Caleb has switched out of ghost story mode, there’s a slight quaver in his voice when he says, “I could feel her hands around my throat. Cold, and strong like iron. It was too strong…” he grimaces and I look down at my hands. I had felt a kind of wild power that I’d dredged up from the anger.

“Creepy.” Ben shivers.

“Nothing but bad dreams,” Larry scoffs, and Caleb whips around in his seat and glares at him. “Shut up, Larry. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t test me, man. Remember what I told you.”

My eyes light up, hoping for another fight. Hoping that the two alpha dogs will take one another out. But Caleb just rolls his eyes and shrugs bad temperedly, and they go back to playing cards.

As they play their third game and keep drinking, Caleb is slowly staring to relax. I’m in the kitchen now, checking out the window over and over, chewing on my nails anxiously. The sun is slowly climbing down towards the trees. The site of the forest behind the house makes me feel sick. Sam is there by the river waiting for me, slowly fading into nothingness. But it’s getting dark, they might decide to kill Nakia any minute now. I can’t let it happen. I’ve got to do something before it’s too late.  I turn towards the den as a burst of laughter reaches me, feeling a wave of anger crash through my body. How can they laugh? My hand slams down on the counter, and shocks me by making contact. The dull thud stops the laughter, and someone asks, “What was that?”

“Just Nakia trying to get out,” Caleb’s voice rumbles from next door.

A smile is curling the corners of my mouth, and suddenly I know exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to make myself angry enough to bash the basement door open and drag Nakia to safety. I have to at least try. More laughter and clinking from next door makes me frown. If they hear her escaping they’ll go after her. I have to get rid of them somehow. When I drift back into the den the boys are staring dejectedly at a number of empty beer bottles on the table and arguing about who has to go for a beer run.

“Come on,” Caleb wheedles. “Ben or Derrek can go get it, right?”

“No.” Larry is leaned back in his chair with one hand behind his head. He shakes a finger at Caleb like he’s scolding a naughty child. “Ah, ah. We came here to do you a favor because you called us. We’re good friends. Now it’s your turn to repay us. Beer is on you tonight, my man.”

Caleb grumbles, but he stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of the wooden chair, shrugging into it he grabs the keys from his pocket and shakes them at Larry. “Fine. Who’s going with me?”

“Scared to go by yourself?” Larry asks mockingly, and Caleb glares at him and stomps out of the room. “Fine, I’ll get you your beer, jack-ass!”

Larry laughs and folds both hands behind his head. “You’re a gentleman and a scholar, you know that?”

The door slamming loudly is his only answer, and Larry laughs again. They go back to their game, after he peeks at the cards Caleb had.  I stand there staring at them, working up a good head of anger, allowing the dark clouds of rage to build up into a full-fledged storm.

Silently I address Larry, turning my full attention to him. There’s something about him that makes my stomach twist violently. He’s hard. He’s evil.

You did this to me.

Something begins to happen. It begins to build up in the pit of my stomach first, an angry humming energy that gathers in on itself. The snake inside me is writhing, pulsing with the need to lash out. An unseen wind whips through my hair, and my blouse blows out around me, tickling my skin. At the table, Ben looks up, his brown eyes wide, “Shit, did it just get really cold in here?” He rubs at his arms and Derrek does the same. “Yeah, man. I’m freezing.”

            “Furnace must have broke.” Larry is still looking down at his cards, unconcerned. Ben exchanges a worried glance with Derrek. Their breath is suddenly coming in puffs of silver mist that hang in the air above them.

            “What the hell…” Ben stands up, and that’s when the dark energy engulfs me. It feels like a punch in the chest, knocking the wind out of my body. My arms fly out and my head tilts back when it hits me. I gasp in shock, and all around me the house shakes violently. Cracks are appearing in the walls, traveling up the ceiling like spider webs.

