A/N Ladies and Gentlemen! I present: Chapter 6! I know, a month late, but life is just a crazy, hectic thing to be a part of and, unfortunately, we don't really have the choice to hide out in our rooms and be anti-social with a laptop and a never-ending carton of Cookies-and-Cream ice cream Dx Life would be so wonderful...

Anyways, I decided to try something new and do first person point of view-I know I'm totally changing it up, but I find third person hard to write. But if you guys read this chapter and decide that you like third person better, review and tell me so and I'll change it back :D Or, you know, review and tell me you like it this way. Either way... reviews are brilliant! :D

I'm pretty sure my chapter titles are getting progressively longer o.O

Disclaimer: I wish, but no Dx

Chapter 6: Secrets, Lies, and Monsters in the Closet (Or Dresser)

MAX POV

Have you ever had that feeling, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle and your stomach fill with anxiety? Where you know something big is about to happen, but you can't for the life of you figure out what? It was that kind of feeling that filled my chest as I walked home from Fang's house.

I didn't know what had happened to me back there. The-vision? Whatever it was-had felt almost familiar, like a memory. But I didn't remember my seventh birthday like that.

Come to think of it, I barely remembered my seventh birthday at all. It was mostly a blur-I knew I went somewhere with some friends (or was it family?) and we did something fun, but I couldn't recall anything more than that. I decided not to overthink it.

Once I got home, I immediately went to my room and collapsed on my bed. I was exhausted, but I hadn't even done very much that day. I had a raging headache, but then again, I always did.

I knew that if I slept then, I wouldn't sleep that night, so I grudgingly hauled myself out of bed and into the hallway. On my right was the guest bedroom, the one no one ever uses. The room kind of creeped me out. In front of me and a little to the left was the main bathroom, basically claimed as mine. And to my left, all the way at the end of the darkly lit hallway, was my mother's room.

She'd told me once, when I was little, to never go in her room, or the monsters that she kept there would get me. At the time I was young enough to believe it, and then once I got older it had become a habit-don't go into Mother's room.

I don't know what made me do it. Maybe after the crazy weirdness of the day, I was a little out of it, or maybe I was looking for answers. Maybe I was just bored and needed something to keep me awake. All I know is, within a few seconds I was quietly opening the door to my mom's room. There was no, "Maybe this isn't a good idea Max" or "You should probably think this over first." No, nothing like that. Just pure impulse; my specialty.

I walked into the dark room, half expecting dramatic, creepy music to start playing. This was the moment in all the horror movies everyone starts screaming at the stupid person on the TV screen to stay away from the dark room!

But I never was very good at listening.

I walked over to her closet first. I know, I know- the closet is always where people in movies get killed. But I was in my mom's room, not some soap opera.

I opened the closet door slowly, laughing quietly at the irrational, little kid part of me that was still slightly afraid of monsters. I searched her closet from top to bottom, not knowing what I was looking for but thinking that I'd know if I saw it.

When I found nothing suspicious, I moved on to her desk. It made me want to spill something on it, that's how clean it was. In fact, that's how clean the whole room was. It barely looked as if anyone had ever been there, let alone lived there. I searched her desk, but found nothing save a few bills and some empty notebooks.

That just left her dresser. I felt kind of weird going through my mom's things like a spy of some sort, but I also knew that there was something in this room that was important, something that I needed to find.

There was nothing on top of her dresser except for a picture of her and I when I was 5. I'd always hated that picture, though not for any particular reason. It just looked… off to me. Call me crazy.

When I opened the first drawer, I immediately closed it again. It was full of undergarments and socks, nothing that I especially wanted to be digging through. I moved on. The second drawer was all shirts and tank tops. It revealed nothing of importance, unless you happen to really like Beatles t-shirts. Which my mom did.

The third drawer was the same as the second, except full of pants and shorts, as was the last drawer. I even went so far as to search for false bottoms, but to no avail.

That just left the first drawer. Much as I hated to admit it, it made sense that a person would hide important things in a place no one would want to look. So, arming myself with two latex gloves that for some reason she had in a box next to her bed, I searched her first drawer.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I almost screamed. It was just so frustrating. There had to be something there, there was nowhere else to look and, whatever it was, it was in this room. Call it what you will, instinct, a gut-feeling, insanity, but I was sure. I'd grown up with this sixth sense of sorts, and I'd learned not to ignore it.

I searched the drawer again. And again. And then again, discarding the gloves. And right when I was about to give up hope (and probably go bang my head against a wall a couple of times), I felt it.

A false bottom.

