bitchcraft//fillie

Chapter One

tame impala - "the less i know the better"  

Millie always adored the fresh scent of lavender and vanilla first thing in the morning, in which burned off of a medium-sized candle she'd bought a couple of months earlier from an antique store that was going out of business. Something about it satisfied her; however, it had a mildew hint to its burn because of how long it had been molded in that foggy, gray color of a jar. She didn't know why she loved the smell so much. All that was for sure, was that it was the first thing she wanted to smell after a long night's sleep. Before she'd slip into her pure wool bed of purple silk sheets, the candle would ignite a flame from a red grill lighter she'd found scalding underneath the warm bedding of her aunt's Chevy sitting out in the hot driveway months earlier.

 The early horizon swept strokes of sunlight against the bedding and flooring of her bedroom, as she sat up with a tensed extension of both of her arms that released a very needed stretch before she carefully slumped out of bed, walked towards her plain wooden nightstand that was only accompanied by a simple tube of red lipstick, and a few female hygiene accessories, and she blew the candle's dim flame out from its overnight burn with a paltry breath. 

 This was her absolute favorite part of the day, just something about it, and she never knew what it was. Another undoubtedly preferred thing to do when it comes to Millie Bobby Brown that is is to reel in whoever's interest to her. Ever since she got a standing ovation for her performance at a play based off of 'The Wizard of Oz' in second grade, she loved all eyes on her at all times. Whether or not that attention was negative or positive, it doesn't matter to her; she loves it either way. 

"Oh, come on, Millie! It's almost eight o'clock, you're going to be late again!" Her aunt's stern tone of voice was something that Millie had gotten very used to hearing over the years, as she rolled her eyes at the scold coming all the way from the other side of the cottage-like house with exterior wooden boards and everything in between, and at the realization that she didn't even have an outfit picked out yet, or shoes. 

"Lay off, Aunt Myrtle! I'll be ready in just a minute!" Millie hollered back unhurriedly, as she ambled towards her creaky closet doors to search for a last minute outfit that she hoped would look presentable with such little time to decide what to select. 

 A tangerine-colored long sleeved t-shirt grazed against her fingertips, as suddenly decided to just throw it on without much time to spare before a pair of washed-up denim jeans with several holes spread across the shin and thigh slipped onto her legs, quickly dressing to prevent any further delay. She couldn't help but worry about whether or not the boys who also attended her school still would think she looked cute, or if the other girls would loathe her out of jealousy. She wanted all eyes on her. 

With a breathy sigh escaping her lips, she plopped onto her wool bed to quickly slip on a regular pair of black combat boots resting right beside her before she then stood up to grab her Jansport backpack with neon pineapples designed all over, as she briskly made her way out of her bedroom and into the living room. 

 "Finally! You're late in ten minutes, let's go." Her aunt persisted who impatiently waited on the couch for her to come in, as Millie restrained another sassy eye-roll, quickly walking towards the front door to exit out of. 

-

"I don't care if you all fail this test. It's your procrastination and laziness that hurts you, not me." Miss Whithers, the eleventh-grade Algebra Two teacher spewed at the front of the room without a worry in the world as she then took a comfortable seating behind her desk, the plain blue jeans she wore plopping down against the computer chair, as all of the students that Millie didn't know very well besides just one gazed into the abyss, not attentive towards the teacher's mini-lecture at all.