The Entity.

Book One

"Just give her the pen, you idiots. How can you call yourself trainees?

"S-sheriff, we can't."

"What the hell do you mean you 'can't'?"

"Her blood pressure measures at BPM 183/119."

"..."

"She ingested the ink."

A pill had just been shoved down my throat. I do not remember what had happened. Nothing happened. Yet here I am, in an interrogation chamber with the overwhelming stench of flesh and mucus. They seem to fear me; I could sense their gazes quiver with vigilance every time we locked eyes. I wonder, is it due to my power or their own vulnerability?

Enticement washes over me every so often that happens, as if my hunger feeds off human dread. The pride it brings compares to a cub's first hunt; the distinct feeling of superiority over their prey strives them to maintain vanity until it becomes a forceful craving for more. More, more.

Consequently, boundless to overcome—addicting a soul to its grounds where mercy is deemed fugitive. It compels us until bones shatter and lunacy emerges, to continue our quest; to remain restless until anything that obstructs the way is extinguished to just a feeble spark.

Chapter two

I abruptly had woken up. Again.

Melatonin. They had drugged me with melatonin, so their meagre minds felt as if there was not anything to fear. It made me chuckle.

Protection was the last thing to be expected from me, a sense of security that reneged long before my arrival. Fate had cursed this calaboose of my infernal presence.

For as long as the entity exists within me, calamity will strike upon anything that dares to disturb my progress.

Speaking of progress, a pile of folders lay opposite the clichéd, thane windows.

Bright red in colour; reminiscent of a memory I do not recall, although it profoundly comforts me. The vivid touch of sleek leather was adequate to make me flick through a few of the pages.

A bangle slid through one of the moldy files, landing on my lap. Slipping the dainty piece of silver onto my wrist, the vibrant red pentagon refuged within me. It pulsed with an intensity, inviting me to join it on its endless glory as if it relates with the gleam of intimidating flaunts. The creature within the patterns whispered its admiration for me, how desperately my contentment was to be awaited.

Chapter three

"Do you remember anything that happened in the last 66 hours?"

It had been an officer. His azurite eyes seemed to interpret him as an open book; a transparency vulnerable to exploitation.

"No."

"You were unconscious for 4 hours in your car until a concerned young couple noticed, ma'am. Do you recall that happening?"

"I already told you, I don't remember anything."

It hadn't fully been honest, yet I felt as though I sought to clarify why it had occurred within the first place.

"Okay, no need to stress; we will just do a quick blood test to determine if you had alcohol in your system in the past 36 hours. Do you want to declare anything?"

"Are you trying to suggest I was drunk driving?"

"Of course not, ma'am. I apologize for my wording, but what I meant to state is, it is policy that we regulate a person first before continuing on with the examination."