PROJECT HECATE has only just begun. The runaways are running the night.
❝IF YOU EVER WANT TO JOIN ME, BABY, I'LL BE DANCING IN THE DARK.❞
❝cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time. but...
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❝ If this is love, why does it break me down? Why do you break me down? It's been a long time since I felt the way that I do now— like I need you, but I don't know how. ❞
If This Is Love, by Ruth B.
PENELOPE "POPPY" SINCLAIR was never thought to be a troubled child. Many have often called her the golden girl of the family, alongside her twin brother Adam. Everything changed, however, when she began to have the visions. They followed her constantly without fail— watching from the shadows, taunting her with their words that felt like digging needles into her skull.
Descendants of her mother's family line have a very long history of being blessed with the gift of magic, especially the women, although this has not always been the easiest to control. Only the strong survive, they have been saying for centuries, and it was true. The pure Sinclair magic was close to unobtainable, and there have been few who were deemed unworthy to control it. Those who were deemed such was never the same again.
It was the curse of the Warverns that came with their power. Eliza Warvern, mother to the Sinclair siblings, knew that very well.
A few years ago, the Curse came after Poppy. Her mother had assured her that she had nothing to worry about. Eliza Sinclair has never been a woman to be wrong, but unfortunately that was one of the rare times she was.
From that moment on, St. Agnes' Asylum has become Poppy's home. She could often be found in her bed, reading whatever books they had given her. Adam was the one who visited her the most often, bringing her new volumes every time. It pained him to see his twin almost resembling an empty shell.
Gone were the times the blond Sinclair would smile her bright trademark grin, or make jokes that never make any sense yet never fail to make others laugh, especially her younger siblings. She had so many plans before the unfortunate incident— college, a job in her father's company, and perhaps even a life with her boyfriend David.
His death haunted her more than she could ever express. To her, it had been her fault.
That afternoon, Poppy was found sitting in the alcove near the only window of her bedroom. The Asylum wasn't exactly the warmest place, and there was a slight chill to the surroundings, but she couldn't have cared less. Despite many thinking she was close to brain dead, she often found herself dwelling on her thoughts too much to be normal.
On her desk sat a vase full of sunflowers. The blond tilted her head ever so slightly to the side and picked up one of the yellow petaled flowers. Humming a tune under her breath, she began to pluck out one petal at a time, lazily watching them fall to the ground. However, they never reached the ground. Instead, they wilted and turned into ash before they could touch the mahogany floors.
