Two sisters' tale

3.00 AM

You're breathing fire.

Fire straight out of your fucking nose like a dragon, and your body wants to leap through the goddamn window and take flight. Just burst through the glass and rocket skyward. Fuck it, you could. Shapeshift some wings, catch the wind, leave the whole planet behind. Burn straight through the atmosphere, sail past the moon, crash into the goddamn sun and let it melt you clean. But your heart's thundering too fast to fly.

-Ohhh shit, I haven't been this high since that ride on the flying chairs, remember that, Cassie?- Rachel giggles from the floor, slurring her words between sniffs, her voice sticky with euphoria.

Right now, no, you don't remember the time on the flying chairs. You’re not even sure it happened. Or if you were there. Or if she was. Or if there is a Rachel. Right now, you don’t care. Rachel’s joy is a useless flicker in your periphery. You’re too busy chasing the one moment of the week when you can feel, when happiness can be pressed like powder into a line on a glass table and pulled into your bloodstream through your nose.

Being high and possessed is bliss. It's freedom. You can peel the addiction off your brain like wet skin. Tell yourself it doesn’t own you. You can snort again and again and again, and stop whenever the fuck you feel like it.

-Wanna fuck?- You blurt without thinking. Rachel looks up with a glassy smile, then bounces to her feet like a marionette yanked by a string. She stretches, casual, her eyes not quite focused.

-Sure, why not.- She strolls over, hips loose, and kisses you. Once. Then again. Her hand snakes between your legs, quick and practiced. You weren't a lesbian—Cassidy wasn't—but she is not the kind of person to find it suspicious; hell, she doesn't even suspect she's been a puppet not a long time ago.

"Kh!"

Your body jerks. A twitch in your gut, sudden and cruel. Fingers seize. Your breath hitches. Perhaps Charity hasn't appreciated your thoughts (if she indeed can read them). Another jolt, deeper, your belly seizes, and you stagger forward.

"You fucking bitch, let me-" The thought cuts off as your guts clench like someone’s tying them in a knot, and this time it hurts. Real, sharp, full-body pain that doubles you over.

Rachel stumbles back, blinking through her haze, her joy cracking into confusion.

-Oh fuck, fuck are you overdosing?-.

-UURGH! N-No, I just... ah!!!- Charity's crushing your organs: your liver, your intestines, your whole insides squeezed like fruit in a juicer. You cough hard, and then your mouth flies open without your permission, and a blob of glowing green goo splats out, launching straight onto Rachel's face.

"Fuck, fuck!" You fall to your knees, clawing toward the door, stomach clutched in your arms, dragging yourself like a wounded animal, hoping to be quick enough. But then Rachel grabs your hair.

Pain explodes behind your ear as the ashtray—solid glass—smashes against your neck. Your air vanishes. You ****, collapsing flat, your arms scrabble but don’t find grip, and the next thing you feel is fists pounding your spine. Then your head. Kicks. One after another. A body over yours, relentless.

And then it stops, she’s going to the kitchen.

You use it: push yourself upright with a groan, one hand braced on the couch. Every movement stabs, your back is a landscape of bruises, your stomach burns with whatever Charity just did. But you get up. Rachel reappears, holding the baseball bat you keep under the counter, her cold expression turning into a furious grimace.

She swings, aiming for the face. You duck it, the wind whistling past your ear, then charge. You slam into her with your shoulder, headbutting her square in the gut and ramming her into the wall. She grunts, coughs, but doesn't drop the bat. You grab for it. Your hands scrabble with hers, tugging, twisting, shoving: -I'm getting fucking tired of this!- you shout, adrenaline flaring.

But she's stronger in this moment. She drives her knee up hard, right into the tender spot in your paunch where she'd already been squeezing from the inside. Your whole body seizes, and the next thing you hear is a CRACK, and your temple exploding.

Everything slows. You're falling, yes, but it feels like floating. The room flickers, and then you see your sister in front of you, only that she's younger, just a kid; and you are too, and the Old Bastard is standing next to you.

-Cassie, this is your sister from now on.- He says, and Dawn timidly smiles just as you reach the ground, and you don't like this girl, Miss Perfect with her stupid ribbon, plus, her mom is clearly an addict, so it means more troubles for you.

