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Chapter two
Past
My eyes open, and I try to push down the excitement of my 13th birthday. It’s what every child born to a magical family dreams about and looks forward to the day when their powers come into play. Until this point, we were powerless, which I felt all too often in my life. Maybe powerless wasn’t the word for it; more like it was that I am invisible, an annoyance rather than powerless. I am a burden to my household, and the sad part was nobody bothered to pretend otherwise. I care for myself and try to draw as little attention to myself as possible to feel a small amount of love from my parents. Both of my parents want little to do with me. My father is self-involved in his own life and seeking power through the ministry. He wants to make the rules and not follow them if he doesn’t think they should apply to him. The man wants to be the most powerful person in the room. My mother doesn’t seem to care about anything anymore. She tends to drink or self-medicate when she thinks nobody is looking. The good news is that she is functional. She wouldn’t be able to continue if she embarrassed my father because she made it known to our household that our appearance was the most important thing. We don’t want to draw negative attention to ourselves because it will hurt my father’s rise to the top.
My best friend Ember and I have been debating what your 13th birthday will be like, probably because her parents and mine have explained things differently. She has repeatedly told me not to get my hopes up today. She keeps reminding me we will attend Black Rose Academy together in a few short years. Nothing else matters. I focus on that and keep my eye on the end goal. Because one day, I won’t live in a house that tries to change everything about me. As much as I want to defend my parent’s actions, I have run out of excuses. However, I don’t want to give them a reason to take Ember’s friendship away from me. I know they would if they could. They hate that I am friends with her, primarily because of her being of mixed bloodline. Her mother is a succubus, and her father is a vampire. My family believes in being pure.
They dislike everything I love. They began forcing me only to have my older sister Lulu’s hand-me-downs. I suppose they hold on to the hope that I would become like her because, of course, Lulu is everything I am not. She took after my mother in the looks department. Blonde hair that curls perfectly, bright aqua eyes, and a bubbly personality that people flocked to. Then there’s me. Dark, almost black hair, yes, it curled, but not perfectly. It seems as if my hair is more frizz than anything else. My hair was so unruly that my father told my mother to do whatever she could to fix it since I was becoming an eyesore. I went through hair treatments, but nothing worked. Finally, at her wit’s end, she spent the money to have a permanent spell placed on me. My hair curls perfectly now, even if I don’t put the product in it, which I often don’t since it seems like a waste of time.
That isn’t the only thing they wanted to change about me. No matter how hard I try to fit into their world, my personality gets in the way, and then I end up ruining it. Everything I touch taints itself, becoming stranger, darker, and odd after I try to put my spin on it. This causes my parents to raise their eyebrows with a look at the other that says, ‘She gets it from your family.’ Then, they went back to ignoring me after tossing it away, pretending that they didn’t break my heart as they tossed out something I loved.
It doesn’t help that I only seem into things most girls aren’t supposed to be—at least not the ones in our family. Among them were sketching, entomology, reading, and enjoying dark clothing, all things my mother and Lulu classified as creepy and weird. When I was eight, I had a collection of rag dolls I made from discarded scraps of material. They were my little Frankenstein dolls, mixed and matched with what I could find—complete with button eyes. They lived in a shoebox in my closet as my secret. Or, at least until Lulu found them and ensured they were burned. She cried dramatically while complaining to our mother that I was making Voodoo-type dolls of her. According to her, I was trying to curse her and her friends. Her sick smile of victory would shine through when anything of mine got thrown out. That means anything that doesn’t meet the perfect standards of the family gets taken away. Ember started keeping things I made or wanted to keep at her house. She states I can have them when we attend Black Rose together.
My anxiety is riding high as I give into the morning stretch and sit up in bed. The bubblegum pink tulle canopy tickles my face as I climb out of the monstrosity over-the-top bedding. I hate it—it’s from Lulu’s princess phase. Naturally, I got them after she wanted to change to butterflies. Dark thoughts of burning them down enter my mind. I smile as I picture everything from the dolls, horses, and stables as they catch fire, burning the eyesore color to ash. That would be an improvement to their appearance.
