The Mystical's Whisper

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Chapter Eleven:Who am I?

Seeing the light at the end of the hallway that seemed to go on forever, I had a premeditated speech of what I would say to the man that took me from my home, and a plan of action as to what I would do to the pieces of filth that had stripped me bare.

But reaching the cathedral-like lounge, I was met with the gentle, aged eyes of an old man, wearing a long navy robe; my father, a woman and the gorilla-like men all hidden behind him.
Seeing them all in one place was the catalyst
My power flared, and the vilest of thoughts ran through my mind, as I imagined the ape-like men being dismantled limb from limb.

I was scared stiff, at the mental images of my own gruesome thoughts. Even though I did seek revenge, this was not who I was. I would never be able to live with myself.
I tried to make the thoughts towards my father and the men stop, but I couldn't.
It was like I was possessed!
The way they coward behind the man with the robe, fed the evil that possessed me- blackening my soul bit by bit and despite the euphoria I felt before, I began  to realise, that I was more powerless than ever before.

Both my father and the two henchmen began wailing in pain as my fists balled at my sides; their eyes bulging from their sockets as they clutched their heads. Rushing to my father’s aid was a woman long caramel curls.
“Stop, please I’m begging you!!” She pleaded, falling to her knees as she cradled my father who was convulsing with pain.
I wanted to, I wanted to make it stop so badly, but the burning sensation just grew, like a wildfire it spread, erupting within me.
I managed a pleading look at the old man, who looked calm and collected despite what was going on around him; carefully studying me from underneath his shaggy white eyebrows.  Although hard to explain, I could feel the power he possessed, and even though he had a lot of it- he had manage to keep it perfectly under control. What was even stranger as the fact that he did nothing to stop it, but this thought too, just built on my rage.
Every emotion and energy in the room seemed to ripple through me in a way that felt like I had a sixth sense for it, and uncontrollable sense that unlike sight, smell or hearing couldn’t be blocked.
The wailing progressively worse got worse as the burning sensation in my chest did. Clutching his head my father curled up into a foetal position - his eyes pleading, as he searched aimlessly for a fragment of good within me; which was encaged by the whirlwind of burning rage.
"Mila" he croaked desperately.
"I'm so..."
But his pleading was cut short…
Blood ran from his ears, eyes and nose, as he blacked out before he could finish his sentence. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of the pleading look in his familiar, yet aged jade- green eyes.
I still loved my father, and even though I still resented him; his mistakes never really changed that fact.

The henchmen however started a much worse fate as the sound of joints popping from their sockets filled the room. Wailing, I could feel the immense pain they were feeling, but the evil side to me that had taken over lavished in it, it was fuelling the sense of power this evil that possessed me felt. But despite this sense of euphoria- it wasn’t who I am.
All I wanted was for it to stop.
"Please… End this…" I managed to yelp pleadingly at the old man, the little fragment of good I had left in me, managing to surface for mere seconds.

With a sympathetic expression, the old man started to utter words that were incomprehensible; but made me feel the way I felt just before I had turned the clock to ash.

The room was spinning again, but this time all the good memories I had with my father played through my mind.
Falling to my knees sobbing, I remembered all the stories in front of the fireplace, the smell of his leathery aftershave, the goodnight kiss he gave me every night, as he tucked me into bed.

Everything became dead silent once again.

I could feel the power drain from me as I lied motionless on the deep green shaggy carpet, my vision transitioning clear to blurry, just barely being able to witness my father crawling to my side.
I wanted to speak to him, to ask him if I had hurt him; but I felt so tired...

Blinking twice more it was too hard to hold consciousness, and I blacked out being consumed by an abyss of darkness.

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