I deflate.
Paige yells for him to leave. Again, he says no. A door slams. Something crashes. A table? Something breaks. Glass? Someone screams… Paige.
I’m instantly at the door, yanking it open. The heavy oak glides along its reinforced track and disappears into the wall. I barge into the living room, my hand sweeping the curtain of straight, black hair from my face.
Our entry table lies on the floor next to the front door. Next to it is our glass lamp, now shattered. Paige struggles to push Brock out, but he’s too big. Her long blond hair obscures her normally beautiful face, which is puffy, red, and streaked with mascara.
This is a stark contrast to the girl I know. Paige is athletic and one of the strongest women I know. She works out every day and has the physique of an Olympian. But she’s no match for the behemoth standing in her way. Brock’s bulging biceps stretch the fabric of his sleeves as he grapples with her smaller frame. He pushes Paige back by her flailing arms, refusing to leave the apartment.
Paige turns to me, eyes wide as if suddenly remembering I’ve been in my room the whole time. “Oh shit, Darcy!” She rips herself away from Brock and runs to me. “I’m sorry!”
That fact that she’s apologizing to me infuriates me more.
Brock’s eyes follow Paige. “You!” he shouts, his face shaking with anger. “This is all your fault, isn’t it?”
“Please, Darcy, don’t,” Paige implores, focusing only on me.
I ignore Paige and direct my comment to the guy behind her. “My fault? I’m not the one who cheated on his wife and lied!”
Paige places herself between Brock and me and gently pulls my face to look directly at her. “He’s leaving,” she assures me in a shaky voice. “Look at me. I’ll get him out of here. Just… stay calm. It’s fine.” She whirls around to face Brock as he approaches. “You need to go.”
This isn’t a plea like earlier. This is a warning.
He charges toward us and easily pushes Paige aside. I stand my ground. My blood boils, and I clench my fists so I don’t lash out.
His steroid-swollen head cranes down toward my five-foot, three-inch frame. “I always hated your yellow eyes.” Yeah, that’s the best insult he can muster right now. The first time he saw my eyes, he couldn’t look away. He called them “freaky” at the time. My irises aren’t just some faded-hazel hue but a deep, vivid, unnatural yellow.
An alert on my smartwatch goes off. Paige’s eyes widen in alarm. This is the first warning and means my heart rate has hit one hundred sixty beats per minutes. I take a deep breath, remembering what Paige said. Stay calm.
My fists relax. “Leave.”
He jams his finger into my chest, pushing me back. I stumble back from the forcefulness but keep my balance. “Don’t tell me what to do, bitch.”
Paige is at my side in an instant, an arm around my shoulders. “Darcy?” She grabs my wrist and looks at my smartwatch, trying to read the electrocardiogram on the display. My pulse is elevated but still in the safe range.
“I’m calm.” Though I’m speaking to Paige, my attention remains on Brock. “Just go home to your wife, Brock.” Then for good measure, I add, “Bitch.”
Brock takes two quick steps forward and pushes me with all his might. I fly and crash into the wall behind me. My head slams against the concrete, and I slump to the ground. I rub the back of my head. My hand comes away red with sticky fresh blood.
And I am no longer calm. The secondary alarm on my watch chimes. My heart rate has now spiked to one hundred ninety BPM.
“Oh… shit,” Paige mutters.
I rise, practically levitating from my seated position. Brock stands defiantly as I march toward him. My hand shoots up and grabs him by the throat. He tries desperately to knock my hand away, but he can’t. Panic rapidly spreads across his face. He must realize there aren’t enough metabolic steroids in his system to compete with my strength—my now-unnatural strength.
My mouth opens, but the voice that speaks isn’t mine. It’s a deep guttural inhuman sound from someplace dark and unholy. “I told you to go.”
I have heard this voice many times, but Brock has not. I can tell by the look on his face that he’s confused and very much afraid. He stares into my eyes—my glowing yellow eyes.
The room starts to shake and rumble. Poster frames clatter against the walls. Wind swirls.
Paige races past me and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me alone with Brock. The wind intensifies. Papers spin in a circle around the room. Objects slide off tables. My hand remains clenched around Brock’s throat.
“What the hell?” he chokes.
Paige emerges from the bathroom, shaking a pharmacy vial and dumping the contents into her open palm. Bless her soul—she marches through the routine like we’ve practiced so many times before. She shoves three pills in my mouth then clamps down my jaw as if giving medicine to a dog. Her grip is strong, and she keeps my head still.
“Chew!” she orders.
I’m in enough control to bite the tablets and taste the bitter chalk as it starts to dissolve. I tuck the crumbs under my tongue. Then Paige releases my jaw and gets to work peeling my fingers off Brock’s neck. The clock is ticking. My mouth tingles as my body slowly absorbs the medicine.
“Darcy!” Paige shouts. “You have to let go!”
I let go. Brock crumbles to the ground, gasping for air.
“Run!” she orders.
Brock remains still, unable to take his eyes off me—a deer in my headlights. Paige yanks Brock to his feet. This time, he doesn’t resist as she pushes him across the room and to the door.
“What the hell is happening?” he rasps.
With a final push, Paige shoves Brock through the doorway and into the hall.
“What is she?” he asks as she slams the door in his face.
I watch all this unfold as
