A Supernatural Novella : Chance

CHAPTER 4 : SILAS CONNLANDS POV

8 Years. 8 years, that's how long I spent looking for my Fathers murderers. They took everything from me. My home, my family, my Father. I lived like vermin in the sewers, living off rats and other scarcitities in the darkness, planning, plotting, and hunting against the Father and Daughter who took my life from me. I remembered how it was all those years ago, living in fear and humiliation of what I was, I was afraid that people would find out what we were and shun us and be disgusted by us, just like my bitch Mother.

I looked in the mirror at my reflection; I didn't see myself, obviously. No, Charlie Pucker stared back at me.

Charlie was handsome, to say the least, he had black hair and brown eyes; he was handsome enough to be vain but also normal enough to fit into a crowd. Charlie had a girlfriend, Poppy, she was a sexy little thing, and she didn't even know that it wasn't Charlie ploughing his dick into her every night – technically.

Impersonating Charlie was easy at first but now it's become exhausting! How could anyone be that stupid?

After taking his identity for the passed weeks here in Madison, I've grown bored and tired and even considered breaking up with his girlfriend just for something fun to do.

But Poppy Williams was way too hot for me to break up with her and she was smart, funny and beautiful, way too good for Charlie and his manly stupidity.

I looked at myself in the eyes.

I began to fume at all the horrid things people would say and do when they found what I am, what I'm capable of. Their voices rang in my head, over and over and over again.

Freak. Monster. Abomination. Alien. Weirdo. Circus monkey. Frankensteins Monster.

Over and over again, but what stung the most was the dead bitch's words.

"We're all freaks. I can't bear to look at this... this... Ugly piece of shit! He isn't my son. I hate the fact that I have to look at that deformed animal!!" All I remember was the shimmer of the knife before she pulled it over my head so she could stab me.

The next thing I knew, she was choking on her own blood as my father stabbed her in the stomach, the sickening sound the knife ripping through her flesh, over and over again, until he reached 60 stabs.

I watched as he stabbed the ungrateful bitch till the light left her eyes and her body bled out on the white kitchen tiles.

I hated her! I hated the people of this world! I hated the Charlie Puckers and the Poppy Williams' of this disgusting shit sick world! Everyone who had it easy because of their looks!

I could feel the outer layer that was Charlie, ripping itself from the flesh that was me. I pulled of the ear and then began ripping the skin off, piece by piece and throwing it in a pile until it was melted into a pile of decomposing matter. I screamed as Charlie perfect teeth and manicured nails began to fall off my body only to be replaced by my deformed, skew teeth and brittle finger nails.

The pain of the ripping was welcoming. It was better than the emotional pain of being an unwanted freak of nature.

I looked at the horrifying, stomach turning reflection of my true self. My skin appeared as though it was melted against my body, hooding my right eye so that one was bigger than the other. My nose missed a chunk compared to Charlie's perfect one.

My teeth were skew and yellow and razor sharp, the hair that I had grew wispy in patches on my head. I hated myself, I hated the way I looked, the way I lived, the life my Father drew me into all those years ago.

I hated my life. I don't blame the dead bitch for wanting to kill me but I also don't blame my Father for murdering her like the useless piece of shit she was.