Chapter One
Felicity POV
I can’t spend another Saturday night wondering why I am the way I am.
My parents have no answers, because I’m adopted.
Of course. Doctors label me as odd but overall healthy with no specific mental disorders.
I’ve been poked and prodded, and besides having ‘slightly thick blood’, no one can tell me why I feel the way I do. Act the way I do.
I think the way I act is normal, but other people don’t seem to.
For a while I thought perhaps, I just have ‘not like other girls’ syndrome, but it’s more than that.
It has to be.
Besides, if I could be like other people, wouldn’t I have already done that by now? This can’t just be my own brain tricking me into thinking I need to be different.
I don’t want to be different. I just am.
For goodness’ sake, I’m sitting outside at two in the morning, moon-bathing.
The moon feels so good on my skin. It’s warm and tingly.
The way everyone else describes the sun.
For me, the sun is harsh and far too bright.
It makes my eyes hurt and my skin feel like it might leap off my body if I don’t get inside.
It’s why I’m stuck with a desk job, friends that I talk to mostly online, and sunscreen with the highest SPF possible.
At one point I’d live in the Pacific Northwest. It had been the best time of my life. The rain, the lack of sun…the greenery. It was so beautiful, but the moon didn’t shine nearly as clearly as somewhere with less clouds.
In order to get good moonlight, I had to move somewhere with better sunlight.
So, I live in one of the hottest places now. Arizona; but the sky is clear, and the moon is so full and bright tonight. My skin feels like tiny little flowers are kissing it, and I love it more than anything.
I read my book about a woman falling in love with a centaur and just enjoy my evening.
My evening to myself, while plenty of other people are asleep. All I can think about while I sit outside in the backyard of the small house I’m renting, is that I really need to get some friends.
I’ve had friends, on and off all of my life. Except they never seem to stick around as long as other people’s friends do. Once I really start opening up, they disappear.
I’ve been through it all…therapy to try and figure out what’s wrong with me. Self-help books to find out what’s wrong with my parents. I’ve even gone the route of deciding that there’s something wrong with those people instead.
In the end the only definitive answer I have is that there’s just something about me that other people shy away from.
I say the wrong thing at the wrong time, I laugh when everyone else is quiet, and I’m so easily excited that people seem to cringe.
For twenty-six years of my life, I’ve been trying to find out what and why. Perhaps even how.
It’s been exhausting…and my only respite are nights like these. The moonlight is both relaxing and invigorating. It gives me time to think, really think, and get to know myself in ways that I didn’t before.
Journaling helps with this.
Though, these days I think I’m just repeating the same tired lines over and over again.
I sigh and put my pink gel pen down between the pages of the frilly sticker lined journal that’s nestled on top of my plush thighs.
“Maybe Mark at work wants to be friends?” I ask myself. My voice is quiet in the night. The only other sounds are that of the crickets and cars passing by on the road across the street. Whooshing with the wind every now and then.
I shake my head. “I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try!” I smile to myself and pick up my pen again.
Tomorrow I’m going to see if Mark from work wants to meet up for coffee.
He seems like a nice guy. Other people in the office don’t talk to him very much either.
It’s time I try even harder to make a friend. Put myself out there. Right?
I sign off, Felicity, and put the ribbon marker down before closing the book.
I click the pen and slide it into the fabric holder on the side of the journal.
I’m determined to make at least one friend this week.
Even if it means potentially embarrassing myself in front of the people who dislike me the most.
***
Seven hours later I’m nursing a green tea with a fourth cup of sugar in it as I walk into the office.
Cubicles line the room and the bright white lights make my eyes hurt.
I’m glad I got the blue light coating on my glasses the last time I ordered them.
I used to get headaches halfway through the day before.
No one says hello to me, no one except…Mark. Mark Rutherford. He’s a tall lanky man only in his mid-thirties with a balding hairline. Apparently, that’s the bad thing, but to me it’s just what he looks like.
Mark gives me a firm “Good morning, Felicity.” A nod of his head, and then turns back to his desk with his coffee mug next to him.
I smile at him and prepare myself for talking to him. I rehearse what I’m going to say in my head…and yet what comes out of my mouth comes out, out of order and incredibly chipper.