I try to shake off the dark thoughts running through my mind. They are becoming more frequent, and I haven’t wanted to bring them up with my parents, who would use them as an excuse to ship me away. It’s noticeable how much my mother prefers my two siblings over me. She doesn’t voice it out loud, but it’s noticeable. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but it’s not. It used to make me try harder, but now I have stopped trying altogether and accept that being invisible is the route to take. Mother only talks to me when she is disappointed in me. Even if she does, her eyes seem to almost scan over me. Her gaze made me feel all the imperfections that live in my appearance. I can’t help but think that if I could change it, I would. If I could cut the imperfections that live on the surface out, I would if that meant they would love me.
Today, I can finally make them proud. That is my hope for today. This is a chance for a new start. There is no way this day can’t be about me, with no Lulu to sabotage it while twisting my words to make it seem like I am in the wrong. Half the time, I wonder if maybe I am the one who is twisted, as they say. My grandparents have my siblings at their house because today is about learning my magic and guiding me. I practically skip to the kitchen before becoming nervous. My body stops, and my anxiety makes my knees weak as I round the corner to the kitchen. Something inside of me is screaming to turn around. To run away. My feet did not want to transition from wood floors to tiled ones. I shake my head as I try to reason with myself that this will be good. This could be life-changing for me, yet only terror grips my chest. ‘You always ruin everything. Why should this be any different?’ My inner voice scolds me.
I flinch back and feel his eyes on me. Of course, this happens when I’m having an inner argument with myself. He flexes the newspaper, and a growling grumble sounds in his chest. ‘ He hates you, can you not feel it? ’ Something seems to scream at me.
With another shake of my head, I press on, my legs feeling heavier with each step. My body feels like it is swaying as I try to put one foot in front of the other. I am trying my best not to make this heaviness in my limbs known, but I am feeling more awkward than normal. Still, I am determined that today is the day I will change how they see me. My father’s eyes scrutinize me. He folds his newspaper neatly shut as he watches my movements. ‘ Today is judgment day ,’ my father’s deep rumble of a voice enters my head. My lip trembles as I look up at the intimidating man.
My eyes feel confident that his lips didn’t move. Am I hearing voices? My hand is shaking as anxiety seems to have taken root in my chest. I try to shake this off because I’m sure my paranoia is amping up with the pressure I’m placing on today. His short, dark hair is always lying perfectly. I wish mine would do that. I have waking nightmares, remembering when my hair used to look as if I stuck my finger in the light socket. He reaches for his coffee mug, and his large hands almost dwarf the cup. His honey-colored eyes narrow when he sets the coffee cup down, and I feel he can see all my imperfections. But then he smiles at me, which makes my chest warm. “Do you want to eat first or see what control you have over your casting?”
The thought of food makes me want to vomit. My anxiety is so high. I think any substance I consume would only make it worse. Even my palms are sweating as I wipe them on my pajama bottoms. “Powers first.” I nod, trying to look like I wasn’t about to combust into a panic attack from the intensity of his gaze. His smile is sharp and slightly predatory.
Mother walks in with her pale green silk pajamas and matching robe, looking like she had stepped out of a magazine. Everything about her is perfect. Even the way she walks, she is the perfect wife in looks alone. The cameras and news outlets love to follow and take pictures of all of us. Mother, at one point, was a starlet. When she walked into the room, people held their breath. They stopped whatever they were doing to watch her as if she held them spellbound. She insisted she had no siren or succubus inside her—only pure caster abilities.
They are the perfect couple. She gave up the life she had been living and went all in with my father, the career politician and starlet actress. Mother opened doors for him, helping him push forward the policies he wanted to pass. Now, he is more famous than she ever had been. Our lives have always been under a microscope. She walks over and kisses the top of his dark head.
