1 The Start of it All

*BEEP BEEP BEEP!*

I slapped the alarm next to me before my eyes shot open, "Ah, shit..." I said, seeing the broken black plastic strewn across my bedside table, "They really need to make this stuff out of something harder, otherwise I'm gonna use up all my money on replacing them," I sighed, knowing full-well that it wasn't the alarm clock's problem that I had ridiculous strength.

...Yeah, I'm not physically normal, by the way. Found that out when I pushed a kid across a classroom for putting glue in my hair with a simple swat of my hand.

I was probably around 7 or 8 at the time and it was...terrifying. You'd think that discovering you were stronger, faster, harder than everyone around you would be fun or liberating...but it isn't. It only serves to make you feel like an outcast. Luckily, I had my mother and my father was still around back then. They told me what I was, and more importantly, what my father was.

He was a Half-Demon and I was therefore, 25% Demon and 75% Human. Though dad did mention that my powers were weirdly potent despite only being quarter Demon.

It was...shocking to find out. But it helped me grow closer to my father and my mother. My father through the training he put me through and my mother through the care she'd give me whenever I was injured. Despite the care being useless because of my healing factor, mom wouldn't take no for an answer. 'My baby boy will get bandaged by his mother or he won't be getting any dessert after tea' would be what she said to me. She was just as unreasonable as my dad, honestly. They were a perfect fit for one another.

Getting up, I stood in front of the full-length mirror I had in my room. Looking over the imposing figure reflected in it, I couldn't help but grimace at the training I needed to get where I am right now.

Tracings some scars with my fingers, I remembered what my father said to me when I apologized for getting hit or failing to pull off a technique/maneuver.

"Don't be sorry, be better, kid."

...And it's a motto I've lived by since.

Sadly smiling, I chuckled as I left the mirror and looked to the wardrobe next to it. I began to dress myself for the day of school, all while thinking about how the perfect life I had, one day, came crumbling down.

My mother...got really ill. Brain cancer, that spread all throughout her body like the vicious ailment it is. She died, peacefully, in her sleep with both my father and I at her side. I remember the moments before she fell asleep that night, and I realize that she knew it was going to happen as soon as she went to sleep. Looking back on it made it obviously clear. She pulled me into a hug, kissed my forehead and told me how much she loved me, that she hoped I could be more serious than dad, yet also more carefree and light-hearted than her before asking me to leave the room so she could speak to dad, alone.

By the time I was called back in by dad, mom was asleep, and we just sat there. All the way until she passed away.

I was 12 at the time, so I guess you can it was expected of me when I burst out in tears, gripping at the metal bars on her hospital bed and warping the metal like it was nothing. Dad pulled me back and hugged me so tight I felt like I was going to pop.

After that, we left, held a funeral for her...and then we left the state.

We moved from California to Michigan and my training with dad became incredibly intense. But I didn't hate him for it. I knew he was just scared of something happening to me, or it might have been his own way of coping with the death of mom. In some ways, the training and fighting was definitely one of my ways of coping.

But even then, that only kept up for 4 more years and then out of nowhere, dad disappeared. He left a note, telling me he'd left me something under the house but I could only take it from under there when I turned 18.

Which was today. Though I'd probably wait until after school to find out what he'd left.

Doing up my shoelaces, I sighed before standing up and walking off to the bathroom. Brushing my teeth, combing my consistently wild hair, then swilling some mouth wash around in my mouth was my morning routine but for the first time in a while, I found myself just looking at my face in the mirror.

Stark white, just like dad, and bright green eyes just like mom's. The only other thing I inherited off of dad would probably be the supernatural powers and my imposing height and frame. I was around 6'4" and because of a Demon's higher density, I weighed around 122kg despite having a compact and lean physique rather than a bulky one. Though that's not to say that my muscles don't fill out my frame or that I look slender and skinny - in my, vain and arrogant, yet honest opinion, my muscles are perfectly sized.

I'd also say that I have a pretty handsome face, though I do have a small scar on the right side of my jawline - got nicked by dad's sword when we were fighting back when I just started out training.

...Mom really gave him a telling off for that...Though all he did was laugh it off. The mad man probably came very close to getting beat to death by a normal human woman that day.

Scratching at my chin, I gave myself a nod before heading downstairs and walking out of the door. I head to get to the place the bus would be picking me up. If I missed it, I'd have to run to school and I don't exactly want to ruin my sneakers...Why do normal clothes have to fall apart so easily?

Shaking my head, I entered a brisk walk and headed to bus stop.

. . .

Sitting on the bus I leaned against the window and closed my eyes, trying to limit my senses so I didn't feel like I was eavesdropping on everyone's conversations. You'd think living a life with super senses would let you get used to them but that wasn't exactly the case. My senses only continue to get more sensitive and it's a pain in the ass to deal with.

It's only made worse by how prone I am to anger.

There's a constant voice in the back of my head telling me to just silence the people if they annoy me, but dad warned me against listening to that voice. Something about those who allow their anger to control them become nothing but anger and bloodlust.

Though it's a terrifying thought to think that killing everyone on this bus and then compacting the bus into a cube of metal with my bare hands...would take less than a minute.

Shuddering, I was brought out of my sense-control-meditation thingy, by someone sitting down next to me, and throwing a packaged good at my face.

