The Frog and The Beast

The Witch Chapter 5

I was shocked—confused and afraid all at once. I didn't know what to say, or what to do. In four years, I had seen no one but the witch. No one kind. No one knew. I retreated instinctively, slipping back into the shadowed corners of my room as if I could disappear into them, as if distance alone could make him vanish.

"I apologize for the deception, miss," he said, his voice soft—gentle in a way that felt almost unfamiliar to me. "And for frightening you. It's just for the past two weeks, I've heard the most beautiful singing on my way to school, and I couldn't help but wonder who it belonged to. I must confess that curiosity has always been my greatest flaw."

He was beautiful.

His hair was the color of a clear blue sky, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost unreal. His skin was smooth, untouched by harsh sun or bitter cold, as though the world had been kinder to him than it had ever been to me. And his eyes—his eyes were green, deep and bright, like the distant waters of the Persian Gulf I had only ever known through books.

He looked to be my age. Tall, strong—but there was something else in him, too. Something quieter. Thoughtful. An intelligence that lived behind his gaze rather than on the surface of it.

"Who... who are you?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

"I'm Jellal," he said, leaning forward slightly, trying to see me through the shadows but unable to quite make me out. "May I know your name?"

"I... I don't know if I should be talking to you," I admitted. "I don't know you."

"Fair point," he replied easily. "If you'd like, I can leave."

"No—don't go!"

The words escaped before I could stop them.
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how desperate I must sound. And maybe I was. He was a stranger—a teenage boy, no less—but after four years of solitude, I was desperate human interaction, no matter the risk. Besides, I was sixteen. Who at that age has good judgment?

"I just..." I hesitated, stepping slightly out of the shadows, though not enough for him to fully see me. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do. You see I...I've never met anyone before. That is, not since I was left here four years ago."

"You're kidding," he said, a faint, disbelieving laugh slipping out.

"No. I'm not." I shook my head, though he could barely see it. "I haven't left this place in four years."

His expression shifted—surprise fading into something sharper, more serious.

"How come?" he asked. "Is this some kind of... I don't know, unorthodox penitentiary? I mean—" he glanced around, almost sheepish, "it's a lot nicer than any juvenile hall I've ever heard of. Honestly, it's nicer than my apartment."

Despite everything, a small, humorless breath left me.

"No," I said quietly. "I'm not a criminal. And this isn't a jail."

I hesitated, fingers tightening in the fabric of my sleeve.

"At least... not legally."

Jellal straightened a little, his earlier curiosity giving way to concern. "Then why are you here?"

What could I tell him? The truth? That I was a witch and that another witch had stolen me and my siblings away? That she locked me in this tower because I stopped her from eating my brother? He'd probably think this tower was just another loony bin, and I was one of Nurse Ratched's patients. He'd be so spooked he might just jump out the window. Well, maybe not jump out this window; a fall from this height would probably scramble his brains.