Twisted Legacy

[01]

Avery.

I had watched enough TVD to associate witches and their craft with Grimoires, spells, curses, and hexes at extremes.

But then again that is what happens in movies.

What of the real world?

I had often wondered whether most witches are born with a natural inclination to witchcraft.

If so, using the gift for the greater good would seem wise.

I happened to possess no such luck though.

You would think that having grown up in a world where the craft was associated with every other occurrence, I would maybe have gathered every ounce of knowledge there is to know about it.

I did no such thing.

In any case, I chose to wonder about its existence.

The idea that someone would have such power over someone else was unsettling.

I automatically rendered the whole ideal some  joke. Only, the catastrophe that became of it was nothing close to funny.

My phone rang startling the crap out of me.

"What's up T?"

"Hey, Av. How're you holding up?"

"I've seen worse though I could use some of your enthusiasm."

"Say less, what do you need?"

"Nothing much really, just ice cream, ha-ha"

"Quit messing around Av, ice cream is not  going to do you any good"

"You have had enough of eating your emotions if you ask me"

"Enough of ice cream? I don't know about that."

"Anyway, what's on your mind?"

"You really had to ask?" "Do you not know me?"

"A girl's got to try." I laughed and ended the call.

Tristan was right, I had had enough of moping around. It has been two weeks since the incident.

The one that banished me back to the dungeon from which I had fled.

A closet is too small for my skeletons.

We both had our ways of dealing with issues and Tristan's methods definitely did not involve locking yourself up in your room and rotating between sleeping and eating ice cream.

That was me. Duh.

Seems like we were doing things his way this time. Who am I kidding, it wasn't the first time.

Goes without saying.

In some twisted way, we were birds of a feather and Yada Yada.

I had like an hour to kill before getting ready for his party.

Yes, alcohol was it.

Well it was much more than tha-

"Avery! Get down here right now!"

Well, that took longer than I expected. What was I to blame for this time? I all but walked to the source of that dreadful shouting. Should be music to my ears at this point.

"Who the hell stole my joint?"

"First of, you are the only one who uses that shit."

Big lie, lol.

"Second, who cares that much about your junk to steal it?"

"Child, do not mistake my current state for weakness."

"We both know I don't ask this nicely."

I scoffed, don't I know it.

I used to tremble to sound of his voice, I don't anymore. I wish I did. That would at least save me from talking. I had always been known to say the wrong things and never at the right timing.

And of course, in the worst way possible.

Thanks to his current predicament, my skin has been free of bruises.

I know better than to think its long term. Something always gets him back up.

Who else to take his pent-up anger out on other than the only punching bag he has in the house. Cue the world only.

Yours truly.

If the past had taught me anything, use up all the opportunities life brings your way.

I obliged ofc.

So I will undoubtedly party as hard as I can before I am back to being a landing pad for punches.

Strong ass punches.

"Good luck with your joint, is it?

"See you when you see me Paul." I saluted him as I sped up to my room.

He knew he would pay back for all that so he said the only thing he had a knack for saying.

"I will get back up and beat the fuck out of you, you bloody fucking brat!"

I had already banged my door loud to enough to not hear whatever came out of his wretched mouth.

I knew it by heart though.

I was too far gone to care about what bone he will break next he "gets back up."

You can only care for so long.

It weighs on you. The constant worry, fear, endless tears. They become you, you wear them like a skin. After that, there is no going back.

No amount of fear, tears or worry ever postponed the inevitable.

A/N: And that's the first chapter! Thoughts? 

Talk to me!