“What are we doing this morning?” She wipes her hands on her pajamas and fidgets with the tie of her robe. Her bottom lip is between her teeth as she sits on his knee. Terror grips my chest once more, and my legs wobble. My hand reaches out to the island next to me to steady myself. My head turns, and I look around, trying to figure out what is happening. I slightly narrow my eyes on her. She is not one to fidget. Is this feeling coming from her? Is something wrong with her, or is she trying to make my birthday about her? Why can she not let me have a day? Anger flares inside me, pushing down the panic that overloads my system.
Even my father notices and frowns as he looks toward her. “Everything okay, dearest?” His tone has an edge, giving my stomach a sinking feeling, but I can feel my anger overshadowing that. As I stand there, my lips pinch into a hard line, my hands forming into fists. Of course, she would try to make this day about her. She wouldn’t do this for Lulu or Oliver. No, only me. She hasn’t even told me happy birthday.
There is a rage building inside of me. The feeling seems to take over. All my other emotions have never felt this powerful. This feeling seems to consume me, like a part of me is drowning in the feeling. Something is pushing out from inside of me, and the feeling fuels me past my normal levels. My limbs begin to shake down into my hands. A bone-chilling coldness has taken root inside of them. That should have been enough to snap me out of my thoughts and stop my spiraling. Because I should have known better, should have known that it wasn’t ever going to be about me.
When my mother’s eyes lock back on mine, all I see is fear reflecting in them as the shadows from the room seem to grow. The walls bleed with the darkness, and the shadows wrap around me like a second skin. My eyes widen as they whisper encouragement and seek to comfort me. My shadows realize it is anger and not a danger before I do. They are trying to calm me. My shadows slightly tickle as they move over me, attempting to absorb into my skin. When they finally do, I smile at my father.
However, my smile disappears when I meet my father’s hard eyes. He shoves my mother off his lap and onto the floor. His chair falls backward as he backhands my mother across the face. My father stomps over to me. The floors seem almost to groan with every step. His hand reaches out and grabs my arm before jerking me forward, causing me to fall to my knees. “Is this something you thought I could overlook?” He screams at my mother, who sobs on the floor. “Maybe if she had your powers? Is that what you hoped? She has dark hair, so maybe you could pass her off as mine? Who did you fuck?” He screams as he drags me over so he is standing over her. “Who did you stay with? You told me nothing but lies!”
“Please, let me take her to him.” I am so shocked that I can’t move. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. With my arm still gripped in his hand, he strikes her face. You can hear the bone crack as blood falls from his fist, and I cannot help but watch it as it falls to the floor.
“You finally admit there is a him! Well, fucking finally! Don’t you dare sit there and look at me like you didn’t see this happening! Did you hope she was mine? You’re many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” His gaze looks back down at me, gripping my arm harder. My shadows try to help, but I don’t know how to control them. It seems they are almost petting him as they try to bat him away. His nostrils flare with anger, and I can feel his hate for me spilling out as if it were my own. His voice is now like venom. “Maybe you are because you should have disposed of her. She is tainted! It would have been much kinder to snuff her out before you had her, or even as a baby.”
My mother sobs so hard, tears streaming together with the blood that is trickling down from her broken nose. Her right eye is already swelling shut. She tries to catch the blood between her fingers, not wanting it to drip onto the white floors. Snot and blood mix, along with streams of tears and mascara. Is she crying for me? “Let me take her to him.”
My blood turns cold, and I can’t breathe as fear takes hold of me. I think I am about to die. There are so many things I want to do in this life. I have barely scratched the surface.
“How could you be so stupid?” He hits her again when she tries to sit up and move closer to me. I’m so scared that I can’t move even if I want to. “It won’t be me that hurts her. However, she is going to wish that you would have killed her when you had the chance.” My vision goes spotty before going black.