"Stupid child!" The force of the slap jerks my head backwards and sends my twelve-year-old body spinning straight into the nearest wall. I try to cry out but the air is gone from my lungs. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Can't breathe must breathe can't breathe must breathe can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan't-
She hits me again and I curl into a ball on the floor, desperate to protect myself from whatever's coming next. This is it. She's really going to kill me.
"Stop- please-"
"Stupid child," she repeats, drawing back her foot and slamming it hard into my ribs. "Your father would have been ashamed of you, talking to boys at your age. You are a bad girl. You are much too young, but you wear shorts! Boys will see your legs! No good, Anna. You are no good."
I'm twelve! I want to scream. I have no interest in boys! And it's warm- am I meant to wear winter clothes all year? But all that comes out is a gasping cough.
"You have been talking to that girl Maria again, haven't you?" She asks. When I don't respond, she kicks me again. "Answer me! Have you been talking to that Spanish girl?" Maria just moved in across the street about a week ago. I didn't even acknowledge her at first- I'm not meant to talk to anyone. But she was friendly, not to mention persistent. And, little by little, bit by bit, I ended up telling her everything. About her. About the Stepmonster. About the mysterious package that turned up four years ago. She understood. She helped me hatch an escape plan.
Which I came so close to following through. Which I would have done, if I hadn't accidentally woken the cat- who, of course, woke them.
"Yes!" I wail. "Yes, I have been speaking to her." No! Don't tell! You'll get Maria in trouble! "But not about anything important," I lie quickly, "she's been teaching me Spanish." This only infuriates her further.
"How dare you!" There's a rush of air and the foot connects with my head, and I have to focus as hard as I can on the wall just to stay conscious. "You dare to learn another mongrel tongue? You only speak English these days- have you forgotten what Finnish is? Do you even remember where you're from?" This isn't fair. I was so young when we moved to Canada; how could she possibly expect me to remember?
But my silence is no answer. She looks at the Stepmonster. "Take Anna to her room and teach her a lesson."
"In what?" He asks, but he must have ideas of his own, because a slow smile is spreading across his lips. After the last few months, I have a good idea of what he's thinking.
"In anything you like." Her own smile is cold and calculating.
"No!" I scream. "No, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything, I swear, but please, not that, not that!"
"You should have thought of that earlier," says the Stepmonster, grabbing me by one arm and pulling me upright. I have one chance and I'm going to have to use it. He has my left arm. My right is still free.
This will be the last mistake either of them ever make.
Quick as a flash, I tug one of my two knives- the ordinary, human one- out of my pocket and slash it across his hand. He lets go with a roar, and suddenly I am the one with the weapon. I am the one with the power.
Twenty seconds later, Malvina Korlov, my mother, and her husband, my stepfather, lie dead on the floor, and I stand dressed in their blood.
"Hey!" A pen jabs my arm and my head snaps up off the desk. I turn to face my assailant. "Class is over." The blonde girl behind me regards me with a curious expression and my heart sinks. I recognise her for what she is immediately- queen bee. Countless schools over the past five years have taught me how to work out who's who on first glance, and the one thing I don't want is some busybody trying to interrogate me on my first day in this hellhole of a school. I make up my mind to nod/smile/whatever and make a hasty exit, but before I get the chance, she's talking again. "You're the new girl, right? Anna?"
"Yeah, but-"
"I'm Carmel," she informs me with a smile. "I, um, kind of run the place, so if you need help with anything, just ask."
"Thank you," I nod, gathering up my bag, "but I really can't stay and talk. I have to get to my next class." Carmel raises one eyebrow.
"It's lunch break." Damn.
"Oh, of course. I forgot. So, yes, I'll just, well-" someone help me!
"Anna." I've never been so glad to see Thomas in my life. Which probably isn't saying much, considering I only met him yesterday. We both got out alive, obviously. Covered in bruises, in his case, but very much still breathing. "Are you coming to lunch or what?"
"You two know each other?" Carmel asks in surprise. Thomas, who apparently didn't notice her before, turns to stare.
"Carmel! Hi, um, wow, I didn't know you took this class!" It takes all of five seconds to work out what's going on. He like her. As in, likes her.
"I'll meet at the library after school," I tell him, then slip away before he can protest.
I'm wasted as a ghost hunter. I ought to go into matchmaking.