With my reflexes it wasn't hard to catch it and see what it was.

A Twinkie.

Looking over at the person who threw a packaged twinkie at my face, I raised an eyebrow in question, only to see the pale girl who had thrown it, smile derisively before answering, "You never eat breakfast in the morning...so I gotta look after, like, my only friend, right?" her smooth, yet sardonic voice was accompanied by her laughing at my complicated expression.

"...This isn't a healthy breakfast," I said, looking at the sugary treat in front of me. What I said only seemed to set the girl off even more into her laughter, her black, bob-cut hair shuffling up and down with the rest of her body. Seems like she's put in more blue highlights again. Looks nice.

With her laughter coming to an end, she put a slender hand on my shoulder before looking at me with her pale green eyes, "You poor, poor boy, Evan - you stop yourself from eating so much nice stuff because it isn't 'healthy'," she held up her hands, doing air quotations before she rolled her eyes, "Live a little," she said before going to take the twinkie from my hand.

Smirking, I pulled it out of reach and putting on a mock innocent expression, "Hold on a minute, Rachel, I never said I wasn't willing to eat it. Just that it wasn't healthy," my innocent facade fell away seeing Rachel's deadpan expression and I started chuckling as I opened the plastic package and stuffed the overly sweet dessert into my mouth.

Laughing, Rachel shook her head at my antics, "You're such a jerk at times, you know, Evan?" she said before shuffling around in her seat.

This was Rachel Roth, a girl I got to meet for the first time when I moved here to Michigan. She was in my class and because people seemed to think she was a demon, no one sat next to her, and while I wouldn't deny there was something peculiar about her, I wouldn't call her weird or ugly. Especially the last part.

Why? Because she's stunningly pretty. She's a bit of a out-of-the-norm person when it comes to what she wears - what she wears being entirely black or similarly somber colors. I guess you could call it goth? Not too sure, honestly.

But that doesn't matter - her clothes don't really take away from her appearance. She's a smallish girl, in terms of height at least, probably only being around 5'2" or 5'3" at most. But boy, does she have curves and assets beyond what a girl of her height should probably have. I don't usually go around ogling girls but Rachel...she's a cut above the rest, honestly.

And that's if we're just talking about her body. Her face is probably the most beautiful thing about her. There's just very little imperfections on it, even with my enhanced vision I can barely see anything wrong with it. It's like it's the face of a princess or something.

No doubt my dad would approve if he knew she was my friend, the goddamn pervert.

I heard some weirdo breathing down our necks long before he decided to speak, "Yo, Rachel, wanna hang out or something after school?" I turned to look at him, his overall appearance being summed up by two words - messy and low-effort. Or could that be considered two words?

Oblivious to my thoughts, Rachel scoffed as she looked at him with a disdainful gaze, "And do what? What you feed your tarantula dead insects? Yeah, no thanks, Kyle," she scoffed before turning away from him. Hearing her pinpoint exactly what Kyle thought was a good time, I couldn't hold it in and let out a suppressed laugh.

Though it wasn't suppressed enough because the annoying fuck turned to me, angry and embarrassment growing in his eyes, "What are you laughing at, albino?" he spat, his remark obviously about my stark white hair.

But how could that get to me? I'm not a kid. So, rolling my eyes, I just shook my head before turning away. Kyle said something else but I just ignored him, knowing that if I did act against him, I'd seriously injure him...though I didn't know why. I had enough control on my strength, so how could I hurt him? Unless my instincts really came through and made me...

I sent a glance to Rachel, almost on instinct, before turning my gaze away. Was it because he tried to hit on Rachel? That'd be...weird. She's just my friend, right?

...Emotions, they're pretty annoying, huh?

. . .

"So, you wanna come in for a bit? We can order pizza or whatever," Rachel nonchalantly said, or at least tried to, but the second I heard pizza my higher brain functions went down the drain and I nodded quite rapidly, causing her to laugh at my expense, "You say all that stuff about healthy food but you're a real food junkie underneath it all, huh?" she quipped and I just smiled and shrugged.

I guess you'd have my father to blame. Whenever I was a kid and mom was at work, he'd order a fuck ton of pizza and with our demonic appetites...we'd eat all of it. That's what started the healthy food thing from my mom.

'I won't have another pizza-eating machine in this house!' was what she said before she started making super-healthy food.

...Dad went through some pizza withdrawal symptoms, that's for sure.

Shrugging, I scratched my cheek, a little embarrassed, "Just because I like it doesn't mean I shouldn't try and eat healthy, you know?" in answer to what I said, Rachel just shrugged with a smile before walking up to her door.

Following her, I suddenly had a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling.

As soon as the door was opened, I smelt it:

The fear flooding the air. I instantly heard two heartbeats near the back of he house. One of them erratically quick and the other so unnaturally slow that I didn't think it belonged to a human. As we walked toward the kitchen, I kept my guard up to the maximum I could. I felt my blood begin to rush as we entered the kitchen to see a bit of a mess.

"Mom?" Rachel gave a shout, looking around the kitchen with worried eyes as she also saw the mess. Rachel's mom did come into the kitchen after Rachel called for her, but with a gun stuck into the back of her head, pushing her forward.

Ah, shit.