(Flashback)
Dr. Aimery growled and slammed his fist on his desk. The envelope atop the pile of paperwork had a U.S. Government seal on it. The letter declared their rejection of his proposal and included almost a mockery of his 'beliefs'. He raked a shaky hand through his greying hair. If they think they have the ability to stand between humanity and the future of science, they've got another thing coming. Standing, he paced around his office. "I have to find another subject... Who could I use to prove the 'custom mutation of genes' without the risk of the political princes running me down?" He shook with fury and wrenched his head back with a roar of rage. Suddenly, the intercom beeped.
"Dr. Aimery? Your daughter is here. Shall I send her in?" For a moment, he sighed with irritation, she always showed up at the most inconvenient times; but then, a cruel, evil smile crept on his lips and he pressed the return button on the machine.
Slowly, he spoke. "Darla... Tell her to meet me in the operating room, please."
-
Quinn Aimery stepped timidly into the room where her father stood, grinning behind a table of sterilized tools. She slumped into a chair. Unzipping her backpack, she took out a book to read. She had aced another test and was preparing for the next one. Her teachers were always talking about her potential. She could grow up to go to Harvard, or Princeton; but Oxford was more her style... When the time came, she would get as far away from this place as possible. Hearing footsteps, she peeked up from the pages. She gulped and rubbed her throat. It had been a few days since he had last strangled her, but the aching pain hadn't left yet. She shuddered as she heard his gentle, sickening voice. "Get up, Quinn. Come with me." Her headstrong attitude perked up involuntarily.
"Why?" She mentally slapped herself. In the corner of her eye, she saw a table with straps on it.
"Don't you give me attitude, little wench! Obey your father!" With a fright, she stood up. Shaking, she was pulled by her arm over to the table. He shoved her onto it and started tightening the straps over her. She wriggled and strained.
"Wh-what are you doing? Let me go!" Ignoring her, he turned to the tools. Before she knew it, she was covered in tape and stuck all over with IVs and different monitors and a myriad of suckers on her head, chest, and arms were connecting her to a computer. He picked up a bottle of clear, slightly greenish liquid and filled a syringe with the stuff. He clicked a few buttons on a keyboard and turned some dials. A hologram of a girl with enormous wings popped up on the desk. Her father nodded approvingly to the desk, and then turned back to her. Leaning over her, his hand went around her neck.
Smirking coldly, he pointed to the girl with wings. "You see that, my dear? You are going to be the symbol of the future of science." He stuck the needle in her arm and emptied the liquid into her bloodstream. He removed the syringe and didn't bother to clean the trickle of blood from the punctured skin. He walked to the monitors and flicked a few switches. She didn't pay much attention to him anymore.
Instead, she felt fire burn all through her body and she writhed on the table. She gasped and cried out from the pain, but no one would help her. No one cared. Flames focused on her shoulder blades now, and she saw the straps on the table press against her until they busted off. She rolled off the tall table, but couldn't sense the impact. Her back burned and her shoulder blades bent and stretched. A weight began pressing her to the ground. Fighting back, she flipped onto her back and saw her father standing there, wide-eyed at the torn restraints. No thought passed through her head as she lunged for him, pinning him, effortlessly to the ground.
"What have you done to me?! Make it stop!" She saw fear in his eyes and he shook, frantically.
"I can't, Quinn... I can't do anything!"
Her eyes darkened and her hands went around his throat. "Make! It! Stop! Now!" She shouted over and over again, shaking him hard. Tears stung her eyes. The pain was unbearable. She screamed and fell over. The world went white.
-
Quinn opened her eyes. Lights were flickering in her face and she heard muffled voices. Raising her head, the words became clear. "Put your hands behind your head and kneel on the ground!" She saw men in SWAT uniforms surrounding her. Looking to her side, she saw her father. He was still as stone and blood was oozing out his nose and mouth. "You! Put your hands-" She obeyed and stared at the body. He was dead. She had killed her own father. Her hands left her head and covered her face. She was a murderer. "I said 'hands on your head'! That is your last warning!"
She roared and tackled the nearest man. Him down, she saw the door and ran. Outside the door was a window that looked out on the third level's view. Instinct took over and she broke through the window, shattering the glass. Falling, she saw visions of her most haunting childhood memories; her mother's death, her father's abusive behavior, and the long, agonizingly lonely years without comfort and love. Streaks of white clouded her vision. She was 100 feet in the air, wings open, and flying. A moment of terror passed before the overwhelming sense of freedom released all her worries and stress. The world seemed to melt away and she felt more care-free than she ever had. Closing her eyes, she felt peace. The peace ended in blackness.