-Dawn, we've got no time, we have to go!- You're shouting then, years later, shoving medicine into a backpack while she looks at you with lucid eyes.

-B-But...-.

-OPEN UP! YOU HEARD ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL- The voice roars like a thunderclap behind your bedroom door, the same noise that is coming from over your lying. You always hated that room, but it was better than the nothing you gave her later.

-This is just temporary, I swear.- You didn't know you were lying back then: -You stay here. Look, it's... it's not much. No posters or anything, but it's safe, okay? I'll get your meds. I know some people.-.

Dawn doesn't argue: she knows what kind of people, and she hates herself for making you do this; and you hate yourself for it. But she still looks you, and smiles, through the fear. That same shy, impossibly kind smile that you hated so much back then.

-It's ok. Any place is fine if you're with me, Cassie.-.

Your fingers twitch against the floor. There's nothing there, just air. But you remember the feeling of her hand in yours. Small. Trusting.

-Dawn... we did equations today... showing you the exercises...- You mumble, or maybe you just think it, or maybe you've already passed out, bleeding from your skull, and you're not thinking anything at all.

---

2 hours earlier

This isn't Heather. You knew it the moment her gasp cut the silence: the sound is wrong in your ears, and your body recoils before your mind can catch up. You stumble back, breath caught somewhere between a hiss and a whimper, while the girl fumbles blindly for the bedside lamp and switches it on with a click.

The soft light reveals a stranger. Blonde, pale-eyed, a wide high forehead that shines faintly with sweat. Nothing like Heather, nothing like her at all. Your gut twists.

No. This is bad.

If she's in Heather's room, under Heather's sheets, then there's only one explanation, and it's one that fills your lungs with cold: she's one of them. A Charity. A puppet of that lunatic girl, dressed in your friend's world like it belongs to her. You spin on your heel, hand grasping for the doorknob, already half-gone.

-Wait, Tina, wait!-.

You freeze. Turn, warily. Her voice trembles.

-Y-You're Tina, right? Heather's friend. She told me you'd come.-.

Confusion scrapes through you. She's not Heather. She's not you. But she doesn't speak like a Charity either. No fake sweetness, no fractured mind. Who is she?

Why is she in Heather's bed?

-Am I wrong? You, you're not one of them, are you?- She clutches the bedsheets to her chest, fear in every inch of her posture. Her eyes scan you up and down: -That girl, that... Charity-.

The name comes out hesitantly, like she's afraid it might summon her.

-Who are you?- You keep your voice flat.

-My name is Dawn. I was brought here a month ago. You... uh... you know my sister, Cassidy Reynolds.-.

You don't answer. You just ask: -Where is Heather?-.

-She… oh god, what time is it?- She glances at the night clock and pales: -Oh no, they're about to bring her back. Quick, you have to hide before they see you!-.

Your jaw tightens. You hear it now too, soft footfalls in the hallway beyond the door. And the light underneath flicks on, slicing a blade of white into the dark.

"Shit.".

-Hurry up!- She lifts the blankets. You don't argue; you drop to the floor, crawl under the bed, and she cuts the light just in time. Two seconds later, the door opens.

From the shadows, all you see are three pairs of feet. Two are maids: shoes standard, scuffed, silent. The third is barefoot. Painted toenails.

You almost gasp.

You'd painted those yourself as a child. Little summer rituals with Heather sprawled out, giggling. You **** your breath to stay shallow, your muscles to still. No sound. No movement.

The mattress shifts above as Dawn climbs out, you watch her feet slide close to Heather's, their limbs tangling in an imitation of intimacy. The door closes. The room sinks into darkness again.

-Heather, there's something you need to know.-.

-Uh…- Just a murmur. But it's her voice. Her voice.

You move before you can stop yourself. You jolt up, slam into the nightstand, then knock your shoulder on the bedframe. Dawn flips the lamp on again, and there she is.

Naked.

Just the collar clinging to her neck. Tight, cruel. Your mind leaps to a thousand reasons why it's there, and you shove them all away. You lunge forward and seize her, arms crushing her body to yours.

-Tina?-.

