| Prologue |

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Scott

SOME say when we are born, we can be destined for great things; or the most terrible. I had been raised in Boston, my father being a very successful doctor, and while my mother always made sure our lives were worth living, she could always bring a smile to anyone's face, even if they were in the depths of grief. I had always wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, for three generations, our family had been doctors.

In the spring of 1978, my family and I had planned on going backpacking in Europe for the summer, I was just about to finish my third year of pre-med. But the night before we were expected to leave, we were driving back from dinner, my parents in the front seat, chatting away. Then, all I could hear was metal screeching, the front of the car scrunching up, all in a matter of a split second. Life seemed to be a haze, going in and out of consciousness for days. I later learned that both of my parents were pronounced dead at the scene, some drunken fool had gotten into the wrong lane. He also laid in the morgue, right where he had caused my parents to end up. I should have died that night, throughout coming in and out of consciousness, I remembered the doctors discussing how I had internal bleeding.

I can still remember the number of bandages that were wrapped around me, especially my head. It went through the side window on impact. It was a wonder that didn't kill me right then, the sheer force of the crash could have broken my neck.

But by that next week, I woke up in the hospital, in the picture of good health, my bruises had somehow vanished. That left the doctors baffled, and left me, stunned. Before they could even figure out what happened, I fled the hospital. The funeral was a turning point in my life, I had gone deep into depression, dropped out of college, and spent most nights at local bars in Boston. This had gone on for several months after the crash, I was living off my inheritance from my father. I was raised to be caring to others, to help, but that all changed, drinking didn't take the pain away. That would come later when I would come face to face with the person who kept me from dying that night. She showed me all the wrong ways to live life, for she created a monster. The hell I caused, the pain I inflicted, would always be a reminder.

A reminder of what I was.

I always reflect on those moments, but time went on, and I found something worth fighting for, and a courageous witch who showed me how to live again despite all odds. But to tell it all to another, I would have to go back to the very beginning, where my hell began, and her hell, when we crossed paths that changed our lives forever.

Now all these years later, standing before my parent's graves in this unkempt cemetery, their names were forever stamped on those plaques.

I knew everything that I had gone through was not in vain. It has been 37 years since the night they died, 37 years since my life changed forever. 

The woman standing beside me was the only reason I was still here on this earth. 

A hand gently tightening around mine took me out of my silent reverie. 

"Everyone is waiting for us," she murmured.

 I looked to the side, her pale green eyes gazing at me.

"I know I just hope," I stopped, then looked back to my parent's grave, "That we all come out unscathed. So much has happened."

"I know," she whispered as she led me away from their graves, off into the darkness of night.


Darkness Descending | Book One ✓Where stories live. Discover now