"Aren't we all Damaged?"
Being a Hybrid has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages. Abigael had been on both ends of those sticks, she's been on them for a while. But there was a fraction in the Demon world that would want her dead and another...
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*Surrey, England - July 22nd, 1692*
Abigael had to bury her own Mother herself, it was heartbreaking. Which was the hardest thing she had ever done. She had buried her in a field, under an oak tree where they used to pick wild flowers together. She stood at the foot of the tree, her eyes drifting down to the soft ground due to the dirt dug up. Tears streamed down her cheeks, they felt hot as if a white-hot poker stick was being dragged down her face.
Abigael lowers herself to crouch in front of the grave, placing a bunch of wild flowers she had hand picked. They were many shades of pinks, just as her mother liked. With the flowers placed she leaned back up, and the tears kept rolling.
"I love you Mother," Abigael was gentle in her reply, but it was all she could say at this moment. She was feeling mixed feelings. She was destroyed, angry, full of hate for those who did this to her. She wanted to burn down the town. But that wouldn't bring her Mother back. She would have to face the world alone now, and the thought of that killed her.
Abigael stood over her Mother's unmarked grave for hours, silently crying to herself. She was in a world of pain, her Mother would have known what to do. She returned to their cottage in the countryside of Surrey. She was gloomy on the walk back, and her eyes dead to the world. Their house was isolated from the nearest town, Margaret wanted to teach her daughter about the Supernatural world in peace and allow her to practice magic openly. She pushed open the wooden door, they weren't wealthy, so the cottage had only one room and it was home. Abigael walks in, shutting the door behind her. She went straight on over to a large trunk which was at the foot of her mothers bed. They had two separate cots at either side. She leans down and waves her hand over the trunk. It wasn't locked, it was sealed by a spell her Mother cast upon it. Only allowing her Daughter and herself to open it.
Abigael began to shift through the items that were in. Such as nick nacks, and other personal memorabilia. However, she was looking for Grimoire. Her Mother told her that it was passed down from generation to generation, to mother to daughter and so on. Abigael shifted some papers and located the book right at the bottom. It was a large leather bound book with crisp yellow papers, due to its longevity. It has thousands of incantations and rituals she could perform.
With the book in hand, she stood to her feet and went over to the rounded wooden table. Placing the book onto it. The dust that gathered was splashed away. Abigael remembered that this Grimoire was sought by many witches, due to its contents and how long it had been around. Once Margret had died, the spell that protected them for so many years would have vanished, leaving her daughter open to attacks. Abigael ran her hand over the leather material of the book, she could feel the magic radiating from its surface. The Grand coven would be coming for this book, to unlock its many secrets. Abigael was counting on it...
Abigael's hearing picked something up from outside her door, making her lips twist into a wicked smile. 'Show time', she thought to herself, knowing whoever it was, was here for the Grimoire. With the idea of disappearing in mind, black smoke flourished from the ground and crawled up her figure; as if it was a quick action. She was gone in seconds.