-Heather. Oh, Heather...- You clench your teeth against the scream clawing your throat. You hold her like she might dissolve in your arms, your hand sliding over her skin, tracing warmth, the soft pulse of her life beneath it.

But then she pulls away.

-W-why are you here? You shouldn't... this is wrong...- She stumbles back, looking torn, eyes wide, voice thin with fear. -I should go to sleep. It's late.-.

Hearing it wounds you more than any blow could. You try to reach her, but she flinches again.

-Hedy, calm down. I'm here.- Dawn steps in again, gently catching Heather's hands (Hedy? Who's Hedy? No one calls her like that!).

-Remember what you told me? That Tina wouldn't have abandoned you. You said it every night when I cried on your shoulder. Don't you remember?-.

You watch her thumbs trace careful circles into your best friend's palms. Heather's gaze flickers.

-I… yes… but…-.

-Heather.- You step forward, cup her hands in yours again: -I waited too long, I know. But I'm here now. We need to go. I'm taking you home. Safe. Put something on, it's almost over.-.

-No, she doesn't…-.

Dawn flinches when your glare hits her, but Heather backs away first, violently.

-No! No clothes for bad girls! Daddy doesn't want it.-.

Your blood runs cold.

-Of course not.- Dawn says quickly, soothing: -But I bet Tina has a ton of cute dresses at her place. You always said you liked frills, and I'd love to try them on with you. Right, Tina?-.

-...right.-.

-So why don't you come with me? We'll play dress-up. Okay, Hedy?-.

Heather hesitates, searches around for an answer, then she nods.

Moments later, you're easing the door open. The hallway is dim and empty. You motion for them to follow. Dawn grips Heather's hand, leading her gently, whispering comforts every time Heather stumbles or moans; tender, habitual reassurances that tell you exactly how long she's been doing this.

Your chest tightens. You think about what Heather must've endured, and nausea rises in your throat. You shove it down. Later. You can fall apart later.

You round the last corner—and stop.

A silhouette ahead. Tall. Slow. Steady footsteps. You only get a second to register the danger before Dawn yanks your arm and pulls you behind the wall. The three of you awkwardly retreat, your heart thundering in your ribs, your breath held. You can only hope they haven't seen you, and that they will proceed straight.

Steps get closer, you tense, and then:

-Father!-.

Heather blurts it out like a delighted child, and you turn too late to stop her.

Richard Russell stops mid-step. His eyes find yours and widen.

Then, with a dull wet sound, his face distorts.

TUMPH

He collapses at once, crumpling like a felled statue. The jar bounces off his skull and hits the carpet with a soft clunk. Dawn steps back, breathing hard.

For a moment, you are all too shocked to react, then Dawn turns to you and exclaims: -We made too much noise. We have to run!-.

You don't wait to be told again. You drag Heather after you, and she whimpers, tries to twist away, but you don't slow down. Corner. Corner. Finally, the open window.

-W-wait, how do we do?- Dawn asks, stumbling to a halt. You falter: you only accounted for yourself Heather, assuming you'd use your powers to drop down. But Heather's not ready, and Dawn... Dawn's just human.

-The front door. Stairs are close.- You think fast: -We go out that way.-.

-But it's locked…-.

-I can open it!-.

You run down the stairs, skipping two at a time. Behind you, doors open, footsteps run, voices yell. But the main hall is just ahead, carpeted, wide, and at the end, the doors. Locked.

You could use your powers again to pick the lock, but you don't have time. This leaves only one option.

-When I open the door, don't wait for me!- You throw the words behind you as you break into a sprint, head low, legs pumping.

In the last month, you found out many things about your powers. For example, that many of your physical skills are enhanced: reflexes, resistance, speed. Strength. Like, you know for sure that you could lift a man over your head.

You don't know if you can break a door by running into it.

It's going to be a hell of a way to find it out.

---

I stay out too late

You turn the volume up, the cab vibrating with the beat while the truck's engine growls under your seat.

-Does your father still drive the truck?-.

ROARRRRRRR

That's what people say, mm-mm

-What? Uh, yes, but...-.

The lights go green, and so do the next ones.

You hit the gas harder.

