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It is depressing how the actions of one individual can cause the destruction of a family. It is now half past ten on Saturday evening, six hours since Damien was arrested. In that time the Spencer family has self-destructed.

The mother refuses to believe that her son is responsible for getting her daughter pregnant, despite the evidence to the contrary. The father is taking the side of his daughter and has disowned the son. Last we saw them, Mr and Mrs Spencer were being escorted to two different cells to calm down after nearly coming to blows in the middle of the police station.

As soon as Damien’s prints were taken and run through the police computer system, unsolved crimes started spitting out of the machine at a high rate of knots. It looks as if Damien is a one-man mini crime-wave. Actually, that is not quite true. The friends he mentioned earlier seem to be his partners in crime, although the police are still working on their identities. Now that they have identified one member of the gang it is only a matter of time before the rest are found.

The Spencer household is currently a crime scene. Not only did Damien have an unregistered firearm, which has now been sent to ballistics for analysis, it also appears half his possessions might be stolen property.

This is why I am currently lying in bed curled up with Tracy. With her parents helping police with their enquiries, she needed somewhere to stay. After some discussion, it was decided that given the emotional turmoil, she needed to be with friends she could trust.

Susan’s bed can be turned from a single into a double by pulling out a trundle from underneath the main mattress. All three of us are sleeping together. Tracy is in the middle between Susan and me. I smile as I think of the irony that only a few weeks ago I was trying to explain having a strange girl in bed, and now I am sleeping with two of them. Not that either of them can be described as strange, and I have shared a bed with Susan on a number of occasions when younger.

This wasn’t how I envisioned my first sleepover as a girl, but then, whenever can anything to do with me be considered normal? We have spent most of the evening talking and comforting Tracy. She has been through a lot already, and unfortunately, it’s not going to be getting any easier.

Tomorrow morning she has an appointment at an abortion clinic. Tracy has always been anti-abortion in viewpoint, and I know her mother has similarly strong views on the subject. However, faced with the close inbreeding involved, and the associated high risks of genetic deficiencies and health problems, Tracy has made the decision to terminate the pregnancy. Her father has already signed the permission forms. Mr Turner made sure all the paperwork was in place for us.

I am the last to wake up on Sunday morning. Tracy was first up, suffering from symptoms of morning sickness. This first alerted her to the possibility of being pregnant. She has been covering it up by claiming her lactose intolerance has been causing the problem. Tracy had to climb over Susan to get out of bed and this caused Susan to wake up. I wake up half an hour later, after Tracy’s nausea has started to subside.

After some breakfast, Aunt Janice drives Tracy and me to the hospital. Tracy wants somebody she trusts with her while she goes into the clinic. She is not on the best of terms with her parents, especially her mother. It seems they always favoured Damien. At Tracy’s request, I am to accompany her, while projecting as her mother. I am more likely to be allowed to stay with her as a family member.

We arrive for the appointment on time at 11am. It’s one of the few clinics open on a weekend. It seems they specialise in teen pregnancies outside of normal school hours. After the various methods of abortion are explained, Tracy is given an examination to confirm how far into the pregnancy she has reached. This includes an ultrasound. Tracy is too upset to watch. I comfort her as much as I can.

After discussion and confirmation that Tracy wants to go ahead, she is given a dose of mifepristone and told to rest for a couple of hours while it starts to take effect. A second appointment is made for late afternoon on Tuesday, after school, for the second part of the procedure. Normally the procedure wouldn’t be started so late in the day, but it was thought preferable that Tracy not miss school, which could start rumours.

Sunday afternoon we call at Tracy’s home to pick up some of her possessions. At a minimum, she will need some changes of clothing and her schoolbooks. The house is still being searched by the police, however under supervision of a police sergeant we are allowed in to pick things up. Tracy freezes as she walks up to the building and runs back to the car. It seems most of the attacks occurred in this house and she can no longer face going back inside.

In the end, I go inside with the sergeant and pick up the necessary belongings. It looks like Tracy will be living with Susan for several days until arrangements that are more permanent can be made.

It is with much apprehension that the three of us return to school on Monday. I have been the target of nasty rumours and open hatred at school before, so I know what to expect. Tracy has witnessed what can take place, and is fearful about what may possibly happen if it is generally known that she is pregnant. Her brother has threatened to spread stories about her regarding sexual promiscuity.

Susan finds Mary as soon as she arrives and takes her to one side to whisper the situation in her ear. Shortly afterwards Mary comes and gives Tracy a hug. Having taken over most of David’s old schedule, I share a large proportion of my lessons with Tracy. David always used to sit next to Tracy, but as Jennifer, I have been using different seats. I am now taking back my place at her side in order to support her. She stood by me when I was outed, I fully intend to return the favour should the worst happen.

