Page 61 of Bad Witch

His footfalls echoed down the hall, slow and measured, heading away from me. He was listening hard. He opened the kitchen door at the other end of the house. I remained frozen in place. Move, you need to move. I had to do it now. Carefully, trying hard not to whimper, I slid the panel aside and slowly, so slowly, crawled inside the dark space.

“Tempest,” he roared.

I jumped, but I didn’t scream. Only stupid people screamed when they got a fright. That’s how you got caught, that’s how you made the people hurting you even angrier. I jolted, but I didn’t scream. His footsteps were coming back up the hall, faster now, and he was bellowing my name over and over again.

He was back in the living room with me. I forced myself to move slow, when everything inside screamed at me to hurl myself into my hiding place and slam the panel.

I didn’t.

Mom and I had practiced this, over and over again. I was fully inside now, and I turned carefully, inch by inch, then quietly slid the panel back into place, slow and steady, even as his footsteps moved closer. He was almost at the window. The panel slid closed the last inch just as he reached the window seat.

The sound of the curtains being torn off came next, his roars loud but muffled now that I was inside my hideout. He began to break things, storming around the house, tearing things apart, looking for me. When the vibration of his terrifying magic filled the room, the fear got the better of me. I hadn’t wet myself since I was a baby, but there was no controlling my bladder when he let it wash through our house.

“I know you’re in here somewhere, Tempest. I can feel you.”

I reached through the darkness and found the phone Mom had put in here for me. It was already on silent, the brightness already turned down to its lowest setting. Opening the messages, I read the one Mom had pre-typed.

I need you now, Matilda. Please help us.

There was no phone number, we didn’t need one. Magic would ensure it reached its destination. I hit send and gripped the phone tightly in my hand, squeezing my eyes closed against the darkness.

I don’t know how long I lay there, how long I listened while he smashed things and roared for me to show myself. All I knew was one moment he was screaming my name, then next he wasn’t.

Pushing myself up, I listened, hard⁠—

The wood panel in front of me exploded into kindling. I scrambled back, but it was too late. He’d found me. Grabbing me by the throat, he hauled me out of my hiding place. My feet dangled high in the air as he shoved me against the wall. His eyes were black with rage. It hurt, and I couldn’t breathe. Mom had sewn a little pocket in all my pajamas, and I frantically searched for it now.

My fingers finally found it as dark clouds gathered at the edges of my eyes.

“You’re just like her, aren’t you?” he yelled in my face. “You’re nothing. Nobody wants you. You’re lucky I allowed you to live in my home as long as I did. Your mother never wanted you either. Why would anyone want such an ugly, pathetic little thing like you?”

I could feel the magic building around him. He was going to hurt me, with the darkness inside him, the way he’d hurt Mom. I wouldn’t let him. Mom made me promise not to let him. Gripping the small handle, I pressed the tiny button on the side, releasing the blade…and thrust it as hard as I could into the side of his throat.

Mom said it would make him bleed a lot and, as soon as he was bleeding, to use my magic. Blood sprayed from around my knife, and his eyes bugged out. He released me, and I fell to the floor. Pain shot through my leg. I ignored it and focused on my magic, and on the blood. I was still learning how to use my powers. Mom and I had kept that a secret as well.

He pulled the knife free, his hand trying to cover the wound.

I latched on to his blood and called it to me, drawing it from him as hard as I could. The blood burst from him faster, pouring from his eyes, nose, and mouth as well, showering me so very fast. My fire followed, licking at the blood. That’s what Mom and me called it, because the magic burned white hot, racing along veins, destroying them until there was nothing left.

He stumbled around, then tripped, hitting the floor hard.

I struggled to my feet, wiping my hands on my pajama top as I ran to the kitchen. I didn’t look too hard at the bloody gore on the kitchen floor that used to be my mother, or at the symbols carved into the table, the skulls, and clumps that were scattered on top that looked like meat, or any of the other awful things that had me biting my lip to stop my scream. Instead, I opened the gas stove like she taught me to when she was too sore to cook and turned on the gas. The smell was strong, and I quickly unlatched the kitchen window but didn’t open it. Grabbing the matches from the top drawer, I walked out, closing the door tightly behind me.

I waited a few minutes, then lit a match, and setting the whole box of matches alight, I shoved the kitchen window open and threw it inside. The explosion threw me back, and I hit the ground so hard, the air was forced from my lungs.

I couldn’t move, but I fought the darkness trying to make me go to sleep. Mom said if you got hurt, it was best not to go to sleep.

Footsteps. They were light. I froze.

“Come now,” a soft female voice called. “You’re safe now, child.”

My eyes snapped open, and I shot up in bed, breathing hard. I didn’t think about that day if I could help it. Letting myself go there hurt too much, but the children last night, seeing the fear in their eyes, I’d known this was coming, it always did.

My hand automatically went to my forearm, seeking the rows of ragged scars that had once been there. My father had given them to me, and Matilda W had taken them away. After she brought me here, she kept catching me looking at them, or touching them, and witnessing my mood shift instantly when I did. She’d found a way to take that horror from me.

Shoving back the covers, I got out of bed and jerked the bedroom curtains open.

Sun poured in, warming my face. Pushing the window open, I sucked in the fresh forest air, clearing away the nightmare. The thud of Glinda jumping off the bed came a moment before she ran her body along the side of my leg and smooched my foot. I took another steadying breath. A splash came from the moat as Manfred rolled and played in the water, making his contented yipping noises, and the last of the tension left me.