The Sinners We Love |18+

[10] juniper

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juniper: symbol of protection and death

I had often wondered what a perfect spell would sound like.

In second grade, spell came in the form of a little boy who sat across our classroom with the chubbiest of cheeks, his moss green eyes like it could bathe me with heavenly charms and a continual discharge of snot that I'd have gladly cleaned with my bare fingers. Ew— calm your disgusted ass. Second grade Char was in love, alright? If love meant to look at each other and giggle like those perfect protagonists and dream about snotting over each other. Then, yes.

In fifth grade, Char was hungry. My favorite spell was the sound of the bell that rang, desks moved, chairs scraped and everyone gathered together. Boxes were unclipped — some fancy, some bland. But each promised a piece of heaven. Children — what we all were, would exhibit their lunch and look around if they fancied any other. My lunch came in the form of a wrapped tortilla stuffed with everything I could get my hands on. Perhaps, my taste for smoky flavors had commenced thereon. Mother was gone and I had all the liberty to trot around the kitchen floor, drag a stool and grab the pepper crusher, and spill all over my already filled wraps.

University was a blur. The only thing that kept me going were spices Emma served every morning about Nicholas and her. It kept me sane. Like I still had the capability to hold a conversation. I had always hated the silence, it made me feel vulnerable, like I was never in control of it and the thoughts it brought with itself. The unceasing silence in my dorm room and the white walls made me mad. Insane. I had scribbled words of my heart on the white paint because I couldn't trust anyone else with them. Other than that, the only spell I would have appreciated in college was the Death spell. To kill or be killed. In short, Char had gone through a phase, one could say.

When I moved out to do a three-month internship at an architectural firm, Emma had called me up relaying that she had finally managed to book our preferred apartment in the heart of the city. Spell came like a sigh of relief. Spell took every shape and language and tone — soft and harsh, low and loud, promising and deceiving. Like the first transaction to our bank account to the time uncle Luke had shown slight progress.

But tonight spell looked like a mighty human. Skin and blood. Arrogant but not ignorant. Entitled yet warm. And it spoke all the words, I wanted to hear.

"Come away with me." was all it took for me to ask Emma if she was comfortable returning alone. It was all it took to leave this guarded premises of my restricted life with Luca lacing his arm around me.

There were moments when the spell felt surreal. Almost like suffocating shackles. Where anything and everything felt sane, as long as it was with him; absurdly spiritual. I scoffed at my own thoughts. I must have tossed down too many glasses of liquor. It made me — creepy, alright.

We walked through the narrow passages of the kitchen. An odd choice of path, but did I know better? No. Did I ask why? Yes. Did he answer? Nope. Raging ambrosial wafts of delicacies made my stomach coil. All kinds of aroma. Some people became alert with our intrusion, their gaze intrusive yet indifferent. Some of them greeted Luca, some focused on the hot fire that sautéed the raw vegetables.

"Have you been to La Morte?" Luca asked, without turning to look at me, as I followed his lead to get out this heated kitchen as soon as possible.

"No, but James ordered our lunch from there." I wet my tongue, as if it would bring back the taste on my tongue. The owner of Adams corp. had himself treated us with such a luxury meal. But it tasted like shit. I wouldn't toss one penny even if I was shitting gold after tossing that down my body.