We get some strange glances as I stick closely to Tracy throughout the day, sitting in my old seats once again. When queried on the subject, Tracy states that she is having family problems and that I am helping her work through the issues. It seems that word has gotten round that Damien has been arrested, however nobody seems to know the reason. There are some wild ideas floating around the school, but luckily none of them are correct.

After school on Tuesday, I once again accompany Tracy to the clinic pretending to be her mother. We arrive at 4pm, and are the last appointment of the day. After being given prostaglandin, Tracy is shown to a side room where she has to wait for the medicine to take effect. Luckily, it acts reasonably quickly, and with the aid of some painkillers, the procedure is completed within four hours. We arrive home shortly after 9pm. The hospital psychiatrist has prescribed a sedative to help Tracy sleep and she opts to take an early night. She is still sleeping in Susan’s room, but this time the trundle is set up as a separate bed. I stay until she goes to bed before heading home.

Thursday afternoon the three of us are about to leave school when I get an uneasy feeling that we are being watched. As Tracy doesn’t have a bike we have been getting a lift from my father. He has been dropping us at school in the morning and picking us up in the evening from Gloria’s house, except for Tuesday when Aunt Janice collected us directly from school to take us to the clinic.

I scout round the neighbourhood with my remote vision and spot a group of youths watching us from down the street. I immediately notice that they all have the same tattoo, a thistle ring going round their left wrist. Damien has a similar tattoo. I assume that this is not a coincidence and lead the girls back into the school.

After talking to Mr Spencer about our concerns, we are allowed to stay in the school library while the police are called to drive through the neighbourhood.

“I don’t like this waiting around,” I state to Susan and Tracy, “The police may move them on this time, but they haven’t actually done anything so I am not sure what they can do.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Susan immediately gets on my case. “I know how that mind of yours works. You are not going to project yourself out there into an ambush.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I can’t get hurt. It will be just like at the bank except nobody will be watching this time, so I can unleash full-on ghost effects.”

“Go for it,” Tracy instructs me, “from your description they are friends of my brother. Those bastards have probably been instructed to rape me again. My brother was always threatening to get his mates involved. Go out there as me and see if they react.” The outright hatred in Tracy’s voice is hard to ignore.

“OK, but the first sign your body is in pain or reacting badly I’m slapping you out of it,” Susan warns me.

I lie back in my seat and project myself into an empty corridor of the school. Sneaking out the front gates, I start to head directly past where the gang is still located. I note that they are standing out of sight of the CCTV system.

As suspected, as I pass the alleyway that they have been loitering in, they grab me and pull me into a disused building site, out of sight of the road. I don’t resist or struggle as they drag me by the arm with a hand over my mouth.

“Hello, Tracy, your brother says ‘hi’,” one of the boys tells at me, pulling a knife and holding it to my throat, “Any screaming and I cut out your vocal cords.”

I am wrestled to the ground and pinned down. Two men take an arm each, another two each take one of my legs. I am spread out with my arms stretched to the side and my legs held apart. The fifth and final youth lifts my skirt and pulls down my panties.

“I’m not Tracy, I’m Alice,” I state calmly, “Alice the Avenger.”

I morph my features and cloths to look like a younger version of Wonder Woman before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Predictably, this startles and confuses the five young men attempting to rape me. I cackle, projecting nothing but my voice into the area.

“Let’s get out of here,” one of them shouts and they all start running to the hole in the fence through which we entered. I project myself in front of them blocking their exit.

“Hello boys,” I say grinning at them menacingly as they screech to a halt in front of me.

The one with the knife steps forward and lashes out with the blade. I let it pass straight through my head. I laugh at him, and then punch him in the face as hard as I can. He staggers, and falls over backwards, as blood streams from a broken nose.

I have already decided how I want to handle this. I refuse to kill anybody. I won’t inflict anything that I consider could potentially be a fatal wound. Anything else is fair game. As far as I am concerned, these scumbags deserve whatever they get. They crossed the line by trying to rape me, and now the gloves are off.

Another one tries to karate kick me in the stomach. I let him pass through me before turning and kicking him in the back. This sends him head first into the wooden fence behind me, knocking him out.

A third assailant picks up a lump of wood and starts swinging it back and forth, while running in my direction. The wood passes through my body as an identical lump of wood appears in my hand. I swing it, smashing it into his upper right arm. The force snaps his humerus and leaves it bent at a funny angle. He falls to the ground, dropping his weapon, and he clutches his broken limb.

The other two start running in opposite directions away from my current location. The one to my right starts to climb the wooden fence bordering the alley. Before he can get over it, I run horizontally along the fence, defying gravity. As he reaches the top, I kick him in the shoulder, dislocating it. He falls to the ground in pain.

The other is attempting a similar manoeuvre on a fence the opposite side of the building plot. I disappear, reappearing instantly behind him, and pull him back into the compound. Tossing him to the ground, he lands in a heap on the hard rough earth, his ankle twisting under his weight.

I once again reappear in the gap in the fence as the others try to slip through while I am busy with the fence climbers.