-You want me to what? Kim, do you realize what time-

But I keep cruisin', can't stop, won't stop movin'

The lorry barrels across the empty intersection like a freight beast set loose. At the end of the road, barely visible under the hazy streetlight, the Russell Mansion looms. You don't know if you should hope you're right or wrong, but one thing you're sure of.

"I'm going to kill my sister after this.".

Sayin', "It's gonna be alright"

The cabin convulses as you smash through the wrought-iron gates. The airbag detonates in your face, jamming you back against the seat, but saving your nose from meeting the wheel in a kiss of blood; or goo, or whatever you're made of.

You groan, once, twice, then slam the door open and stumble out into the manicured garden, smoke already pouring from the truck like something exorcised.

You blink hard until the world stops tilting, and see that right in front of you, there's a blonde girl (Tina? No, that's not her) covering her eyes, and besides her, Heath-Heather? Yup, that's her, naked and cringing. You lift your gaze to the doorway and see the mansion's front doors cracked open, one figure sprawled like trash in front of them.

-Fuck.- You exhale, recognizing your little sister.

Your dumb little sister, who made you borrow Lucy's dad's truck, wake up the Mayor in the middle of the night, and blast through the city's green wave waiting for you. Now she's half-liquid on a Heather's lawn.

-W-W-What...- Not-Tina stammers, but you ignore her and instead march toward Tina.

-I'm your sister, damn it. Did you think you could fool me with a clone? I knew you were stupid, but not this stupid!-.

-Uuughhh Kiiiim...-.

The sound of her voice (hoarse, gooey, pained, but hers) undoes the pressure in your chest. You grab her, hoist her up as she sags into your arms, muttering at her to hold on.

-Come on, we need to leave this place. You, random girl, and Heather...-.

-Heather Russell!-.

You turn around at that voice. Lynette Russell is standing at the entrance of the mansion, Charity wearing her just like she's wearing her nightgown. Her daughter stiffens and squeaks like a scared puppy.

-Return here this instant, young lady! How dare you do this to your own parents?-.

-M-Mom...- Heather takes a step, but the blonde catches her wrist.

-Hedy, no! You have to come with us, we need you! I need you!-.

Heather's lip trembles, but then lets herself be taken away by the girl.

-There will be consequences, Kimberly.- Mrs. Russell's voice calls after you, laced with venom.

"Kiss my ass." You think, then you fleet. You lead them away, dragging Tina's half-solid body with one arm while the other two girls follow close behind. You round the gate, reach the edge of the street; the car's waiting, Lucy Ashton's horrified face appears from behind the wheel

-Oh my God, Dad is going to kill me!-.

You shove the door open, dump Tina into the backseat. Heather and the blonde climb in beside her. You hurl yourself into the passenger seat and bark: -Go.-.

Lucille slams her foot down like the gas pedal insulted her.

---

-Mgh... what...- You rub your eyes, trying to blink through the haze and the pulsing ache in your skull. By the hum of the motor and the rhythm of tires on asphalt, you realize you're in a car. A warm, limp weight is pressed against your side. It's Heather.

Heather!

You wrap your arms around her again. She doesn't respond, not even for a flicker, but you don't care. She's here, and that's all that matters. But how...

-You’re lucky- Kim's voice rings from the front seat, sharp as a slap: -that I managed to reabsorb your clone and see your plans. Have you lost your damn mind? This could've ruined everything! We are so having a discussion once we're home. And who the fuck is she?-.

You follow her glare and see Dawn, pressed on the other side of Heather, pale and rigid. Your first reaction is a flash of annoyance.

-I'm, I'm Dawn Be... uh, Reynolds. Oh God, can I have a phone? I need to call Cassie, she must be dead worried for me!-.

-No need to. She's already one of us.- You answer, your voice colder than intended.

Dawn’s mouth hangs open. She tries to speak, stops, swallows.

-I... I see.-.

-But she's right, we need to see Cassidy now. I've got the sensation she has something to tell us. Lucy, turn left.-.

Lucy glances over, visibly not thrilled by the command, but obeys. You'd rather be anywhere else as well. Your head is a hornet's nest... at least, a disgusting satisfaction clutches your chest, thinking that also one of Charity's skulls feel the same crack now.

...

"Something doesn't add up.".

