Glory

i'm the one with Ghosts in my bed; but they only come alive at night

       "Does this always happen? " I asked Lydia as we drove through Beacon Hills. "Actually yes. But not like that. Not with that many people around. " she said. "Somethings wrong..." she whispered. Her fingers were white, from gripping the steering wheel. "I know, I can feel it." I replied. I pulled down the visor to look at my ghastly reflection. My pale skin was snow white against the black blood that was splattered up the right side of my face, and pure black from the neck down over my exposed shoulder. The dress was completely torn over my arm and torso, there was a long dark red cut over my midsection. But it wasn't severe. I had a busted lip and a gash over my forehead, near my temple. Bruises were forming over my arms and down my thighs. "Im sorry about the dress." I said. She smiled and waved it off. "It looked better on you anyways." I returned the smile. "Are you hurt?" her tone serious. "Nothing that won't kill me. I'll be Ok. Just some healing paste. " I said. "Healing paste?" she asked. "My mom was into healing and witchcraft. " I said. "Was?" she said, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. "was..." I whispered. "You asked me if I had screamed. Like you knew something was wrong." she said. "How did you know?"
"My sister was a banshee. Like you. But she saw things. Like visions, I always knew she was hearing or seeing something by her face. You made the same face." I said. "What happened to her?" she asked. "I don't talk about Hera. " I responded. "Hera? A lot of Greek Mythology in your family. " she said lightening the mood. "My dad loved mythology. My two other brothers and my other sister had them too. Aries and Hermes, Hermes was Hera's twin. And then it was me and and Aphrodite. But I'm the only child of my fathers with Shakespearian name. My mother loved it, he resented it." I said, looking out the window.

The water was hot against my sore skin. I watched the water turn black and eventually wash away. The night flashed if bits over my eyes, it all went wrong so fast. Lydia said this didn't happen. Not like this.
I put on a T-shirt and some underwear and instantly hit the computer, I googled and binged everything I could on the new and old police reports for Beacon Hills in the last several years. Nothing. Cover ups.

I walked down stairs to greet Chris. He was sitting at the round kitchen table. He was at his daily ritual, reading a news paper. "Tell me about Kate. " I said. I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms. "You were always one to confront." he replied. "Why do you want to know more?" he said, putting down his newspaper he looked me in the eyes. "Because those Berserkers are Kate's pets than she clearly had control of them. She caused this." I said. Chris kept poker face. "So tell me. What happened to her." I said. He sighed. "Might as well you know. Kate, Allison and I were on a hunt for Peter, we found him, in th e act of bringing him down he managed to unarm Kate and used his claws to slit her throat. In front of Allison." he said. "It changed her. The Kate I knew wouldn't have ever put so many kids in danger." I said. "Shes not Kate." he replied.
"Was it the transistion?" I asked. Chris looked at me with an odd curiosity. "Father had me study the wolf transformation, along with other supernaturals." I said, walking over to the chair across from him. "why did he have you study that...particular subject?" he asked, he had put down the news paper like I had his undivided attention. "To show us that the unnatural transistion-like a wolf-would and could completely change someone." I swallowed. "Like Kate. You said shes not the same kate, then what is she? A wolf? Or a..." I said, leaning against the table waiting for his response.
"Shes some kind of Jaguar. Not a wolf." "How is that possible?! That isn't possible. Its apart of the code. Never become what you hunt..." I said. Swallowing the bitter taste of hate. "Kate was always vain...selfish even. She would have never killed herself." he spits venom. "Do you think she's responsible? " I asked. My hair was still damp and seeping through my shirt. "I don't know. Those berserkers were hers, but that wasn't her style. By the way...how did you kill it?" he asked. My mind went blank. "I don't know. The last thing I remember is going through the French doors and hearing a howl. Then it all went blank." I said "I can't remember anything. I remember throwing my knife at peter and riding with Lydia, but nothing else. I guess I just had a black out. I used to have them all the time when I was younger." I said. I got up and walked to the coffee pot. And poured myself some coffee. I don't really like coffee, but I needed something in my hands to stop them from shaking. "Yeah. I remember when those would happen." he said with a somber voice. I gave a final look to Chris and walked up stairs. Leaving my coffee on the counter.