3 weeks before arrest
I lock the door behind me and hop down from the porch. My feet land with a loud thump! I hop from step stone to step stone. The sun is out, shining brightly down on the town of Roseborn. My hair flies behind me as the wind tickles through it. Leaves crunch under my feet as I walk down the sidewalk to Madam Mara's house.
Madam Mara is my mentor. She's also the protector of our town. She protects the town from the outside world. Long ago witches were everywhere, and then one day that changed. They were hunted and soon enough our little town was the only place accepting of them and magic, so now we protect it. I'm one of the few Madam Mara is training, she keeps us a secret from one another, something about past deaths? I'm not completely sure.
Witches are rare now. We don't inherit magic any more, it's been a long time since it's been in bloodlines. Now we gain our magic through a tragic experience. I got my magic when I was ten.
I stop at a crosswalk and wait for the hand to change to a person.
"Morning," A voice says from behind me.
I turn and find Lucas behind me. His flame red hair hangs in front of his brown glittering eyes. He's wearing his soccer jacket and jeans. "Morning Lucas!" I greet.
"Where are you off to this morning?" he asks, coming up beside me.
"An errand," I lie quickly. I've been lying about this for years, so I always know what to say instead of the truth. Only my parents know where I go on Saturday afternoons.
"Parents doing baking?" He asks, looking down at me.
"Yeah, we ran out of flour. Where are you off to?" I ask.
"Band practice," He answers, hefting a small briefcase up in the air.
"I didn't know you were in band. What do you play?"
"Clarinet."
"Are you any good?"
He laughs, throwing his head back. "If I wasn't good I don't think I'd be in band," he answers, smiling widely.
"That makes sense," I agree. The sign changes from the hand to the person. "Are you heading this way?" I ask, starting across the street.
"Yeah."
We cross in silence.
I've known Lucas for awhile, he's a year older but was held back a year. No one knows why, and whenever I ask I can never get a straight answer from him.
"Guess I'll see you later?" He asks when we get across.
"Yeah, see ya. Good luck with band practice."
"Thanks." He waves and turns away.
I turn and continue heading to Madam Mara's. I wonder what today's lesson will be. Maybe we'll do some more sparing, or she'll teach me to make a potion for a client. It could also be something boring, like learning about the first witches, or the history of our town.
I remember my first lesson with her was about my powers. I was so scared of them, and hated them for the pain they represented but Madam Mara had bent down to look me in the eyes and I remember thinking that her emerald eyes were the prettiest ones I'd ever seen. She'd grabbed my hands and said; "Magic can be born from pain and, yes they might be scary but you can do wonderful things with them."
It hadn't changed my opinion right there but as she taught me, and held me close, I started to stop associating my powers with my pain and started associating them with my love. Now I can't imagine not having them.
I still wish that Anastasia hadn't died, but then I would never have gotten these powers. I miss her.
I remember the first time I met Madam Mara. It had been a few days after Anastasia had died. I'd been watching Disney movies all week, and hiding under blankets to stay warm from the snowstorm that had been blowing through town that week.
I remember that there had been a knock at the door and Mom had rushed to answer it, ushering the visitor in. "Madam Mara! What are you doing out during this storm?" Mom had asked.
I had gotten off the couch and peeked around the corner. The woman who stood before my mom had been beautiful. She wore tight fitting clothes that hugged her, and her face hadn't had a single bit of rosy-ness to it. As I was staring at her, she turned and looked me right in the eyes. "I'm here for her," she had said.
I didn't know then but the look that passed on my mom's face had been fear.
I sat at the table, staring down at my marshmallow smiling hot chocolate. Madam Mara sat across from me, and Mom was getting coffee ready for the two of them. "Do you know why I'm here child?" Madam Mara asked.
I shook my head.
Before she could say anything else Mom came in and sat down beside me.
"Are you cold?" Mom asked.
"No, I had my coat."
Mom nodded curtly. I think that it had been awkward with Madam Mara there, she was the protector and she almost never made house visits. So I think mom suspected why she was there.
"The snowstorm has been going on for a while," Madam Mara noted.
"Yes, it has been," Mom replied, looking out the window.
"And missy here has been mourning the whole time, correct?"
I'd looked at Mom with wide eyes. What was this woman going on about?
"Yes," she sighed.
"You know what that means, right?" Madam Mara raised an eyebrow.
Mom sighed, and stared into her mug like it would tell her the answers. "I do," she whispered.
