The day started off like any other.

Open skies and hidden sunlight. Peaceful, save for the occasional chatter of birds. Calm waves caressed the shore while citizens lounged in the dying sun, as dusk fell over the city.

Then the night took a turn for the worse.

The weather had rebelled against the report that was foretold. The emptiness was invaded by thundering clouds. The wind thrashed against the trees. Some fell, others resisted. Everything was fair game. It whooshed around the street corners and tripped unsuspecting pedestrians.

The storm was picking up by the minute. Sleet was followed by a downpour. Streets were out of sight, under the snow that fell several feet. Tempestous winds rattled the windows, resounding through my house with a ruckus loud enough to wake the dead.

Blowing through every possible keyhole, the gap under doors and cracks between windows, whistling a piercing tune in the otherwise silent houses. Raiding house after house until it found mine.

On days like these I stayed indoors. Safe, or so I hoped, under layers of blankets, the radiator turned up to its fullest.

But tonight the cold seemed to penetrate through all the walls I put up.

Its icy hands reached out. Piercing right through me, all the way to my heart. I started shuddering, my entire body rocked with every wave of shivers that passed through it. Clenching my teeth, I prayed and prayed for it to stop.

It didn't work.

It never did.

" Dad! Mum! DADDY!"

"Lena? Honey, hang on!" I heard Dad come running, followed by Mum.

Smaller and softer feet padded up the stairs a beat later, but stopped short of the door to my bedroom.

Ryan stood by the doorway. I could see his young eyes simply wide with fear.

Fear of me, who I was becoming. And I couldn't stand seeing that look directed at me, by him.

"He doesn't need to see this. Tell him to leave!"

The poor kid ran off just by the growl that escaped my mouth. My breath rate increased, getting shorter and deeper.

I blinked my eyes several times, trying to dismiss it as a part of my imagination, but every time I opened my eyes, I was still thrashing and my mother was kneeling on the floor next to my bed.

Crying and holding on to my hand like my existence depended on it and if she lets go, I would disappear leaving something ugly in my place.

"Lena, I know you can hear me. Listen to my voice, honey. You can control this thing. You're my strong little girl! Do you hear me?" 

Tears started falling, as I struggled with the pain. I screamed, feeling it clawing underneath my skin.

Reaching for my neck, I scratched at it.  My arm, thighs, anywhere my hands could reach, retracing blemishes that were once bleeding gashes.

The scars from before opened up again, allowing the blood to stain my fingers. The pain hit me, but I hardly paid any attention to it.

My hands had a mind of their own as they tried to assist whatever it was that was trying to maul itself out of my body. Dad tried to hold my hands down, but that only made me scream even louder and jerk around wildly.

I felt my parents' grip growing tighter. Fingers digging deep enough for me to acknowledge it despite the pain I had inflicted on myself.

I yelped. Opening my eyes, I saw Dad holding down my limbs as Mum tied them to the cot. My mother was sobbing as she looped knot after knot in place, but Dad had his jaw clenched, determination set in his eyes.

"Dad! Let me go! What are you doing?"

How could they do this to me? Why would they treat me, their only daughter, like some animal? How dare they?!

I pulled at the last cord of rope that my mother had fastened around my wrist, wrenching it off the bedstead like it were made of paper, snarling as spittle flew out of my mouth.

They must have seen something in my eyes. I could still remember the horror and fear that reflected in them. It only made them bind me tighter, the rope cut into my skin and I screamed.

Screamed for the pain, screamed for the hurt. In the distance, something howled along. My parents backed away, tears pooling in their eyes, yet fear dominated the pity they held for their daughter.

But by then they had made the same realization that I myself had been refusing for days to come.

I was no longer the daughter they had loved and taken care of, I was no longer Elena. What was I, I did not know. But I was becoming something, that I was sure of.

More screams echoed off into the dark that night, and the neighbors could mistake it for nothing but howls.

Howls of agony.