Aurora:
In a world where love had to be earned I would never be good enough. I was the black sheep in the family, the witch without magic.
While my sister excelled in every type of way I had to suffer in silence, tormented by the people I should ha...
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Ten years ago
I was nine years old when I went to sleep, smelling the burned flesh of my cat. I was nine years old when the world stopped spinning.
I was picking at the burned skin on my hand that showcased red welts and blisters where I had tried to carry my cat Barnabus to the bathtub. My wrists and arms stung with scratches from his claws which he'd used to desperately scratch me while his tiny body stood in flames.
I felt guilty for the short moment it had taken for me to realize that my parents didn't care about Barnabus or me. They had been busy celebrating the discovery of my sister Maeve's magic. Like all of my ancestors she was made of a lightning strike, a tiny disaster that diminished my life like a forest fire.
It only felt logic that she would test her fire on my cat, murdering him in the process just to hurt me. There was a deep sense of grief and guilt in my heart that settled on me like a heavy blanket.
I angrily squished my face into my pillow, tears falling from my burning eyes.
I had taken Barnabus to the bathtub as fast as I could when I had realized that my parents didn't care about him. I had ignored the pungent smell of burned flesh and the agonizing pain in my hands. I had opened the tab with shaky hands and let the water extinguish the fire that had left him hanging onto a string of life.
Barnabus had been my childhood pet, bringing me comfort and safety when I had felt like hiding myself from the world.
And because of that I had known that he was dead when his screams of agony had stopped only a few seconds before. Lastly I had watched him during his last moments in this world as he had looked up at me through exhausted green eyes before going to sleep.
Therefore it was my body that had failed to protect him, my body that was shaken with guilt.
Because my parents didn't care about me, my sister didn't even think twice about hurting Barnabus. Every single time my parents had ignored my pleas for them to stop her from hurting me in the last few years my sister's entitlement had grown.
She'd shown magic for a while now while I hadn't. Even though I was three years younger than her my parents never failed to remind me of that. They'd been elated for my sister when she had burned Barnabus. While one sister's life had just started the other one's world was shattered into pieces.
Maybe it was the inability to stay in this world that grew my exhaustion to a point where I was forced to succumb.
I fell asleep hoping that someday I'd be able to leave this terrible place.
When I woke up in the morning my eyes were dry but my throat was burning. My head hurt from crying but I welcomed the pain.
Now that one child fulfilled their role the other one wasn't needed anymore. In a sense it was freeing to my heart. The promise that I was on my own now freed me from any expectations that would ultimately be left unfulfilled.
