{𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐁𝐨𝐲}

{Soaked}

[TW: Cursing & Mentioned Murder.]
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Three years... THREE years of being in the hell hole of a place. He was able to survive out of "Good behavior" and was released. He said his goodbyes, grabbed his things and left the place. He walked back on foot since the car he used had been confiscated. "It's better than being being back in there at least..." He chuckled as he continued to walk. 20 minutes in he felt something cold drip on him, it was raining...

"Fuck." He grumbled out loud. He felt his clothes getting wet, but continued to push on. He saw his house from a distance and was almost to the finish line. But while walking, he slipped and and fell HARD onto the road. He groaned as he pulled himself up and took a moment to realize what he slipped on. It was a book, it was barely holding itself together. He took the book off the ground and unsurprisingly it began fell apart. He quickly grabbed the fallen pages, stuffed them in his already wet bag and booked it to his house.

—————{15 minutes later}———

After taking a long well deserved bath and some change of clothes, he carefully pulled out the wet papers and tried to dry them with his mother's air dryer. When they were decently dry, he turned it off and began to read the pages. He saw ingredients, instructions, gods and wait..."Are these spells..? Am I serious reading some kind of spell book?"

He was so confused, he felt like he was in Harry Potter. He was about to throw the book away until one of the papers caught his attention. It was a spell for bad luck... He remembered about Jecka and how she was the one who convinced him to kill his mother. Was he that desperate to get back at her? Well, his mom DID deserve it, but still. He just simply sighed. He had nothing left left to lose... He lit a candle and began to write Jecka's name on ripped piece of paper with a black marker. "Here goes nothing." He tells himself as he carefully lifts the paper over over the flame. The paper burns, turning into ash.

After the paper was reduced to ash, he blows out the candle and puts it away. He yawns as he walks to his bed, getting comfortable in the sheets. His eyes grew heavy as he drifted to sleep. His eyes shifts to the mysterious pages that laid on his dresser. He chuckles. "Magic isn't real... right?"