The Huntress

Part One

"Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it's wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting there for it."- Terry Pratchett

Normal people say to look on the bright side of things, but how can we when demons are waiting around each corner? They are always there, waiting in the darkness. There is silence wherever I go. Yes, I see the marks on my skin. Yes, they are there. I see them, just keep walking. I have fought my demons, but there are more to come, there always is. You will be fine, but as for me? I'm not sure. My fate was sealed when my step dad sent me to live in Louisiana with my grandparents. I have always struggled with the fact that I lived millions of miles away from my parents, but that wasn't the half of it. The reason I was sent here was because of my demons. My parents thought that if I went to live with my grandparents, they would go away. I would stop cutting or burning or something. It didn't help, and neither did Aloysius Knightly. He's another story for another time. I never had the best time in school. I was the odd kid out in every situation. The only place I flourished was either online, writing, or in art class, but even in there I was the kid by the cabinets, being told to push in my chair so everyone could pass behind me, so someone could get through. I was always at the back of the class. They would put me at the front but I still fell behind. I know, Cliche, but it was and is a struggle. Not everyone understands how to identify imaginary numbers, or find why Hamilton could have a crush on his sister-in-law, fuck Maria Reynolds, and have 7 children. High school is confusing with the homework, drama, family, and every other piece that had nothing to do with reality. It left no time for me in between everything. Moving was not the answer, but it had to be done if it was my mother's bidding. Which it was.

"What are you thinking' about sweetie?" My grandmother asked, walking into my pale butter yellow room.

"Oh, what? Uhhh." I manage to stutter out, pulling my sleeves down. "Nothing, just school." I said, trying to cover up the fresh cuts from last night.

"Are you alright Meg?" She asked, slowly easing herself into the chair at my old desk. I could tell by the way she sat down that her arthritis was only getting worse.

"Yes Grandma, I'm fine. How is your arthritis? Are you taking your pain meds?" I ask, trying to divert her attention to herself and not my worsening mental state.

"Yes, I took them an hour ago. Would you be able to help your grandfather in the kitchen for dinner tonight?" She asked, rubbing her knuckles, trying to ease her pain.

"Yes, what is on the menu?" I asked, trying to keep the questions away from me. I could tell how much my grandmother wanted to check under my sleeves and jeans to make sure I was clean. I was a week fresh out of River Oaks Mental Hospital. "If you are wondering, I am still clean grandma. I'm fine." I said reassuring her with a lie.

"Okay honey, and be prepared to cut a lot of peppers and such. Your grandfather wants to try a new fajita recipe." She said, exiting my room.

I was glad my grandmother had left, but I thought of the new recipe my grandfather wanted to try. I thought of how I would be able to keep my arm covered. My demons were back, I just didn't want to think of the other demons out there waiting to harm me. The ones in our minds aren't the only ones. I still can't believe I convinced my grandmother, the former slayer of the Lukas line, that I was clean. And of course I was the heir to the 'throne' more like chopping block. I am not prepared for what this life has to offer, but the Lukas line must go on and I must slay the little shits that roam the streets of our fair town of New Orleans.

"Are you ready for an adventure?" My grandfather asked, yelling up the rickety stairs going up to my room.

"Yes grandpa, just let me clean up my desk a little." I said. I lied, but it wasn't a horrid lie, I just needed a couple more minutes to myself. They were rare in this Lukas house. I sat on my pale blue duvet for a couple minutes, before mustering the courage to walk down the stairs. They always creaked as I walked down the stairs. Every time I hit the third step closest to my doorway, I have to look behind me in paranoia. No one is ever behind me, but it makes the loudest creak out of all of the steps, any normal person would look behind themselves on that step.