You glance at Heather again. She hasn't moved, still blank-eyed, still limp, a doll unstrung. Dawn strokes her arm in what looks like comfort, but that's not what gnaws at you.

-Why is she alright?- You say it aloud. Kim turns, brows drawn tight.

-I mean, Charity must have put her goo inside of her. Heather, did she?-.

Heather says nothing, as if she hasn't you. But she's clearly not in pain. And there's another strange thing.

Dawn doesn't look like much. Maybe sixty kilos soaking wet.

-Dawn, I want to possess you.-.

Her head jerks toward you.

-What? M-Miss Tina, I, I know that you are used to, I mean, I don't think...-.

-Just temporarily. A scoop in and out, to check that you're... clean.-.

Your tone turns all the more clinical as Kim also locks eyes with her. Dawn shrinks.

-I'd rather prefer not to, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine, and... m-maybe you could leave me here, I can go home alone...-.

-I will take a second.- You lean on past Heather, letting your palm open. A warm bubble of red goo pulses to life in it, alive, hungry: -I promise you. I just need to be sure we can trust you.-.

She flinches, half-raising her hands in defense.

-Of course you can trust me! I'm Heather f-friend! Tell them, Hedy!-.

-And how did you lift that jar?-.

The color drains from her face.

-The jar.- You repeat it, voice low and iron-flat: -It must have weighed half your weight, and you knocked Heather's father out cold with it. How'd you do it?-.

Lucy's face tightens in the rearview mirror, her fingers twitching on the wheel. Kim's green eyes drill into Dawn's skull like they're trying to **** the truth out of her head.

-And Richard was already reacting, before you hit. And you knew he was coming before turning the corner.-.

Your hand hovers near the seatbelt latch. Kim doesn't say a word. She's braced, poised. Dawn, instead, is hyperventilating.

-...ok...o...ok... the truth is...-.

CLICK

-...I am Charity.-.

She barely has time to say the word ‘but’ before the car veers slightly and skids to a jerky halt. You and Kim are already moving, doors flying open in the same second, footsteps pounding over pavement. Lucy screams. You yank Dawn's door open and drag her out, hurling her onto the sidewalk like a bag of trash. Heather stirs behind you, voice cracking in alarm, but you're not looking at her. You're staring at the girl on the ground.

-You fucked psycho, I knew you were hiding something!- You growl, fists shaking at your sides. 'Dawn' stammers, raises her hands, pleading, but Kim grabs her by the shirt, hauls her up, and slams her hard against the nearest wall.

-What was your plan, huh? Infiltrating us from the inside? That's even dumber than what Tina pulled tonight!-.

-No, no, it's not like that! I'm not like the others, I really want to help you!-.

-Help us? After everything you did?- Kim spits the words in her face. You step forward, your rage churns in your gut like bile. You pull your fist back, jaw clenched so tight your teeth squeak.

-STOP!!!- Heather surprisingly grapples you from behind, yanking you backward. You stagger, off-balance, blinking in disbelief. Kim turns around in surprise, while you try to figure out why your best friend is acting like this.

-Heather, Heath-c-calm down, what are you doing?-.

-DON'T HURT HER, DON'T HURT HER!!!-.

Your hand drops. Your thoughts don't. Why... why is this happening? Why is Heather stopping you?

"No. No, it must be her. She did something to her!".

-Guys, we're making too much noise...- Lucy’s voice reaches you again, shaky, ****, but none of you are listening.

-What have you done to Heather, you monster?- Kim's grip tightens on her collar.

-Nothing, I... I did nothing!- Then, the most unexpected thing.

She cries.

-I didn't... but the others, they... oh God, I tried to convince them, to make them stop... but they're a part of me, of me! I'm... I'm a monster!!!-.

The tension in Kim's arms eases and Dawn crumples down, shoulders shaking, tears streaking her cheeks.

-I'm a monster... I'm a monster...-.

And, for some reason, even if only for a moment, you feel bad.

---

Usually, you like being Lucille Ashton. Meaning, yourself, uh. But right now it's easier if you still consider her her, and you you, to explain the concept better.

Wait, to who?

Anyway; you like it because she's easy to be. She has decent grades by studying a fair amount, she can have a boyfriend when she wants it, and not have it when she doesn't want it, she has a friend like Kim that gives her status, and she has a doting mother and father that look over her.

