I shoved my key in the lock, forcing the door open with my shoulder. I was due at some warehouse down by the old train station in less than an hour, and I should have started my treck there right after school, but I didn't.

The meeting had been set up by the leaders of two other rebel groups whose names I didn't bother to learn. Truth be told, they didn't trust in my competence what with me being so young, and I was severely testing my limits by being late.

I didn't care. I was doing them a favor, not the other way around.

Besides, I wasn't showing up to a top secret rebel leader meeting wearing my school uniform; the stupid skirt was made of wool and the shoes were running dangerously low on soles. So I tossed my bag on the floor by the couch and made my way towards my room, scanning my shoddy apartment for signs of unwanted life.

Break ins were common in my neighborhood, and it would take more fingers than I have to count how many times my apartment had been broken into. Not that I had anything worth stealing. And it's not like I really minded; they needed whatever they stole more than I did.

One time I came home to find I no longer had a doorknob, and I couldn't pinpoint anything else that had been stolen. I didn't bother replacing it.

I pushed open the door to my room, finding the thin layer of dirt on the floor had not been disturbed. Confident that no one was in my place, I kicked off my skirt, unbuttoned my shirt, and collapsed on the bed.

I knew better than to close my eyes, so I stared blindly at the ceiling, watching the boards above me shift and creak with footsteps from above. For a long moment, I watched as threads of smoke sifted through the floor, creeping through the air. At first, I thought little of it, but then I heard someone scream.

I shot up, hastily throwing on sweats and a tee and tossing my book bag out the window. Not to brag about speed or anything, but I was out of the apartment before my books even hit the ground.

Without a second thought, I ran up the steps to the floor above me. The screaming had yet to cease, and as I rounded the corner I managed to make out the words.

It was high pitched and panicked, definitely feminine, and repeatedly chanting "Help! Someone help me!"

As I stumbled through the burning building choking on smoke and occasionally finding myself catching fire, some part of my conciousness began to dim. By the time I reached the little girl, I wasn't fully myself.

Her crys quieted to choking whimpers when I stood over her and began to pull her out. Her gaze met mine. She stared at me in a mix of horror and relief, and I shifted my stance so my hair hid my eyes.

With inhuman strength, I hauled the beams off her battered body and lifted her up into a bridal carry. She barely weighed anything.

I almost smiled reassuringly down at her when she tensed in fear at the fire all around us, but the words that left her lips as she passed out stopped me in my tracks.

"There's a demon in your eyes," she whispered.

I clenched my jaw, watching her body fall slack in my arms. Fighting for control over my own body, I made my way back to the staircase and found myself staring down four flights of fire. If I hadn't been carrying the girl, I wouldn't have second guessed running straight through the flames, but it didn't take long for me to see that there was no other choice.

So I relented, allowing my own conciosness to be fully replaced by another, much darker being.

"It's not just in my eyes," I whispered back.