder; it distracted me from doing anything more violent or irrational. Images from throughout my life flew in front of my eyes. I saw my mother lying in hospital ready to die; when I was just a little girl. I saw the faces of the bullies I'd faced for years of Middle and Upper school. I saw Lizzie's vacant expression from the prom. I focused on Lizzie's face; trying to figure out the links between the pictures. The connection was they all made me feel uncontrollably angry.

I let out a deafening scream as I flexed my fingers, blood dripping down my forearm. I was shaking more violently now. I examined my palms; there was nothing but four tiny scars left on each hand where the gashes had been. I choked in shock at how quickly the wounds had healed. I closed my eyes, trying to subdue the violent urges rippling through my body.

My father crashed through the door after he'd heard my blood-curdling scream.

"Olivia, what the hell is going on?" He shouted. I wasn't physically crying, yet tears rolled down my face. I was in pure shock. The whole experience was like there was something inside of me I had no control over – something stimulated by my anger. It took me a while to answer him. He was sat on my bed with his arm around me, trying to make me look him in the eye. I couldn't. My mind was focused on the three images which began to explain my anger. I slid my hands under my duvet so he didn't spot the scars on my palms.

"I just had a bad dream." I whimpered. My eyes glazed over. I must have looked vacant. "Leave me alone." I whispered.

My father hugged me tightly, rocking me gently. I used to have nightmares for months after mother had died; he was used to comforting me for hours. This time was different; I didn't want him here if I couldn't control my anger. He examined my face before he left. I still refused to make eye contact with him.

I was a lot calmer now, the rage was subsiding slowly. I was too hot; I decided to go for a walk to cool down. I threw on some jeans and a pastel pink tee shirt, and left out of the front door. I glanced up and down the street. A man, around six feet tall, leaned menacingly against a tree about four houses down the road. His arms were crossed; his eyes were constantly focused on me. I decided to walk in the opposite direction, my strides becoming longer as I panicked, wanting to get as far away from the stranger as quickly as possible.

Before long I was walking out of the village, into the open countryside. The road narrowed to a single track lane, which linked our village, Greenfield, with the neighbouring towns. I glanced behind me; there was no sign of the dark haired man that had stared at me. I was thankful, slowing my pace a little to catch my breath. I stopped altogether when I was happy it was safe; to fix my hair into a ponytail with the band I kept on my wrist. The morning was still and quiet; unnaturally so. I took one last look down the road I had walked along. The man still wasn't there.

I turned quickly, intending to carry on walking. I froze as soon as I saw the man blocked my way. He was a good foot and a half taller than me, his brunette hair swept backwards into a ponytail. His eyes were a bright, blood red.

"A little early for a stroll, wouldn't you agree?" The man had a low, but melodic voice. The sarcasm in his politeness was like he was holding a blade to my throat already. "Oh, you're giving me the silent treatment? That's so thoughtful of you." He continued, as I hadn't replied. "Spoilt mortal brat!" He sneered, spitting on the ground. "Tell me," He moved closer towards my face, taking deep breaths, which seemed to amuse him. "What's the quickest way to make you angry, Olivia?"

I stayed silent; anything I said he would use against me. He had obviously thought this encounter through already. "Oh, how rude of me..." he chuckled. "I haven't even introduced myself." He was deceptively charming at this point. "I am Alistair Leach, a close friend of Elizabeth. I believe you know her." He ran his index finger down my right cheek, and clasped my neck with his ice cold grip. The image of Lizzie's face from the prom; the way she pushed me aside as she made feeble excuses to leave; the way she spoke to me on the phone; all came flooding into my mind's eye.

"Don't you hate her?" he tightened his grip around my neck. "Or will I need something else; something more?" He sounded frustrated. "Tell me now! What can't you stand?!" His voice sounded urgent. I could tell he wanted me to lose control of my anger. He wanted me to be a volatile monster. "This is where Jasper would be handy." He muttered to himself, a hint of disgust and envy tainted his voice.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, keeping calm. He removed his hand from my neck; surprised to hear me speak.

"I want you to cooperate." He said; his voice a much lower, more secretive volume. "How can I make you angry, hmm?" He crouched a little, so our faces were level. I stared into his bright red eyes.

I closed my eyes, debating whether to run, or to unleash the full extent of my anger upon him, which would be a huge gamble. I had no idea what would happen. I felt powerful when I was angry; but he looked more deadly than anything I'd witnessed before. He took me by surprise, picking me up by the front of my tee shirt. I kicked out violently, trying to make him drop me, but his hold was too strong. He cackled.

"That's more like it!" He smiled; his face looking evil and sadistic.

"Put me down!" I screamed.

"Tell me what you know about Elizabeth Canterbury. Tell me everything, now!" he barked.

The sound of her name sparked fury inside my body, just as her sickening joke had done before. I felt it build up from my toes, to my waist, stiffening my limbs. It flooded through my bloodstream, hitting my neck like a tidal wave. My head was engulfed in rage. The decision was suddenly made for me.

I burst from his grip; I flew through the air. It felt like my body turned inside out; flesh ripping itself apart. I felt powerful again, I felt monstrous. I lost all of my senses for less than a second. I saw blackness, before I hit the floor with an almighty crash; I felt numb. I regained my sense of smell first. It seemed incredibly intense. I smelled the country verge; I could smell every plant individually. I could smell Alistair in front of me; he smelt utterly foul; unbearably sweet like fermenting fruit. The smell tore through my nose, causing pain. It was this that granted me my sense of touch back. I felt the tarmac of the road beneath me. I was lying on it, but it felt comfortable. I felt fur between my skin and the road. Quickly, I regained my senses of hearing and taste. They too, were a lot sharper than before I collapsed. I could taste the pollen in the air as I breathed in through my mouth. I heard Alistair shuffle his weight from one foot to the other. My sense of sight was last to return to me. My eyes were already open, but the blackness cleared. I looked up at Alistair's face. His head was tilted, like he was finding it difficult, trying to comprehend what he'd witnessed. I tossed my head from side to side, gaining awareness of my immense new body: four legs; four claws; twelve whiskers; two eyes; one tail. I was larger than natural panthers – my back was level with Alistair's chest – which made me feel very powerful. I purred sarcastically, menacingly. Alistair was uneasy; unsure whether to attempt to win an ally or run for his life. I felt a growl burn inside of me, eager to escape through my jaws. Alistair stepped backwards, giving me room to recover. I smiled as I realised his mistake. I felt my claws open on the ends of my four feet.

