Cursed Waters

7

Sam was right — Millie hadn't been fair.

What had she been thinking, really? That she could just waltz into his home, drop the Curse Bomb on him and assume he'd still want to be her friend, anyway? She hadn't even been able to get past her whole "I want you but can't have you" speech, which she'd worked on for almost two days. It was like the second she'd seen his eyes, so freaking dark and warm, all rational had gone out his damn window.

Maybe she should've stuck to texts. At least that way, she'd be able to decide her reactions instead of letting her body do the talking.

And what the hell was up with the stripping thing? She'd taken off her shirt to show him the scars. She had to be insane. Maybe Angel was right: all this curse shit had gone to Millie's brain and was messing her functions up. It wouldn't be the first time a woman in her family had gone mad over a boy and a curse.

As Millie entered her house, she let the back door fall shut behind her with a bang. Luce and Leni were at the kitchen table again, and when they saw her, they both opened their mouths, but quickly snapped them shut when they noticed her expression. Now, Millie thought, was not a good time to be freaking out her younger sisters, but she couldn't make her face morph into anything less murderous.

She was just so fucking angry.

Why couldn't she be a normal girl? Why couldn't she just live across the street from one of the cutest boys in school and be happy about that because, wow, hey, she got to look at him every morning. Why couldn't she go out with Sam and just relish in happiness, not be too afraid to fall?

For Sam, it was all about the before — getting to know her, riding around in the car with her, finding out what made her tick. But for Millie, it was the after — it was the fall. If she even opened up a little bit, she was susceptible to every kind of horrible thing that could ever happen to her, just because she had dared to love someone.

It was selfish, really. Her whole family, she thought, was selfish.

Her parents — her aunt — those before her . . . how could they do what they'd done, fall in love, knowing that they'd end up destroying those that loved them, because of it? Every time Millie saw one of her sister's faces or when she heard Drew quietly praying to a God she didn't even believe in, she felt her heart clench and release. Each time, it got a little bit harder to look away.

She never knew if this was her last moment. What if she walked out the door tomorrow, after an awful fight with Clea, and there he was: some beautiful boy with eyes like topaz and a heart made of diamonds, ready to whisk her away to a land filled with love and sugary sweetness? What happened then, when she fell hard and all her work, all her love for her family, disappeared with her death?

Not to mention, by falling in love with someone else, she was making a choice for them. They didn't get a say in the matter and she was taking away their right to ever love again, to live, because she was fucking horny and lonely.

"Whoa," a deep voice said as she slammed into the living room. "You okay there, Squirt?"

Millie glanced at Drew, lounging on the couch with Daphne. She had her feet on his thighs and he was ignoring them in favor of staring at Millie.

She looked over Drew's and Daphne's heads, at the mirror on the wall behind them, and almost cussed. She looked bad — flat-eyed, her cheeks were growing redder with each second, trembling lips.

She wanted answers. She wanted to know what the fuck had happened that generations of her family had been forced to endure hell. She wanted to go and kick down every door in her town just to find the assholes that did this to her, that did this to Sam, that did this to her parents, her family, to Angel and Clea and Daphne and Luce and Leni. She wanted to hurt someone because she couldn't do anything else.

"I almost thought about killing myself," Millie said, and she wasn't sure why she was being so honest. "But then I realized that if I did that, I wouldn't get to break this fucking curse."

Drew flinched. "Millie — ?"

Daphne pulled her feet off Drew. "Babe, what are you talking about?"

"I'm done with this." Millie waved around, gesturing vaguely. "I'm done living like this. I'm terrified, every second of my life. I'm terrified of dying. I'm terrified of loving anyone. I'm terrified of being happy. I just want this to end, and I'm going to find a way to stop this curse or die trying."

Daphne and Drew exchanged a glance. Drew looked more upset than surprised, while Daphne was wearing a scary mask of indifference.

But neither of them said anything. Behind her, Luce and Leni crept out of the kitchen and up the stairs, trying to sneak away before she turned on them.

Her family was terrified for her...of her. If they got too close, they were liable to go down with Millie's sinking ship.

Drew, looking uncertain, began to rise from the couch, one hand ripping through his short, dark hair.

Millie didn't wait for whatever lecture her uncle was thinking up. Instead, she spun and ran up the stairs at high speed, practically taking them two at a time. Behind her, someone yelled her name, but she didn't slow down, and stomped all the way to the top.

Instead of stopping at her bedroom, she jumped up once she'd cleared the stairs, ignoring the searing pain in her abdomen, and grabbed the attic ladder above her. She yanked down hard, barely flinching at the awful banging noise it made.

In the attic, she pulled up the ladder behind her, hoping that no one would bother her. She was a woman with a mission and wasn't in the mood for objections. She had her sights set on one particular thing — and she knew exactly where it was.

Millie waded through the cluttered attic, shoving over tall stacks of boxes and kicking the numerous trunks away from her. She knew what she was looking for and, honestly, didn't feel like going through any of her families' "priceless" junk.

When Millie came across the dresser, she dropped to her knees, trying to work past the pain that seemed to be eating her up from the inside out. She knew she was putting stress on her stitches, probably pulling a few of them lose, but her physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain that was playing out inside her. She just needed something to make her feel like she was trying.

Millie yanked open the bottom drawer, unsurprised to find at least six leather bound diaries cluttering the space.

She grabbed them all, holding them to her chest.

If there was one way to find out what had started the curse — it was to go back to the very source. It looked like Millie was going to be doing some time traveling tonight.