            Larry, Ben and Derrek sit frozen in their chairs. Eyes wide with shock. At first they don’t move while the house vibrates around them. Then Larry bolts out of his chair and tries to run forward, but the ground is bucking under his feet, and he falls forward onto his stomach, hands outstretched toward the door. The shaking calms a little, and Ben and Derrek spring out of their chairs. They run right by Larry, stumbling towards the exit.

            I don’t think so.

I slam the door shut with a wave of one hand. I am in the center of the room, standing with my arms outstretched, laughing like a maniac. The rage and darkness bubbling up inside me like black tar. Larry scrambles to his feet, face chalky. He says shakily, “Earthquake…”

            “No!” I scream. “You will hear me! You will acknowledge me!” The wind whips through me, lending strength to my words, and my voice bellows from me like a thousand different people shouting at once. It’s exhilarating. I can’t stop my lips from peeling back in an excited snarl. A skull’s death grin. All three of the boys flinch back as if they’ve been physically struck. I leap forward and place both palms on the underside of the poker table, heaving with all my strength. They cry out, falling backwards as the table flips twice, crashing into the far wall, the cheap wood splintering, the beer bottles shattering in a chaotic tangle of noise. They cower in the corner, three pairs of wide eyes fixed on me. The knowledge that they can see me swells my chest with vicious joy. I tip my head back and let the feeling rush over me. “Finally! Finally you can see me! Finally you can see what you’ve done to me.”

            Larry scrambles to his feet, heading for the door. The room blurs as I take a step forward, crossing to him in an instant. I smash him against the wall and hold him there, fingers twisted in his shirt, growling in his face. My other hand is drawn to his neck like a magnet. To his fragile throat, where the pulse of life beats in shallow rhythm like the flutter of moth wings. How easy it would be to snuff out his life.

All it takes is a gentle pressure and he’s gasping for air like a fish. His eyes are huge, wild with terror. Larry’s heels drum a fast staccato on the wall as he kicks frantically, suspended and helpless. And inside me it writhes and twists in hatred. Swallowing whatever I feed it. Grasping for more. Growing. I have never experienced an emotion like this. Something that makes me want to snap his neck, to pull the organs from his body. To string the house with his intestines like Christmas garlands. I want to hurt him over and over. Watch his face as he dies, witness blood bubble from his mouth and hear the death rattle as the last of his air seeps from his lungs.

            “This is all your fault,” I scream in his face. “Your fault! Your fault! Look what you did to me! Look what you did!”

A strangled whimper comes from his mouth, and Larry’s eyes dart to something just past my right shoulder. My head snaps around, eyes pinning Ben and Derrek to the wall. They’re frozen just steps away from the door. The pure terror on their faces makes me wildly happy,

“What? You’re leaving?” I laugh. “But it’s just beginning. Stay and play cards with me!” The pressure is building in my chest again, and the wind howls in my ears, whipping my hair back. It sends the scattered playing cards flying towards them like a flock of black and red birds. “We can play fifty-two pick up. Won’t that be fun?”

            I must look mad, eyes rolling back, chest heaving, hair whipping around like black tentacles. Derrek actually crumples in on himself, his knees folding underneath him. His palms hit the floor and he tries to hold himself up, refusing to look at me.

            I turn my attentions back to Larry, to the insect I’ve pinned to the wall for inspection. I’m pressing harder now, getting a savage thrill from the horrible gasping and retching noises he’s making. His face is turning bright red, almost a mottled purple. His eyes bulge grotesquely in his sockets. Not long now. It won’t take long.

            The drumming of his feet grows quieter, his thrashing struggles are getting weaker. The darkness inside urges me to press harder. It’s longing to taste blood. This is so easy.

Suddenly a faint banging sound starts up from the kitchen again, jolting me back to earth. Nakia. The shock makes me drop him and step back, uncurling my fingers from his shirt, and Larry slumps to the ground, coughing and gagging. Wheezing as he draws in air desperately, hands on his throat. I stare down at him in confusion. I almost killed him.

