Out of the Dark → Transformers

Introduction

*I don't own Transformers or anything affiliated with Transformers. I only own my original characters and plots. All rights go to Michael Bay and Steven Spielberg.*

Some say that being different is a good thing; they say that fitting in is overrated, but for me, it was a whole new story. I had known my entire life that I was different, but it never occurred to me just how different I was from everybody else.

Until a couple of months ago, that is.

That day back in February was still so vividly etched into my mind, and there was only the slightest possibility that it would remain that way until the day I died. Every single detail about that day replayed over and over again inside my head, never once ceasing. I remembered all of the destruction, the blood, the bodies, and not to mention the immense amount of anger and sadness that I felt which only caused everything that was now wrong with me to finally unleash itself after seventeen years of dormancy. It was all one big memory that I absolutely despised reminiscing about.

Never in my life would I think that coming home from school would turn into such a tragic event. Normally, I came home to my loving family: my two year old sister, my twin brother, my mother, and sometimes my father when he wasn't on leave for the military. Instead of coming home to that comfortable atmosphere I was so accustomed to, I was met with great horror the moment I stepped through the threshold of my home.

My mother and sister were both on the couch, both of their necks slit open, along with a stab wound to my mother's abdomen. I could only assume that there had been some kind of struggle with the intruder given that my mother's blood trailed all the way from the family room and into the kitchen; it was normally where she and my younger sister would be when I returned home from school. The two of them had quite the knack for cooking and even though she was only two, my mom loved showing my sister how fun cooking was.

My brother, who had taken it upon himself to be homeschooled, was found on the staircase of my home in a pool of his own blood, his skull fractured and his neck broken. It was quite the random area for a killing though. The only reasoning I had behind it was that he had heard the commotion downstairs, but was struck down before he could even get close.

Lastly, there was my father who had only just arrived back home from battle the day before. I found him in his office sitting in his chair. There was no sign of any puncture wounds anywhere on his body and none of his bones appeared to be broken which was strange to me. The only other peculiar thing about the scene of my dad's death was that every single military file in his office was missing; nothing else inside the house had wound up missing and I made sure of that, but it left me utterly confused.

No seventeen year old girl should ever have to find her family like that, and it was only after discovering my dad's body that I realized just how dangerously different I was. The fury I felt was like nothing I had ever experienced in my seventeen years of life. I could feel the burning fire in my veins as I fell to my knees in sorrow, but I could also feel this strange icy sensation digging its way to the surface. After that, it was all a blur to me, but as I looked around my dad's office one last time, I noticed that everything had shifted. The window had somehow shattered, my father's lifeless body lay on the hardwood floor instead of his desk chair, and his desk had somehow managed to slam its way through the wall and into my bedroom. One final wave of my hand and a broken desk lamp was all that it took for me to realize that I had been the cause of the small wave of destruction.

In that very moment, it was almost as if something inside me had completely changed. At the time, I was experiencing what felt like a sensory overload. There was an eerie feeling knawing at my brain as if it were telling me to get out of the house, as if it were telling me that if I didn't leave at this exact moment, I was next. I couldn't understand what anything meant at the time, not my family's death nor this newfound "ability" that I had just so happened to stumble upon, but I just knew that in a single instant, everything about my being had beein heightened.

Without so much of a choice, I listened to the voice in my head. In a matter of fifteen minutes, I had an entire duffle bag packed full with clothes and shoes and I had also managed to take the $250,000 my parents had stashed in a safe inside their room as well as mine and my brother's life savings which in total added up to about $20,000. It pained me dearly to leave my family like this, but I had no other choice but to listen to this voice inside my head. Something was coming for me and oddly enough, I could sense it, so I needed to protect myself from whatever the threat may be. By running, I could possibly achieve that.

As I ran, though, thoughts concerning this strange ability that I now possessed began to overwhelm my mind. After a time, I found myself sitting in a secluded alleyway playing with whatever this was.

To me, it was something out of a SciFi movie or something supernatural like witchcraft or wizardry. I could manipulate any object with just a wave of my hand or finger, I could bend metal, and after experimenting on a full trash bag, I found that if I concentrated hard enough, I could literally pulverize any type of regular or convoluted material. It was only after nearly sparking a fire inside a dumpster that I halted my experimentations. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen and truthfully, it scared me to death.

This type of thing didn't exist in real life and it wasn't supposed to exist in real life either. There was no possible way for me to know the extent of my abilities, but I figured that sooner or later I would find out just how powerful I was. But I knew that I would have to lay low and attempt to contain myself. It hadn't taken me long to realize that I was dangerous and I couldn't risk hurting anybody because of this. If I did, I would never forgive myself for it.