The ride home was silent. I tried to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother. Her collapsed body, her blonde hair streaked with red, her eyes still open. And I cried.

When we arrived, Shane carried me into the bathroom and laid my fully clothed body into the tub. He took a knife and ran it through my pants, slicing the fabric and easing it from my body. Next was my shirt. I didn't care. I didn't even care enough to cover myself.

He held a syringe in his hand. "For the pain." His eyes searched mine, asking for permission. "I know you don't feel it right now. But the adrenaline is wearing off. We need to administer the meds before the pain takes over." I simply nodded. He gently took my arm, found my vein, and stuck me, slowly pushing the plunger down and sending a rush of morphine into my body. A wave of heat hit my chest, followed by a pressure which slowly dissipated.

He took the opportunity to began cleaning my legs. The wounds were open and pink tissue glistened where the pipe had torn through my flesh. He poured rubbing alcohol over them and I screamed, tears rolling down my face. He squeezed my hand. "Take a breath." I tried and failed before he poured more alcohol into my hair, my scalp burning profusely under the sterilizing liquid. I was thankful for the morphine.

He talked me through the things he did, from applying a localized numbing agent to stitching me up. He used a bucket of warm water and a cloth to clean the dust, dirt, and blood from my hair and body. I watched as his hands moved gently and gracefully over my body. I felt detached.

Once that was done and the sobs had finished coursing through my body, he gave me another dose of morphine and I helped him remove my undergarments. He handed me my pajamas after wrapping my calves in bandages and pulling my hair up and away from the gash in my head. I gently wriggled into the pajama pants, laying on my back on the bed. Once my shirt was on, I arranged the pillows so I could sit up and got comfortable.

Shane sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at me, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"I'm sorry." His eyes dropped as he said it, and his hands fidgeted in his lap.

"I'm not," was all I said. He nodded. "I... I need to be alone," I whispered. He left a brief kiss on my forehead before leaving the room.

I fell apart. Silently, hot tears rolled down my bruised face as I prayed to a God I could never believe in, begging for death. I wasn't even sure why I felt that way. I had succeeded. My father was dead, by my own hand. Payback was a bitch.

But somehow, revenge was not sweet to me. It tasted like salt, harsh and bitter. That night, I fell into a restless sleep, aided only by the morphine.

The next week was mind-numbing.

Shane routinely brought me food (which I rarely attempted to eat), water bottles, and my favorite sodas. He would stay by my side for a few moments in silence, as had become routine.

However, eventually, he walked into the room holding an envelope. "It's from the agency." His eyes were concerned and his stance was unsure.

I grabbed it from him, ripped it open, and held my breath as I began to read.

Federal Bureau of Supernatural Entity Containment and Defense

This letter is official government correspondence, and should not be opened, viewed, or received by anyone other than Agent Cara L. Deel, employee designation: Field Agent H-051895.

Such interception is punishable by law.

Agent Deel,

Due to recent developments and the elimination of the demonic entity known as Thomas Leonard Deel, your biological father, your presence is requested at your assigned "safehouse", designated as Building 349-Bravo. An assessment team will be awaiting your arrival at the below date and time. Testing will be carried out to determine your risk factor. A reminder that this is a direct order and insubordination will result in termination.

Our sincere condolences for your loss, and thank you for your service.

Signed and filed,

Administrator R. W. Holstead

I glared at the paper. At the bottom was a handwritten date, followed by a time.

Shit.

"Shane, pack." He nodded and began stuffing things into bags.

"Your car is back home, I had it towed. You'll ride with me."

"Alright."

He stared at me for a moment, pity obvious on his face. I wanted to scream. I didn't need pity, I needed someone to believe in me.

The drive home was long and uneventful. Twisted roads and streetlights made my head spin, and I slept most of the way there.

We didn't even make it all the way up the driveway before I was forcefully ripped out of the car by men in black suits. Their rough hands gripped my shirt collar and shoulders, throwing me into a black SUV and handcuffing me. Shane stood helpless in the driveway, and I watched from behind tinted windows as Hank ran out of the house, followed by my brother.

I felt a sharp pain in my neck, and everything went black.

I wasn't sure how long I was out.

When I came to, I grunted. This blacking out shit is getting old, I thought to myself. I felt sore and stiff. The room was cold. I hadn't opened my eyes yet and I could already tell that I was in headquarters.

"She's waking up," said a monotone female voice. "Alert the team."

"Yes sir," affirmed a male speaker. Sigh. Always so formal.

I opened my eyes. The chair was polished stainless steel, as was the table. I was cuffed to the table, with a leather strap at my neck holding my body erect in the chair. My ankles were fitted with similar straps.

A tall woman entered the room, and I immediately felt uneasy. There was something about her presence that demanded respect. I admired it, but it made my skin crawl. Her gray pinstripe suit was fitted and she wore a plain blue shirt under it, which was was unbuttoned just enough to hint at cleavage. Her silver hair hit her shoulders in a sharp angle. Her irises were an ocean, glints of gold reflecting in the blue pools like sunlight on a summer day. Her lips were pale though, and the bags under her eyes hinted at long periods of sleep deprivation.

"Agent Deel. I'm -"

"Administrator Holstead." Her eyes slightly narrowed as I finished her sentence. Even so, no wrinkles were to be found on her face. Odd. Her hair would have one to believe that she was of advanced age. Maybe stress was the culprit of her premature grays.

"Yes. We appreciate your prompt response to our letter." She took a seat in front of me.

"Cut the crap, Holstead. What do you want?" I demanded. She grinned.

"Ever the charmer. You think you're smart. It isn't that simple, Cara." She leaned back and sighed. My fingers twitched on the table. "You see, you're a bit of a mystery to us. Your father is - my apologies - was - one of the most powerful demons we have ever analyzed. Lab results from samples of his remains gathered from the warehouse showed high amounts of
ectoplasmic decay, which tells us that not only was he so powerful that his chosen human form could not sustain his true self, but that he was capable of automatic spiritual suppression and revitalization. Do you understand what that means?"

"He was old. Like, biblical. And he had the ability to leave part of himself within his host while removing the majority of his essence, allowing his skin suit to heal before it deteriorated completely. He was also capable of recurrent healing processes within not only his other-dimensional form, but his human host as well," I translated, glaring at her.

"You're smart. Good. It also means that unique traces of his true form could be found inside the tissues and cells of his human host - basically, he bound himself to the body, and intertwined their beings. Which also means the human's reproductive cells may have been compromised. Which means in turn, that you could have traces of a demonic entity in your body. Which would explain why simple warded bullets, fired by you, were able to neutralize a level six demon. Unfortunately we don't have a way to test this while you are living, and killing you isn't an option - we need you alive for reasons you will learn, should you pass our tests - but there is... another way."

My skin began to crawl as soon as she finished talking. This wouldn't be pleasant. And I had no choice but to undergo the testing.

"Tell me what I have to do and cut the formalities."

"We are going to break you. In every way imaginable. We are going to put you through pain you have never felt before, which should force whatever abilities you could possibly have to surface in the name of self perseverance. Then we decide how to move forward."

My stomach went cold. It was like someone had force-fed me ice cubes. I looked at the table and slowly nodded.

"Well. Let's get started."