Morana knows she's different from other people in more ways than one. Firstly, she's sixty-seven years old but stopped ageing in her twenties. Weird things have also happened around her right after she's wished for it. But most importantly, no matte...
I could hear Mom starting to speak, knew she had started the ceremony, but I did everything I could to block it out. That went much easier than it ever had before and the reason for it was obvious. For the first time, I had something in my life which brought me proper joy, someone who I was already missing and longing for.
In my mind, I did my best to remember every single moment I had shared with Morana so far. All our conversations, every single one of her words. The sound of her voice and laughter. And how beautiful she looked when she smiled, how peaceful she was when she slept, and how adorable I had found her just that morning.
With my head filled with Morana, I barely felt as the athame made one small cut on each of my wrists. Neither did I realize that the ceremony was over until I heard the increase of chatter. I opened my eyes then and saw them all slowly moving out of the basement and up. Just like when I had walked in, not a single one spared me so much as a glance.
I looked down at my wrists. The wounds had been magically sealed but the streaks of red showed how blood had come out of them, gone to the sides and then dripped down onto the copper plates.
I stayed still in my seat until everyone else had left and then some minutes more. When I felt certain they all should have moved to the parlor, I stood up. They would be busy having drinks, eating, and talking until late evening, at which point they would return to the basement for another ceremony. My task during that time was simple. Clean up and prepare for the ceremony and stay out of their way. I wasn't to be seen nor heard.
I felt the familiar feeling of light-headedness when I stood. For a moment, I kept still and held onto the armrests. When I was sure I wasn't at risk of fainting, I removed the copper plates and brought them up to the kitchen.
I placed the plates in the sink and then did what I always did first, rummaged around for some food. They always made a lot of hors d'oeuvres, but any that didn't look perfect they left to be thrown away by me. So since I was never given any other food, those scraps were what I ate throughout the day.
After having managed to eat an okay lunch, I started up the cleaning. First the copper plate, then all of the dishes they had made while preparing the hors d'oeuvres. Then down to the basement and brought up the ceremonial tools that needed to be cleaned.
Next up was to replace the white candles which had been used in the morning with black ones. Change the roses from red to black. Bring up the herbs they wouldn't need anymore and bring down the ones they would.
I was done with it all at around five pm, at which point I ate the rest of the hors d'oeuvres they had left behind. Then a final cleaning of the kitchen before I went back down and to my chair to wait.
None of it was particularly hard work, the worst was that they did usually leave a lot of dirty dishes and I had to hand wash it all. But it still wasn't too bad, except that I always would feel tired and weak from it. I wasn't sure how much blood they actually took from me. The first time, I had looked when the blood had started to drip out of me, but the sight had made me nauseas so I had closed my eyes and since then always kept them closed every time I was in the chair.
Based on how I usually felt afterwards, it had to be a substantial amount, however. I knew they used it for something during the ceremony, but since I had always had my eyes shut, I didn't know what. But though they did, there would always be at least one cup of blood left for me to clean off each of the two plates, as well as a small copper bowl that would have about half a cup left in it.
But independent of how much it actually was, it was enough to make me feel weak, and I assumed they took about the same amount during the second ceremony.
I had stopped thinking much about it over the years. It had simply become a part of my life, my way to pay for my living expenses. I had always done my best to not feel bitter about it, a lot of people had it much worse, so who was I to complain really. But that day I felt bitter as I sat in the chair and waited for them to come back. The main thing I felt bitter about, though, was that I had to be there, that I had to clean up their messes and give my blood to them.
If it had been Morana's mess I had been cleaning though, if it was for her I gave my blood, then I would have been happy and content. Though as that thought came to me, I knew that part of why I felt willing to do anything for her was the fact that she would never dream of asking for such a thing.
As the door to the basement opened again, I closed my eyes. Just like before, I tried to block everything out by thinking of Morana, but it didn't work as effectively this time. It didn't make me feel happy and at peace as before. Instead, it fueled the bitterness I felt.
I wanted to say "fuck you" to all of them and storm out of there. Take Morana and go some place far, far away. But I knew I couldn't do that. They would be able to find me wherever I went and they probably would and either drag me back and lock me up in the coven's prison or kill me on the spot. And if Morana was with me, I didn't even want to think about what they would do to her.
So I kept still as the athame pierced my skin again, this time it felt like the blade was on fire. And then I sat there as I grew weaker by the second, for each drop which left me.
By the time the ceremony was over, however, the bitterness had dimmed by the tiredness I felt. I wanted nothing more than to just slid off the chair, to the floor and fall asleep. But I had done that once and paid the price. I did not want to do that again.
For a minute, I sat there and collected all my energy. Then I stood up. For a moment, everything went black, I held onto the armrest and if I hadn't, I would have slumped to the floor.
When it cleared, I went about the cleaning I had to do. It was only the ceremonial things I had to deal with then, but even so, it took me a long time. I had to constantly take breaks and sit down to not faint.
It was after midnight when I had finished. All I wanted then was to lie down somewhere and sleep. What I usually would have done was to teleport myself straight to my bed. But if I did that, Morana would probably hear and maybe she would go to check on me. I couldn't have her see me as weak as I was then. In my mind, I could see the pity she would show me, and I didn't want her to ever pity me.
I made my way to the closet in the hallway. There I hung the cloak for the next time and got back dressed in my own clothes. Then I left the house.
I walked the street down until a cross-road. There I took a right, walked a bit more, then sat down. From my pocket, I pulled my phone to call a cab. I had messages from Morana, as well as a missed call, but I didn't open the messages to read. That was for tomorrow, for when I had rested and come up with a lie as to what I had been doing the whole day.
The cab driver had to get out of the car to wake me up when he came. I told him to drive me to the closest hotel. For a second it looked like he would protest, but then he did as I had asked.
I collapsed on the bed in the hotel room as soon as I got there. I didn't even take my shoes off.
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