She liked being herself, and you like being her. Except in moments like these, when panic slams into your chest and you're utterly useless at handling it. The only reason you're lucid enough to know you're panicking is because you've not always been her, but that doesn't stop the feeling that there's a guillotine floating over your head, and you can already hear the latch loosening.

You've stolen your dad's truck in the middle of the night. His truck. The one he uses for work, for his long hauls that pay the bills and buy the groceries and keep Mom and your older sister warm and fed while he counts down the days to the next weekend he'll be back. And now that same truck is fuming in someone else's garden.

Oh, and you're also in Kim's house, standing next to two very large black men, both of whom are pointing handguns at a girl who's kneeling on the floor who is possibly a dangerous psychopath. Tina and Kim are right there, both a breath away from ordering them to shoot. Oh God, will you witness a homicide?

"She can't be killed like this.".

Are you the accomplice to one?

"She would kill you herself if she could.".

Will you end up in prison?

"No. We control Federals.".

Will you have to wear one of those ugly orange uniforms???

-Start talking.- Tina orders. Dawn gulps and nods, her eyes flicking to the guns.

-Y-Yes, but, is Heather safe upstairs? I mean, y-you should always check on her, she may...-.

May? May what?

-That's not your concern. Now, tell us why we shouldn't lock you inside a chest and throw you under the ocean.-.

Even Kim winces. You slap your hands over your ears: you don't want to hear a gunshot, you really don't want to hear a gunshot.

-Okay. I... well, Dawn, she was kidnapped by my... ehm, Charity's men as a hostage, and they had me... the jelly... with them. My mission was...- She hesitates again, then: -...was to become Heather's confidant and guide her to be more, more pliable, if not to dispossess Heather Russell's body, so Charity could take her place. But... but when I merged with Dawn's mind, I saw things, and I knew things, and I couldn't do that anymore! I couldn't... I couldn't be like them!-.

-So you're telling us that you're what, a good Charity?-.

-I'm... I guess I'm the faulty one. They figured it out pretty soon, so I became their prisoner too. And I swear, I tried to protect Heather as much as I could...-.

-Why you?- Kim cuts in, blunt as ever: -Why not anyone else?-.

Dawn pauses, tightening her lips.

-To control my sister. Cassie. Cassidy, I mean. They've used her as their spy since the beginning. I'm sorry.-.

A heavy silence falls. The Harris sisters stare; you, meanwhile, are physically trembling: shoulders, legs, everything. Who's Cassidy? Right, the punk girl. She's a spy? But she's one of you!

"That's the point of being a spy, duh.".

-Oh God!- Dawn suddenly shoots upright. You shriek (again) as both pistols immediately click into readiness, but Kim lifts a hand, and the men don't shoot.

-Cassie! She's in danger, we need to go to her! Please, I'll tell you everything I know, but they'll try to eliminate her now! I swear!-.

-Tina.- Kim doesn't look away from Dawn: -Can you hold her down here while I check on Cassidy?-.

-L-Let me come with you! Cassidy's body is probably filled with Charity's goo, but I can fight it. I can. I just have to stay close to her... like with Hedy...-.

-You're not getting one step closer to Heather, understood?- Tina's voice is pure venom: -And we don't trust you, not even a bit!-.

Dawn looks like she got stabbed in the heart, and she drops to her knees, her voice cracking, the pistols lowering with her. You feel like you're going to faint if they do that again.

-I beg you. Let me come. I know you hate me, and you have every reason to. But I have to help her! Even if she's not my Cassie anymore... even if I'm not the same Dawn... she's still my sister!-.

Something tells you that you're not going to go home so soon.

---

Now

Moving to Cassidy's condominium hasn't been easy with the sirens still screaming across the city in the aftermath of your exploit, but none of that noise compares to the tension boiling inside your group. Heather, now thankfully dressed, is still clinging to Dawn like she's the last plank on a sinking ship. Tina glares at them, truculence in every breath. Lucy looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. And then there's you. The one who insisted on bringing Dawn, and, by extension, Heather, much to your sister's silent contempt.

As expected, Cassidy's door is locked, and you push it open with a tug.

