Then there was the smell. A rusty stench so strong she could taste it. Deep breaths in...out and in again. She bit down hard praying that her sharp teeth would recede. Praying that control, or at least a resemblance of control, would return. The sooner the better. Her nail beds still tingled. This could only mean one thing, her hands still possessed dagger like claws. How in the hell had she gone from being a preschool teacher to this? A monster. A killer. Far worse.Deep down she was still the same person. She was still Brice Darkstead. She still had a family who loved her and friends who cared. Although it felt like that part of her life had ended a million years ago.It wasn’t easy, but she continued to try to control her breathing. Her breaths were still fast and choppy. She needed to slow down, which was hard since the thing inside her loved the violence. It hummed with the sheer ecstasy of having made a potential kill. Her victim moaned. The desperate sound clawed at her and she hissed.