I indulged myself in a little victory dance for being such a good little spy, and then I carefully pulled out all of her underclothes and opened up the false drawer.

The first thing I saw was a large manila envelope with my picture on it. Seeing as how it had my picture on it and was obviously about me, I didn't feel the least bit guilty when I grabbed it and immediately opened it up and pulled papers out.

Words jumped out at me, words like experiment and test subject. At first I didn't understand. But slowly, as I read more of the very official looking documents in my hands, realization dawned on me. After that, it was just a matter of overcoming denial. I mean, this was my mother. Of course she couldn't be involved in this, this testing and experimenting of a child, her daughter, her own flesh and blood. Right?

Right?

I turned back to the documents, trying not to feel anything. Just focus on the facts, Max. I took a deep breath. According to what I'd read, I was an experiment of some sort. Something like two percent avian DNA and the rest was human. This had, apparently, been done to me after I had been born, and that the changes had to be triggered by something. Age, the paper had said- when the experiment reached a certain age, predetermined by the creators of said experiment, he or she would begin to feel the effects of their mixed DNA. It would happen very quickly, apparently.

I shook my head in disbelief. Mixed DNA? I was a hybrid? Avian-American?

What kind of sick-minded people would do that to a child? A baby?

I read on. "Subject A.G.E #0001 was held in our laboratories until the age of four, when it, along with three other experiments, escaped. It and one other experiment were found three and a half years later, when the youngest experiment, Subject A.G.E #0006, was taken from the laboratory and traced back to Subject A.G.E #0001 and Subject A.G.E #0002. Jeb Batchelder and Valencia Martinez were found to be the culprits in all escape endeavors, and were punished accordingly. The experiments once again disappeared."

Martinez. Was that why I'd had such a strong reaction to that name when Fang "said" it?

"Two years later, Subject A.G.E #0001 was found and transferred into the protective custody of one of our most trusted scientists. Subject A.G.E #0002 was also found, but it was decided that it should be put into a different, but still controlled, environment, as a long-lasting test of sorts. Subject A.G.E #0002's parental figures were disposed of, and it was placed into foster care. The whereabouts of Subjects A.G.E #0003 and 0004 are still unknown, and Subjects A.G.E #0005 and 0006 are being held in Itex facilities for further testing."

I felt my breath coming in short gasps, my chest closing in. I was hyperventilating. I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down, knowing I had to keep it together, had to find out more. Who were the other four experiments? Apparently, at least I and the second one were found and kept in the custody of scientists. Where were those other two?

And what about 5 and 6? How horrible must their lives be, held in that facility?

And why didn't I remember any of this?! What had they done to my mind? I instantly felt violated and my breathing sped up in anger.

Then, my breath stopped in my chest altogether as another thought occurred to me. Did that mean that my mother was one of these scientists?! And one of the most trusted ones, at that!

I couldn't process that. My mind just would not comprehend.

I started searching for information about the second subject, a name, a location, anything. I got all the other papers out of the drawer and spread them out on the floor all around me. Before I could find anything out, however, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I instantly froze in terror as I realized what that could only mean.

"Mother" was home.

FANG'S POV

After Max left, looking rather pale and sick, I collapsed onto the bed. I threw my arm over my eyes, shutting out the light.

What was that? I left her alone for barely two minutes, and she goes and practically has a seizure on the bed!

Alright, so there was no seizing involved. But still!

I laid my arm back against the black comforter and stared at the drawings on the wall. My drawings. They were the only things in this room I could legitimately call my own. That's why I hung them everywhere-so that the room felt more like home.

What about them had caused such a reaction in Max? I'd come into the room in time to see her staring one, shock and disbelief roiling in her glazed over eyes. That was just before she'd stumbled back onto the bed, holding her head in her hands and breathing like she was going to have an asthma attack. Not for the first time, I wished that I had the will to speak. Life would be so much easier.

It had been the pictures that caused whatever had happened to Max, though. That was a place to start. I heaved myself out of the bed and started carefully taking down all the drawings, one by one. Once I'd gotten them all down-I hadn't quite realized how many of them there were! - I spread them all out on the floor around me. There had to be something here, something to connect all the mystery shrouding Maxine Rivera. And I intended to figure out what it was.

A/N Oi! Drama, drama...

So, the truth comes out! Well, parts of it. Bits and pieces. :3

...I actually don't have anything to talk about. That's like, a once in a lifetime occurrence o.O

Oh! Story rec: Ten Ways To Know You're Alive by Kimsa Ki-Lurria

Remember-reviews are the equivalent of inspiration and make me feel loved :D