-Cas...- The name dies on your throat as you see her lying on the floor, wheezing in pain, while another punk girl is straddling her chest and **** her with both hands. Dawn lets out a shrill scream, and the attacker lifts her head to look at you. Then, she opens her mouth and Charity's goo jets out in a thick arc through an opened window and vanishes into the night, while the previously possessed girl falls **** next to Cassidy.

-Lucy, help me!- Tina barks, already lunging toward her schoolmate. She's growling like an animal, guttural, wet; you've only heard something like it once, from a stray dog dragging itself out of traffic with one leg shattered. Together, they hoist Cassidy up. She's groaning, blinking against the light, teeth gritted in pain.

You drop to your knees beside the **** woman and let a string of goo spill from your mouth into hers. She spasms, gasps, eyes snapping open as she groans and holds her head. You rise just as your sister glances at you, and then at the new member of your strain.

-Urgh!- Cassidy doubles over again, one hand gripping her stomach, while Tina and Lucy support her weight as she stumbles. Dawn recovers from her shocked state (you see that Heather is hiding behind her), and after some seconds, Cassidy stops grunting, though still panting hard. Dawn has claimed she could suppress the goo inside of her, but not extract it, an explanation you found quite convenient. But so far, it's holding.

-Careful, Cassie, are you hurt?-.

-Don't touch me, I'm fine. Urgh, what the hell are you people doing in my...-.

-Cassidy.-.

She stops at the sound of that voice. For the first time, Cassidy sees Dawn. Her mouth opens, no sound, and her whole body stiffens like she's seen an apparition. Her eyes dart, failing to make sense of what's standing in front of her.

-Hey.-.

-...-

-Am I hallucinating?- She asks calmly.

Dawn gulps, and you step in, knowing it's better if she hears it from anyone else.

-No, we retrieved her and Heather tonight. I suppose that Charity wanted to... cut the dry branch with you.-.

Cassidy blinks, her mouth hangs open like she's forgetting how to breathe. Then tears start to leak from the corners of her eyes.

You hate what you have to say next.

-But there's something you have to know. Charity lied to you from the beginning. Your sister... she had plans for her. She had to be sure she behaved. Do... do you get what I'm trying to say?-.

Her expression stops shifting, the tears halt, her face empties. Tina and Lucy glance at her, worried, but Cassidy just stares at you, as if you spoke in static.

-Cassidy...-.

Dawn's feeble voice makes her look past you.

-Please, sister, I...-.

The transformation is instant, scary in its immediacy. Cassidy's face twists in a mask of pure wrath, like a roaring tiger; and just like a roaring tiger, she lunges toward her prey, howling from somewhere so deep it shakes the walls. You throw yourself between them and you catch her mid-air, but it’s like trying to stop a wrecking ball.

She thrashes. Claws. Your arms wrap around her, but she’s shaking you off with wild ****. Tina and Lucy pile on, but she’s fast, oily, and furious.

Dawn gasps and backs up, shielding Heather behind her. Heather, wide-eyed, curls in on herself and covers her ears, squealing.

-I KILL YOU!!! YOU'RE DEAD WHORE, YOU'RE FUCKIN' DEAD!!! LET ME GO!!!-.

-Cassidy, calm down, let us expl...- Her head slams into your nose, and wet fire erupts across your face. You groan and let go; the moment you do, she slips free from the others, and now she's a breath away from Dawn.

But then the girl you just possessed steps out from somewhere, and intercepts Cassidy in full ****.

-No, no, not like this Cassidy. This is not the way.-.

-GET OFF ME RACH!!! GET OFF, GET OFF!!!-.

-No, no I won't.-.

-GET OFF!!! Get off! Get off of her! She's my sister! My little sister! Ahh! Ahh!!!-.

'Rach' (Rachel?)'s lock turns into a hug as Cassidy's knees fold, and her screams turn into **** cries.

You lean back, clutching your nose, and blood streams between your fingers. The pressure is building with every heartbeat. Behind you, Dawn is sobbing in a way that would be quite difficult to simulate. Heather is crouched on the floor, Lucy stumbles sideways, disoriented, while Tina just stares blankly away from the mess, like looking at it might make it worse.

In theory, tonight was a victory. But it doesn't feel like one.