“We should coffee get,” I tell him.
He turns to look at me, and blinks. “Ah, what?”
I blink back at him, not realizing what I have said is wrong for a solid ten seconds. “Oh. Well, the coffee here sucks,” I tell him with a chuckle. “We should get coffee somewhere else sometime.”
“I make the coffee in the morning,” Mark tells me. His face has fell into a flat line. His eyes are dark and I can’t sense any emotion in them. Though, according to every therapist I’ve ever had, you’re not supposed to be able to in the first place. So, maybe I’m reading him wrong.
“It’s not very good,” I insist. “Maybe you’re using too much?” I keep a smile on my face, trying to be positive. Positive and honest. The two things I think are the most important traits of mine…and as I am about to see, yet again, the two things that get me in the most trouble.
“I don’t think so, Felicity,” Mark snaps at me. “…and I’m a married man.”
I tilt my head to the side. “What does you being married have to do with anything?” I raise a brow. “I want to get to know you better.”
Mark’s face flushes a pink color I’ve never seen it before. “I think you should get to work now.”
I take a step back. “Is that a no?” I ask him, confused.
“Jesus Christ. Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m not interested, and if you keep bothering me, I’m going to HR.” Mark turns away from me with a huff.
I take another step back, then turn around and head for my desk, clutching my drink and my messenger bag to my body.
As I set my things down in my cubicle, I feel like I’m in a daze. I don’t understand what’s just happened, what I did wrong, nor why Mark reacted that way to me.
“Next time, don’t insult a guy before asking him out,” a voice comes from the left of me.
It’s Nathan Greer. Another man who works in the office.
“And maybe don’t ask a married man out. Jeez Felicity.
” He smirks at me. I smile back at him. He stops smiling and gives me a look that a lot of people give me, one I still don’t understand, before he walks away.
My smile falls as I process his works. My eyes begin to burn.
“I wasn’t asking anyone out,” I mumble. “I wasn’t insulting anyone.” I take a slow breath as tears sting at my waterline.
“I can’t do anything right can I?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try not to let the tears drip down my cheeks but they do. I can’t help it. I feel overwhelmed by the emotion. Rejection. Misunderstanding.
I wipe at my cheeks while getting logged into the system and starting my work.
I type faster than anyone else on this floor, so I get the most work and I get through it faster than they even give it to me.
Still, by the time it’s all done, I’m exhausted.
Being under the lights, surrounded by people who just glance and glare at me all day…
Even lunch is depressing. Sitting in my car all alone eating a salad and some cookies.
The only way I get through the day is by listening to my favorite music in my headphones and having some cute trinkets on my desk. They’re all moon and tarot themed. I’ve always felt close to the earth, and I like to do the occasional tarot readings.
Today, for some reason, I find myself googling some things while on my break. More witchcraft than I usually let myself indulge in. My parents warned me off it when I was young, and even tarot took me a while to open up to.
The words: Discover Who You Really Are on my screen makes my mind whirl.
I look behind my shoulder for a moment. I only have a few minutes until I need to get back to work, but…maybe I can look it over just once. I’m looking at it on my phone after all, not the work computer.
After clicking the link, I scroll through the page. There are some pop-up ads and I have to reload the page once to get the entire thing to show, but it’s fairly simple really.
“If I get some red candles, I could do this,” I tell myself. Then I look up at the ceiling in thought.
Am I really that desperate to try a spell to learn more about myself?
I look back down and click the button to bookmark the page before turning the screen on my phone off.
Yes, yes I am.
***
Later that night after taking a nice hot shower and putting on my cozy pink and purple pajamas with ruffles at the hem of the sleeves and legs, I get together everything I need to do the spell.
Perhaps it seems like a silly thing to be doing, but I have nothing to lose. I don’t think.
I grabbed the red candles on the way home from work, so now I’m just grabbing some lavender, charcoal, black pepper, and…
something sweet to mix it together with.
It doesn’t specify, just that it should be a bright color for smearing around.
I decide on strawberry jam. I’ve got some that needs to be used anyway.
I do it on the kitchen floor, because it’s tile and will be easy to clean up.