Behind Lock & Key

Chapter 8

Slight Agatha All Along spoiler

Y/n's P.O.V.

Being hurt yet having no regret can go hand in hand. A part of me wants to stay, confront her when she slides under the covers, but the burning in my stomach is causing sweat to run down my back. I feel too clammy to stay in this bed a moment longer. The covers feel like a second skin attaching itself to me.

I get out of the bed, feeling how the bed linen releases my skin as I move out of its reach.

I slip into my clothes, considering how it might've happened if I had met her anywhere else. I wouldn't have been hurrying to gather my clothes, I wouldn't have felt as exposed, standing nude in another person's bedroom.

But I am. Cold wind hits my damp skin and sends goosebumps across it. I feel as if the air is watching me, judging me for not leaving earlier. 'I'm sorry,' I want to tell it, 'I'm sorry I'm not more protective of myself.'

I shake my head and slip on my shoe. I tiptoe down the stairs. It doesn't creak. It is, after all, a witch who lives here, we can fix it with a snap of a finger, but my heart is beating loudly in my chest. She could be standing downstairs, waiting to see if I'd accept her hunger for power, waiting to see if I'd accept her.

But she isn't here, I know that because my magic is coursing through my veins seeking me, seeking my allowance to let it go. Had Agatha been here, I would not only have felt my magic swirl around, right underneath my skin, I would have felt it begging me to get closer to her so it could feel her powers. My mind would be coloured by her purple, her colour. My mind would be filled with lilac, our colours combined.

I bite the side of my cheek. Lilac was such a pretty colour. And I had seen an explosion of lilac just moments ago, and I wouldn't ever want to be rid of it. I thought of myself as whole when my mind was dizzy with lilac.

My mind isn't blurred. It's sharp. It's only my own magic present, my own magic, and whatever is hiding behind the door. I chew the inside of my cheek. When she finds me gone from her bed, she'll know where I stand, but to dig into her secrets is quite different. It would be a sign of disbelief, and it would start an entire other complication.

I sigh, there's magic behind that door, and I should, for poor Wanda's fault, take a look. I could save her from the damage Agatha is about to cause. I could reach for the doorknob, push it open, and get rid of the dark magic. I could save Wanda.

But I've never been a hero, and I'm not about to start being one.

Outside, the sun is shining, as always. A blurb of white light flickers in the palm of my hand desperate to adjust Wanda's spell, desperate for a bit of gloomy weather, but I shouldn't. I won't spoil her fun. The woman I love is doing plenty.

Instead, I head for my front door. I should've never left my house, never asked for any bandages. I should've just sucked it up and let myself bleed, knowing my magic would never let me die because then it would die with me. It's too selfish to let me.

"It's just you and me from now on," I mutter to the angry sparks buzzing right beneath my skin. If I did not solely control my movements, I would be an animal walking around reacting on instincts. My magic would've made me a beast a long time ago.
I would be impulsive and untrustworthy, I would be cruel and too blunt, but I would be free of my feelings and my anxiety, and I would be free of my inability to properly control my magic.

I have considered the possibility of letting my magic tell me exactly what to do and how to react but a dreadful, cold pain slides down my spine when I think about how I could've saved William if I was in control. His beautiful, shimmering red hair that might've turned white had he not stood in front of me that day. His green eyes were full of care when I first saw them, but they were cracked by fright the last time I looked at him. He died terrified because I couldn't control my magic.

I couldn't block out my magic back then as I can now, but that doesn't make his dead any less my fault.

I don't realise I'm crying before I stand in front of my door, unable to reach directly for my doorknob because everything is blurred together.

My tears are thick and warm. They feel like burning honey, sticky and disgustingly sweet as they run down my icy cheeks and into my mouth. I can't tell if it's my tears or my saliva that's filling my throat, either way it makes me want to lay down and die because there is no use for me to keep breathing when my time is spent in misery.

An all too familiar face keeps reappearing in my head, and I wonder where Rio Vidal is when you need her?
Questions in unending numbers pop up each time her face and rather annoying smile shows itself, and she is the only one who can answer half of them.

I fumble for the doorknob that, unlike my tears, is cold beneath my fingertips. It has been left in the shadows despite the blooming sun in the sky. When I finally find the doorknob through my tears, I fling the door open, walk through it, and slam it shut before I let out a scream that rips itself loose from the bottom of my heart.

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This is quite short, I know, but I wanted to get a chapter out there and tell you I'm planning to finish this very soon!