Madam Mara turned to me. "You need to learn to control your emotions."
Mom's head shot up and she yelled, "You can't just tell a child to control her emotions!"
"If she doesn't, we'll be stuck in this storm forever and her powers will only grow more dangerous," she replied calmly.
"You have to teach her then!" Mom cried.
"I will. Once she has calmed down."
"I won't tell my daughter to calm down! She has every right to mourn her best friend!"
"Then what will you do? Allow her powers to grow without any control?" Madam Mara's eyes were stern but still held something soft in them.
"I don't know!" Mom threw her hands up. "There has to be something you can do!"
Madam Mara brought her hand up to her chin and stroked it. "I believe there is, but I'm not sure she will like it," she said, as she pointed at me.
"Why won't I like it?" I asked sniffling.
"You'd have to go out into the storm and suck it all in," she explained.
"Suck it in?" I asked, tilting my head.
"What does that mean?" Mom asked, placing a hand on my head.
"It means she would have to go out into the storm, not far, and take in all of that emotion that comes with it."
"What does that even mean?" Mom asked.
"In simple terms, it means she'll have to bottle it all up," she explained, holding her hands out in front of her.
"But that's not healthy!" Mom protested.
"Which is why she'll have to talk to someone and get my help."
Mom sighed and turned to me. "Do you want to stop the storm?"
I turned to the window, to the blinding white snow that had killed my best friend. "Yes." I said.
I remember going out into the storm, and doing something, but I can't remember what. The rest is all blurry too, except for pieces, like seeing the sun again, or sitting on the couch with mom and watching movies.
At our first lesson I'd asked Madam Mara about it and all she had said was; "It took a lot out of you. I'm surprised you remember that much."
Which hadn't been very helpful.
I turn the corner and there it is.
The house I've spent all my Saturday afternoons at for the past six years. The house stands out from all the others on this block, with its blue siding and brown brick base. The wood steps, which should have been dirty after all this time, are pristine and white.
I jump up the steps and land on the matching veranda. Throwing my arms out, I grip on the stone pillars to stop myself from falling backwards.
Once I regain my balance, I head towards the oak door. I reach out for the gold knob but stop. The doors already open.
There's no light shining out from the crack. I lean closer to the door, listening for Madam Mara, but there's no sound.
This is strange, the door is always closed, and I can always hear Madam Mara making some noise. Did she go out? No, she couldn't have. She's always here for our lessons.
Could this be a test? It's possible. There's a heaviness in my stomach that I can't explain, but it puts me on edge and highlights everything that's even slightly out of place.
I push the door open. A creak echoes throughout the house. "Madam Mara!" I call out. Her name echoes throughout the hall and bounces back to me.
I take in the dim hallway. Everything is normally in its rightful home, but today there's candles littered throughout the hall. The mirror that greets me is cracked and shows a million different reflections of the room and myself. There's a trail of... blood, coming from the study.
What happened here? Did Madam Mara have a fight with someone?
Something clutches my throat.
I silently make my way down the hall. Could the thing that did this still be here?
My gaze lingers on the black rug that lines the hallway. It's bunched up in places like someone slid on it.
I reach the door to the study. The trail of blood doesn't stop here, but continues into the room.
I reach for the knob, but a sinking feeling in my stomach stops me.
What if the thing that did this is still in there? Wouldn't Madam Mara have dealt with it? Or called for help by now?
My hands start to tremble. I take a step back from the door. I have to trust that Madam Mara dealt with whatever this is.
Before I can doubt any farther I grab the knob and throw the door open.
Blood. Everywhere.
There's a pool of blood, staining the carpet.
In the middle of the pool is a body. Dressed in a royal purple dress and black cardigan.
Madam Mara.
I drop to my knees, blood splashing around me.
An emptiness opens in my pit. Her body blurs as tears roll down my cheeks, a slight tickle in this horrible moment. My chest heaves in agony. I throw my hands up to my mouth to stop the loud gasps.
No. She... she couldn't be dead.
With my tears falling I crawl over to where she lays. I search her for a pulse or even a hint of life, but she's gone.
Another heave rocks through me. I throw my head down onto her unmoving chest and let it out. The tears came willingly, reaching for the light of day.
How could she be gone? Who could have done this? How could she have been taken from me before she taught me everything?
Madam Mara was like family and now she's gone.
A final gasp breaks out before silence settles over me like a blanket.