“Going somewhere?” I ask.

They back away nervously as a red-hot branding iron in an @ shape appears in my hands.

Sirens can be heard as police cars scream to a halt in the nearby street.

“I suggest you surrender to the police and confess past crimes, unless you want me to hunt you down,” I state before fading out just as police officers reach the hole in the fence, guns drawn.

Returning to my body, I wake from my trance to see Susan and Tracy staring at me.

“What did you do?” Susan asks, concerned, “you have had an evil grin on your face for the last five minutes.”

“They will no longer pose us a threat,” I reply. Susan looks at me crossly. I sigh and count on my fingers as I list the injuries, “Knocked out, twisted ankle, smashed arm, dislocated shoulder, broken nose. All now in the custody of the police, hopefully so scared they will confess anything through fear of me coming back.”

“You’re letting your abilities go to your head. Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely. You nearly drove Dwain to suicide. Damien is going to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, and god knows how much damage you’ve inflicted on those people out there. I was watching your face. You enjoyed it!” Susan yells at me, slapping me on the cheek before storming off.

“They were trying to rape me!” I yell after her.

I sigh and ask Tracy, “Do you think I went too far?”

She considers the question before answering, “I am not the best person to ask. If I could have gotten hold of Big Bertha, I would have blown my brother’s head off. He always kept the revolver hidden from me. The only times I saw it, I wasn’t in a position to try to wrestle it off him without risk of being shot. Given your power, I’m not sure I would be as restrained. Does it matter if you enjoy it, as long as you know when to stop?”

I ponder Tracy’s words for a minute before standing and saying, “Come on, it’s safe to leave now. Susan will calm down.”

We leave the school and slowly walk to Gloria’s house. I have kept my remote eye on Susan to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. She’s sat on Gloria’s doorstep when we get there, a few minutes after her own arrival. She looks up at me.

“Yes, I did enjoy myself earlier,” I state, “I recognise that fact. Am I happy that Damien can no longer pose a threat to young girls? Yes. Am I happy that five fewer criminals are now on the streets? Yes. Am I happy that I was able to save the life of a child by effectively torturing Alison? Yes. Did I kill Damien when I had the opportunity? No. Did I attack those five men without provocation? No, I waited for them to drag me into the alley and rip my panties off before I acted. Did I try to kill those five? No, I only injured them. Have I taken any hostile action in revenge against Stephanie, Cherry, Britney, Terry, Mike, or Ben? No. In fact, only last week I was working with Stephanie and Freddy in a civilised fashion, actually helping Stephanie deal with her guilt over David’s death. Going after Dwain the way I did was a mistake. I let my emotions control me instead of thinking it through. I don’t intend to make that mistake twice. I am not about to make the ghost of David go on an undead rampage of killosity.”

I help Susan to her feet and unlock the door to the house.

“I’m sorry,” Susan says softly, “I overreacted. I’m just worried about you.”

I wrap her in a hug, “If I ever look like I am crossing the line, let me know.”

“I will,” she replies, and then adds, “and if you quote Skin Horse at me again I’m going to hit you.”

As soon as I am settled inside Gloria’s I start to compose an email to Tom Millward and Robert Turner, explaining exactly what has happened. I don’t want them accusing me of vigilantism by going round beating people up without justification. I need to make them aware that I was acting in self-defence, as I’m not convinced that the five youths will actually admit to what caused them to end up in hospital. If they had let me walk past, then I would have ignored them and not taken any action.

Shortly after sending the email, I get a phone call from Mr Turner.

“Your last escapade has caused quite a commotion,” Mr Turner states. “I have just gotten off the phone with Tom. We were already discussing the arrests when your email came through. We guessed you might have been behind it when one of the injured begged us for protection from Alice the Avenger.”

“Did they actually confess all, as I asked?” I enquired.

“Two of them have broken down and confessed all, the rest are taking the fifth. The police arrested all five for breach of the peace and disorderly conduct. While not serious crimes, it did allow them to collect and process their fingerprints through the system. Like Damien, their fingerprints and DNA have been linked to numerous crime scenes in the last few months. Well done, you have probably made a serious dent in the crime figures for the town,” Mr Turner compliments me.

He pauses before continuing, “We found out some useful information from the two who talked. Seems they have links to our favourite supremacist cult. The cult has been hiring these thugs to intimidate individuals they regard as inferior. Combining this information with the data already collected from Alison, and a few other sources, we now have a good idea regarding the identity of Number Two. I think we may have an opportunity to shut this cult down once and for all. Would you be interested in helping out if the need arises?”

“As long as it’s outside of school hours, and my father approves, I’m willing to lend a hand,” I reply. I have a unique talent, and it seems a waste not to put it to good use. I quite enjoy assisting the police every now and then.

After a short discussion it is agreed Mr Turner will get back to me later if he or Tom Millward need my abilities.