I look down at my hands in shock, half expecting to see they’d grown scales or the fingertips would be smeared with blood. But they were my hands, stubby fingers and short unattractive nails, a freckle on the middle finger. My hands. I’d been about to kill someone just now. Me, not some unknown source inside of me. Me, Breanna. What’s happening to me?

            I whirl around and scream at the boys, more upset with myself than anything right now.

 “Get out! Get out of my house, now!”

They run, scrambling frantically to get out the door. Larry and Ben actually run into one another on their way out, and Derrek’s arms and legs flail as he tries to pull himself to his feet and propel himself forward at the same time. Finally they’re gone, swearing and sweating and slamming the door behind them. I walk into the kitchen, still nursing the anger, letting it continue to grow. I’ll need it. My voice is still in stereo when I stop in front of the basement door and call, “Nakia, get back from the door!” A faint shuffle from behind the door, and then a small voice says in amazement, “Bree?”

            “I’m breaking down the door,” I say, frustrated. We don’t have time for shock and awe. Caleb will be back from the store any minute. I collect the anger and force it into use, surrounding myself with it, cloaking myself in darkness. I run at the door, slamming my shoulder into it with all the force I can muster, and instead of running through it my shoulder connects, slamming into the wood with shuddering impact. The door splinters with a crack, but it’s still standing in the way, so I come at it again, anger fueled by panic. This time it crack and rips away at the hinges, and I dart forward and catch the largest piece of it before it can barrel down the stairs and land on Nakai.

            “Bree, it’s you,” Nakai is huddled at the bottom of the stairs, clutching her blood matted temple, eyes wide and full of tears. “Oh my god, it really is you.”

            “Come on,” I try to keep my voice low, but even so her eyes widen when she hears the multiple voices. I want to let go of the anger so I don’t scare her, but I can’t. I can’t be powerless if he shows up now. “Caleb is gone for now, but you only have minutes.” Inspiration strikes me, “You have to get to my parents house. Tell them everything. He’s planning to kill you.”

            Nakai grimaces. “I’m so stupid,” she reaches one shaking hand up and grabs the railing, hauling herself up to stand on shaky legs. “I don’t deserve to be rescued.”

            “Hurry,” I say impatiently. “He’ll be back soon. Go to my parent’s house. Go!”

            Nakia grunts in pain. Climbing the stairs is clearly an effort. Her face is pale as chalk, and with ever step she takes it seems like she’s about to pitch over backwards and fall back down the stairs. “My head hurts,” She mumbles. “I’m so dizzy.”

            I motion her forward frantically. “Go!”

            But still she lingers, and I realize the wide eyed look she’s giving me is fear. She’s afraid to pass too close to me.

            I back out of the stairwell, grinding my teeth together anxiously, listening for the sound of his car in the driveway. Nakia continues to climb, foot falls heavy on the stairs. Everything is silent for now, there’s no sound of a car pulling in, no door slamming. Should I go down and try to help pull her up? No, obviously that’s not an option if she’s afraid of me. She’s doing it though, slowly, one painful step at a time. After what seems like an eternity she’s at the top of the stairs, heading for the back door.

            “Can you make it down the porch steps?” I say, and she nods, shutting her eyes and grimacing. “I have to, I’ll try.”

            I drift after her, watching anxiously as she staggers down the wooden stairs and onto the lawn. I watch her make her way slowly into the forest, towards my parent’s house. She’s limping, but her steps have picked up a bit. It’s tempting to go after her, make sure she doesn’t fall. And the thought occurs to me that Sam –my Sam – is so close to fading. I should check on him, make sure he’s still there waiting for me. The thought that he might already be gone makes my stomach twist with dread. But I know I can’t let Caleb get to Nakia. Staying here and making sure he doesn’t go after her is the most logical course of action. How long will it take for her to get to my parents? Anxiety gnawing at my stomach, I pace back and forth over the kitchen tiles.   

            A car door slams outside, making my head snap up, my hands seem to be twisting at each other out of their own accord. I’m jittering like a cokehead without a fix, can’t hold still for a second. What will he do when he comes in? Will he know where she’s gone?