I would rip him to shreds.

I lunged for Alistair's throat; instinct fuelling my attack. He jumped into the air, somersaulting like an acrobat and landing in a defensive crouch behind me. I still had no idea what I was capable of. My thick fur was pitch black which flashed around in front of my eyes as I kept clawing at Alistair and ducking from his hands. He managed to grab me and tried to scratch my side, but as soon as I drew blood the wound healed almost instantly. I felt indestructible.

I launched myself through the bushes at the side of the road, into the moors. Alistair found it difficult to manoeuvre himself between the trees because of his wide shoulders. He was faster than me, but I was more agile. I turned back to him when he least expected it, launching myself at his throat again, and I pinned him to the ground. I was devastated as my claws were useless against his skin, which seemed stone hard as well as ice cold. He cackled, not even out of breath.

"Olivia, stop this nonsense." He said coolly. I stopped trying to wound his chest and his neck with my claws. I held him to the ground, wanting more of an explanation. Did he know what was happening to me?

"There are others like you, Olivia." He began. "Get off me and I can tell you." I growled at him; a confident refusal. I placed my jaws around his neck; ready to take his head clean off.

"You're not ready to kill anybody, Olivia." Alistair said. "Don't be irrational."

I backed off; Alistair was right. I was still a teenage girl – I wasn't capable of taking the emotional burden of murder. I could have beaten him, if I'd wanted to. Alistair threw me his leather jacket as a peace offering. "Phase back," He ordered me, "Now."

Alistair turned away. Without consciously deciding to, I slowly began to melt. I felt like wax, forming a different body again: my human body. It was a more pleasant transition than phasing into the panther. As soon as I was human again, I realised my clothes had disintegrated when I'd phased on the street. I was a mess: my hair was teased; I was naked; and I had just learned I had the ability to shape shift into a panther. Alistair's jacket drowned me, which I appreciated. He turned back to face me when he heard me fasten the zip.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked, hesitantly.

"Nothing's wrong with you." Alistair sneered. "You're a shape shifter."

"I'd gathered just about that much. Why?" I replied.

"You've been created because I'm here. Please, don't be upset. I can explain everything." I said nothing; I wanted to let him explain himself. "Shape shifters are the natural enemies of... us."

"Then who are you?" My eyes narrowed as I examined his blood red eyes.

"Shape shifters are natural enemies of vampires."

That explained the blood red eyes and the undead appearance. I had to open my mind to the impossible now.

"All the more reason for me to kill you." I murmured.

"That's not exactly the reaction I wanted." Alistair kicked a tree in frustration, causing the whole thing to shake. "More of your kind will be created as long as we are here."

"How long will that be?"

"However long it takes for my brother and I to protect Elizabeth Canterbury."

"Elizabeth?" I asked; my heart skipped a beat after I said her name.

"Yes." He chuckled. "I'm surprised that you despise her so much."

"She's changed." I said quietly.

"You both have."

"You mean she's like this too?" I was shocked.

"No, she's not like you; but she is the centre of all of this."

I contemplated Alistair's comment. Elizabeth was the reason I had become this. I would have to live a lie – a secret – because of her!

"And you're her friend?" I sneered, threateningly. I phased slowly this time, but blacking out for a shorter time. I controlled the anger and frustration that built up inside me, and I eyed Alistair as foe, not friend. I lacerated his jacket in one swipe of my claw as a sign of my disrespect. I could cope without his interference, and I would make Elizabeth pay for stealing my humanity.

I ran home as fast as my new body could manage. I ran the opposite side of the hedge, parallel to the street. I'd only walked about a mile; I was home within minutes. I phased back in my back garden, jumping the back fence with ease. I ran inside and got dressed. I started thinking about a way to make Elizabeth feel ruined. What couldn't she live without? The answer was ridiculously obvious, and I laughed to myself when my plan fell into place. It was all so easy.

I checked the time; it was twenty to nine. I remembered Alistair had mentioned his brother. Perfect. I called Luke's mobile and left an answer phone message since he couldn't pick up at work.

"Hi Luke, Olivia here. I've been trying to get a hold of Elizabeth recently, but she's not picking up. She's been hanging around with two guys recently and I wondered if you knew what was up. Give me a ring back and I can talk to you about it some more, okay?" I tried my best to sound distraught and anxious, which was difficult when I felt confident and malicious.

It was five thirty when Luke called me. He was so possessive, which made making him insanely jealous hilariously easy.

"Olivia; Hi. I called as soon as I got your message. What's up with Lizzie?"

"She won't talk to me. She's always 'busy', and when I went over this morning she didn't answer the door. All I heard was her talking to some guy."

I used some artistic licence to elaborate on what I knew, a little.

"Have you upset her?" He sounded angry already. I grinned.

"Not as far as I know. I just wanted you to know, Luke. I know you love her."

"I'll pop in and see her on the way home from work. I'll see how she is." He finished. He didn't say goodbye before he hung up.

I sat and waited for him to make her feel uncomfortable or even better, to catch her socialising with vampires.