Trigger Warning! Abuse. Please do not read if you will be triggered by this topic! Stay safe lovely readers!
Dreams are in italics by the way.
My comforter is a dark shade of forest green. I think Cordelia gave me this one because she knew I would miss the swamp. I've only been here at Miss Robichaux's for a week or so, and already so much has happened. A few days back in my swamp with Stevie is just what I need to clear my head. But the swamp isn't safe anymore, and it's so so lonely.
Sighing heavily, I stare up at the ceiling. I can't stop thinking about the painful events in my past that lead me to my home in the middle of nowhere. My eyelids begin to drupe closed and the black swirls of the wallpaper blend together. I'm so tired…..
"Papa no! Papa, please don't!" I'm crouched under the table, hiding with my knees pressed to my chest and tears streaming down my cheeks.
I am only 15, but I already know more pain that most adults.
My father, a large man with cruel eyes and a hardened heart, stands on the other side of the room holding his belt tightly. "Mama help me!" I cry out for my mother even though I know she will not save me. She hates me too.
They loved me once though. When I was born, my parents took one look at me and decided not to have any more children. I was perfect to them and no other child could compare. I never cried, never fused, and as I grew they loved me even more.
My father would pick me up and spin me around, saying that I'm his little princess.
But one day, when I was 10, our family dog died. I loved him more than anything, so I brought him back. The look my parents gave me that day broke me a bit. Their eyes were filled with horror and disgust.
Every day since then has been hell. My mother locks me in my bedroom all day. She wears the key around her neck and only lets me out on Sundays to go to church. My father has priests come to the house to try and treat my 'condition.' They are too afraid to tell the priests what I really am, a witch; they lie and say that I have the devil in me.
How could a gift that restores life be the work of the devil?
"Papa please!" Sobs wrack my body and make me tremble.
"Don't talk to me demon." His voice is cold and terrifying as he walks towards me.
"I'm still your little princess Papa!"
His face contorts with rage. "Shut up! Just shut up!" He flips the table over, exposing me.
My father lashes out at me. The rough leather and metal buckle of his belt cut into my pale skin, making me scream and bleed. I am completely helpless. Why didn't I get a gift that could protect me from this pain? All I can do is cover my head and wait for it to end.
The image dissolves and is replaced with me at age 23 sitting in front of a campfire, humming Stevie to myself.
At first this vision is peaceful. A warm breeze twirls my hair about and the cicadas sing. But the calm doesn't last very long. Yelling, from all directions, fill the night. The people who said they love me, the people who were supposed to protect me, along with about 30 town members surround me.
"Don't try to run witch, this is the end for you!" The leader of the mob points a riffle right in my face.
I search the crowd for her. For Kathryn. She's standing in the back of the group with her eyes focused on the ground. Why doesn't she help me? Could she have told the others about my gift? Just the other night we made love under the stars…
All the other members of the little group of runaways that I'd been calling my tribe are screaming, throwing stones at me. Anger and panic fill me to the brim. My instincts take over as I thrash around, trying to break free.
They tie ropes around my wrists and ankles. The harsh cord bites into my flesh. Growls and screams rip through my throat. I must look feral.
"Time to burn witch!" Cheers erupt from the mob. I kick wildly.
"Let go of me! I swear that you will be the ones burning!"
Their faces are filled with hatred as they tie me to a cross and dowse me in gasoline. The town's people chant "Burn! Burn! Burn!" I search out Katheryn and my heart shatters. She's chanting too. I've never been this furious, betrayed, and alone before.
"I swear that it is you who will burn! And I will rise from the ashes."
Flames lick up my legs and quickly cover my whole body.
"Misty!" Cordelia? It's definitely her voice, but I can't see her, I can only see the smoke from my own burning skin.
"Misty wake up!"
Slowly I blink my eyes open. Hot, wet tears drench my face. "Oh Misty, are you okay?" Cordelia is sitting next to me on the bed. Her eyes are filled with concern. "Did you have a nightmare? I could hear you crying and calling out from down the hall."
The pain from my dream-memories still clings to me. I can't say anything yet. Reaching out, I clutch at the soft fabric of Delia's night shirt. She seems to instinctually know what I need. Cordelia wraps her arms around me tightly and holds me close.
"It's okay Misty, you're safe now." I burry my face in her golden hair, it smells like her favorite strawberry shampoo.
I don't know if hours have passed or only seconds, but eventually the sound of Cordelia's voice, the smell that is uniquely her own, and the feel of her strong arms holding me together calms me down enough to speak.
"I'm so sorry Miss Delia. I didn't mean to wake you. Thank you for stayin' with me though." Reluctantly, I pull away from her comforting hug, sit up, and wipe away the residual tears.
"It's no trouble Misty." She folds her hands in her lap, seeming nervous. "I worry about you."
"Aw Miss Delia you aint got to worry 'bout me. You already have so much else to worry 'bout." I take her hand in mine and she smiles sweetly, a soft blush covering her cheeks.
"That's the thing Misty." She looks into my eyes, biting the corner of her lip. "There is so much to think about for all of us right now…but all I can focus on is you." Cordelia looks away shyly. My heart flutters. This witch means so much to me. She is my true tribe.
I can't hide my emotions any longer. I've been drawn to her from the first time I laid eyes on her. My cheeks flush bright red and I squirm around to try and relieve some of the excitement building up in me. I swear I must be glowing; I'm bursting with happiness.
Words have never exactly been my strong point. I tend to get tripped up and stumble over them. Cupping Cordelia's face, I don't need words. My lips crash to hers for a kiss that conveys more than my words ever could. It is heated yet soft, exciting yet familiar, and most of all it is love.