The Secret of the Maiden (#1 Witch academy)

Chapter 5: R for ...

"She comes creeping like a storm,
In the middle of July
Crawls to the corner of your mind
Her scent will draw you in"

Spider in the roses - Sonia Leigh

___

His training was an agony etched into every sinew and bone. Muscles ached as if they were protesting against the relentless assault they had endured. His hands and feet bore the marks of unyielding blows, tender skin rendered raw. A veil of sweat clung to his back. A refreshing shower and his mother's miracle balm were gifts sent by heaven at this moment. The balm smelling like thyme and salt, stuck to his skin when he dived into his bed. The torment of sore muscles gave way to a dull throb, a gentle reminder of his exertions as he fought against the embrace of sleep. 

As the world fell into a serene hush, his thoughts raged to life. An orchestra of doom scenarios marched through his mind, like specters dancing before his apprehensive gaze. The realm of possibility stretched before him, painting vivid portraits of misfortune before his big day. He could break his legs, or they could get into an accident or he could have overslept. 

Or he could lose.

He turned in his bed with a hiss. The bedsprings beneath him offered a somber symphony to accompany his restlessness. He opened his eyes frustrated, sleep would elude him tonight. A kaleidoscope of passing car lights painted the contours of his room, an poster of his favourite athlete warded over him. 

Maybe he could read the last chapters in the diary.

12/03

I tried to investigate Louis; I started asking questions. But he has been avoiding me. He is always out of the house or working in his garage. I went looking for one evening when he left the house. He taped the walls and floors with plastic. Why would he do that?
My paranoia tells me to leave. I should leave and try to find my mom. But I don't even know where to search.
Mom should return next week. I have so many questions for her. But I just want to leave here and ask her to take me with her.
I have collected the herbs from my mom's garden. I have prepared my last solution.
R

As the words wove their spell upon, Leonardo's mind was consumed by the revelation. The diary, once a private sanctuary, had now become a vessel of shared secrets, drawing him into its web. He kept going over the minor details, his thoughts morphing into a tempestuous tide. 

 It surprised him he already took that much time figuring it out. The diary's author, its mysterious protagonist, seemed to blend with the faces he encountered each day. 

He went crazy with worry and paranoia. What if something happened to her and he never knew about it? What if they were missing the moment he found the diary? What if they got killed by this Louis person? His muscles tensed, his body tingling for a fight that only existed in his racing thoughts.

He started browsing through the diary, looking at every drawing and schematic, each one ratcheting up the tension. Complex formulas and diagrams sprawled across the paper, an intricate language that defied his understanding. The heartbeat in his chest quickened, his breath hitched. 

A photograph fell from the pages, a glimpse into a past veiled in shadow. A girl and her mother stared back at him, the black hair and eyes against pale skin a striking contrast. A smile adorned the girl's face, lighting up her face, the mother's blue eyes glowed grey around her pupils. She was rather pretty with high cheekbones and full lips, however; she looked tired.

Then it hit him like a shortage of electricity that left his skin tingling. The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked into place, forming a haunting picture in his mind. He recognised the mother. At least he recognised a girl that resembled her. The girl from his school, with the darkest eyes he had ever seen, and who was hiding behind her soft dark hair. Who had a wicked sense of humour.