Witch {Book One} [UNEDITED]

XXXII: The Dream

I stared at the coffin for a good minute before turning around and promptly walking out of Common. I heard someone say "someone hasta go get 'er" but the door closed behind me and I didn't bother turing around to see who it was. I made it across the street before someone grabbed my wrist. I flinched and turned to see who it was. Sammy. 

"I saw her again," I whispered, looking Sammy dead in the eye. 

"Who?" She asked. She let go of my wrist. It was clear I wasn't going to run off again. 

"Ada . . ."  I looked at the overcast sky just as a few fat raindrops fell down. "I was at the Bitchy Witchy an' I think I was drunk an' I saw her an' she talked to me an' . . . hell, she's gonna try to kill Thomason. She wants me t'fail the trials." Sammy wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me. 

"We won't let you fail the trials and we won't let her kill Thomason," she murmured. "Now we have to do this next trial. If you don't, you're doing exactly what she wants you to do." 

"How am I gonna destroy her like Annie said to do?" Sammy visibly tensed and stepped away from me. 

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, we have to go bury you alive." She took my hand and dragged me back to Common. I silently pushed open the door and silently walked to the coffin and silently climbed in. 

"Come get me in twenty four hours," I muttered, looking at Sammy. She quietly nodded. One of the boys--I couldn't tell which--pulled the lid over and soon everything was dark. I heard someone shoot a nail gun along the edge of the wood. Memories of being crucified flooded back and I tried to fight them away. 

Just twenty four hours. You can survive twenty four hours being buried alive.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to fall asleep. 

>>>

"Why does everyone hate Lucy?" I asked my invisible friend--Annie. Her name was Annie--one day. I was sixteen years old and we were sitting at the cemetery, right by my mother's grave.

"She scares people," Annie said. She leaned forward and picked a daisy and stuck it behind her ear. 

"Why does she scare people?" I asked as I turned around to face my momma's grave. Madeline Lee. Only in her early thirties. Beloved mother, wife, daughter, friend. A bunch of bullshit if you asked me. I worked up a wad of spit in my mouth and spat on her grave. She deserved that. Most teenagers hated their parents. I despised mine. 

Annie was rarely showing up anymore, and when she did, it wasn't for more than an hour. Of course I didn't believe that she existed, so she only came to me in my dreams. 

This was a dream, right?

"She dresses differently. She has that creepy goat. She has a backstory no one knows about. She's just . . . scary . . ." Annie shrugged. I turned back around so I was facing her again. 

"I dress differently. I have a shit backstory. I'm not scary," I said. "And you dress differently. And You have a backstory I don't know about. You don't scare me." She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. The daisy fell out and landed on her bare foot. 

"That's different. Lucy has a . . . a vibe . . ." She picked the daisy up and set it on top of my momma's grave. I flicked it off and her shoulders slumped. 

"Is she the devil?" I asked, suddenly lowering my voice. Annie sat up straight, her face going slack. I tried to read her expression, but there wasn't an expression to read. All I did was say four simple words and I managed to make Annie--fearless, brave Annie--seemingly scared. 

"Wake up," she murmured, standing up. I frowned and stood up as well. 

"What?" I demanded. "Wake up? I don't need to wake up . . ." 

"Your imagination is wild. Just . . . wake up." 

And then she disappeared.

>>>

When  I opened my eyes, everything was dark. It took me a full minute to remember that I had just been shoved into a coffin. And then everything was bright. I moved my arm to shield my eyes from the sun and made no effort to sit up. A few seconds passed before I moved my arm away. I blinked a couple times and my eyes adjusted to the new bright light. I was at the cemetery. Sammy was there, along with the other three Horsemen. Alice and Gabriel and Jemma and my Witchy Boys were also there. Lucy and Leviathan were not. I sat up and saw a freshly dug hole next to me. 

Those sons of bitches actually buried me. 

I reached up and took Sammy's hand. She pulled me up and out of the damned wooden box. I leaned against her and she brushed dirt out of my hair. I opened my mouth to say something but found that my throat was beyond being bone dry. 

"Let's get you home," Sammy whispered. She wrapped one arm across my shoulders and Glitch rushed to help steady me on my other side. I saw dirt on his hands and knew that he must've dug my grave. The two of them led me to Jemma's car. I climbed in the back and stared out the window the whole drive to Safe  House. 

Sammy and Glitch helped me out of the car and into Safe House. I noticed that it had an array of locks on the door. I couldn't tell if it was so we could keep me safe or so we could keep Thomason safe. 

I sat on the couch in the sitting room and Alice brought me a glass of water. I drank it quickly. 

"Are you hungry?" Jemma asked, taking the empty glass from me. I nodded, but still said nothing. She set the glass down on a shelf and took her phone out of her pocket. "I'll order us a pizza. Sound good?" I nodded again and she left the room to do just that. 

Sammy sat next to me and told everyone to give me some space. 

"Thanks," I murmured. My voice was scratchy and dry. Unused. I hated it. 

"I know you said not to bury you," she said out of the blue. "But Ada is going to do everything in her power--and she has a lot of power--to make sure that you fail these trials and get killed by her Hell Hounds." 

"I love you," I said quietly. I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips felt warm, unlike my cold, dry, almost-dead lips. I put one of my hands on the back of her head and tangled my scarred and tattooed fingers in her red hair. My other hand braced the cushions of the couch so I wouldn't fall over. She slowly draped her arms around my neck and kissed back. It wasn't as powerful as our first kiss, but it was still passionate and deep and it made my heart do somersaults in my chest. 

She pulled back and hugged me. I buried my face in the crook of her neck and closed my eyes. 

"I ain't gonna cry," I muttered, though it was a lie. Bandit Gavel Lee did not cry. She never cried. She wasn't pathetic enough to cry. 

And then I was crying. 

I don't even know what the hell I was crying about but I was crying. It wasn't a sobbing; just a noisy and obnoxious blubbering. Maybe I was crying because I knew I was going to die. No. I didn't fear death. Perhaps it was because Thomason might die. No. I wouldn't cry about that. I let out another cry and then I realized why I was crying. 

I was scared.