FREAK OF NATURE

Kyle James Winslow - or James, as he preferred to be called - was fed up. He felt like the universe had been kicking him around like a football, treating him like dirt. His life was a hot mess, and he was stuck in a dead-end job as a personal assistant to some self-absorbed celebrity.

At 31, James thought he deserved better. He had graduated at the top of his class from Oxford eight years ago, and he figured that entitled him to a life of luxury and ease. He fantasized about having a personal assistant of his own - preferably a gorgeous babe who'd cater to his every whim.

James had always been drawn to the high life. Born to American parents, he'd acquired a British stepdad and, with him, a fancier surname - Winslow. He'd ditched his boring surname, Peters, to fit in with the elite crowd at his London high school. Over time, James had convinced himself - and everyone else - that he was a true-blue Brit. His Oxford education and posh accent only added to the illusion.

But beneath his polished exterior, James seethed with discontent. He felt like he was meant to be the boss, not the lackey. And he was determined to do whatever it took to make that happen - even if it meant playing dirty.

James's resentment simmered just below the surface. He was bitter about working for a spoiled, privileged blonde who seemed to have it all. But he had no one to blame but himself for his misfortunes. His addiction to gambling had decimated his earnings and trust fund, leaving him deeply in debt after a disastrous night at the Fair Heaven Casino.

Now, as he rummaged through Charlee's sleek, modern bedroom, he was driven by a desire to get his hands on her valuables and collectibles. The room was a testament to Charlee's bold style, with walls painted a deep, rich purple and trim accented in glossy black. The furniture was low-slung and modern, with clean lines and minimalist decor. James had been searching for hours, trying to find something that would solve his financial problems without arousing suspicion or attracting the attention of the police.

"Ah, finally, something of great value," James exclaimed, his voice dripping with excitement, as he opened a case filled with dazzling jewels worth over 10 million bucks. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he gazed at the sparkling gems.

But his triumph was short-lived. A loud thud echoed through the stillness of the bedroom, making James scream. His brown eyes met a pair of piercing blue ones, and he froze. It was Charlee, his recently deceased employer, who was now very much alive.

For a moment, they stared at each other, the only sound the heavy breathing that filled the room. Then, James's face turned ashen as he realized the gravity of his situation. He was screwed.

Charlee's laughter was a low, menacing sound, her face taut with anger. Her eyes blazed with fury as she sneered at James, her cowardly assistant who had suddenly grown a spine. She could feel her temper building, like a dormant volcano erupting into fiery life. Her hands shook with the effort of suppressing her rage, knowing that one wrong move could get her shot.

The air in the room seemed to vibrate with tension, the temperature rising to a suffocating level. James felt himself sweating bullets, his face dripping with perspiration as he wiped it with his left arm, momentarily loosening his grip on the gun.

Charlee advanced on him, her movements fluid and menacing, like a wild animal unleashed from its restraints. James's eyes went wide as he gulped, his employer's eyes seeming to turn from blue to a fiery red.

"Stay back, or I'll shoot!" James warned, trying to sound steady, but his voice trembled with fear. But then just as he finished his last word, his finger slipped off the trigger, and the gun went off, the sound echoing through the room like a crack of thunder. Charlee felt a searing pain in her head, but it was fleeting. She stumbled backward, her vision blurring.

James's eyes went wide with terror, and he turned to make a frantic run for the door, the jewelry box clutched tightly in his hand.

But Charlee didn't fall. Instead, the air around her began to vibrate and distort, like the surface of a pond on a summer day. A dark, swirling mist erupted around her, tendrils of purple and black smoke curling around her body like living vines.

As the mist cleared, Charlee was standing eight feet away from him, her eyes locked on James. James, still running, didn't notice her at first, but when he did, he froze, his face twisted in fear.

"I...I didn't mean to do it!" James cried out hysterically, backing away from Charlee. "Please stay away from me, you monster!" Then he turned towards the other direction and started to run.

Charlee's eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't attack. Instead, she seemed to teleport, appearing right in front of James. James tried to raise the gun again, but Charlee was too quick. She knocked the gun out of his hand and sent him flying across the room with a single punch.

James crashed into the wall, sliding to the floor unconscious. Charlee stood over him, a slow, evil smile spreading across her face.

"Damn" she whispered, her eyes gleaming with malevolent intent and a smirk graced her lips.