Rampage [BK#1 in Dark Creatures]

Switch

     My name is Isabella Sanchez. I go by Bex. I am seventeen. And I am a monster.

     Nobody knows my secret. Not even my parents. They're dead, actually. I've been in and out of foster homes since I was nine, the year they died in a fire. I'm not really a family person. When you're life sucks as bad as mine, it's best not to get close to people. Safer.

     Today is October 31st, 2016. Yes, it's Halloween. I'm not going out, obviously. Gonna lock myself up somewhere. I try not to associate with people. It's hard to trust yourself around other people when at any moment you could switch.

     That's what I call it. Switching. Like On or Off. Right now, I'm on Off. I'm me. Bex. There are three things in life that bring me joy: food, sleep, and food. I have no life. I am a total loser, and that's okay. No one sees me, no one talks to me. I'm invisible. I don't exist.

     Then there's the On switch. My switches started happening right after my parents died. I think the loss I felt afterward was some kind of trigger, but I don't know for sure.

     When I'm On, it's like I'm not... Me... Anymore. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. It doesn't make sense. But just... Bear with me here, okay?

     I find myself separating, splitting into two. Like, have you ever taken a tissue and stuck your fingernail in between the layers and just peeled them apart? That's what this is like. I'm being peeled away from my body. And then I watch myself switch. I turn into this rabid, bloodthirsty animal. I tear apart anything within a thirty-foot radius, including people. It's not pretty. I know what you're thinking: why don't you just kill yourself? Well, that's the catch. I can't. Trust me, I've tried. I slit my throat and everything. But, thanks to whatever monster lives inside me, I can't die. I woke up the next morning, soaked in gallons of my own dry blood, the skin of my neck perfectly smooth.

     So, what do I do? I run. Always. I'm not in and out of foster homes because I'm an emotionally-challenged kid in denial or whatever those Hollywood movies like to make up. I run because I have to. I run because if I don't, people die.

    I live alone, by myself. I have no one to talk to. And I don't really like the idea of... You know... Not existing. There's nothing on this planet to remember me by except for my contributions to the death count and feces in the Nutrient Cycle. Even my foster care file is eventually going to be deleted. 

    So, for those of you weirdos who discovered this book and actually want to continue reading into what I like to call Bex's Book of Hell, go for it. I can't promise it'll have a happy ending, though.