All For a Price

(If you read this and have a better title let me know....) 

I leaned my back upon the cool, cement wall behind me. Carefully placing a tan hand on the sleek, tiled floor, in hopes that maybe I could feel them coming before I heard them. I shrank back into my corner still feeling weak. I tried to think of something else, something more calming but the sickening fear was the only thing that was there. An explosive action that would start in my stomach and rapidly grow throughout my body. Making me wish that I had made a different choice. It was just then that I heard the horrid noise of boots thumping on the floor, and the humming became louder and harder to ignore. Yet I pushed down my fear, and shrank back, hoping I could just disappear into the wall. All noise stopped, and I held my shaky breath. Maybe if I didn't breath they wouldn't know I'm here. The door to my room slowly creaked open, that small noise filling the room. Light from the hall poured in, luckily not on me. I was able to stay in the shielding darkness. Making it possible that they just might not see me, since I don't have any amount of bright colors on. "Lucy...." I heard him speak my mother's name, in his gravelly, low voice. "Our daughter is missing again." And with those words he turned around and left the room. Humming once again. A song he once sang me to sleep with when I had a nightmare. Back in the days when he was sane. When he had a mind.

Now that it was safe to move around my room again, I carefully got to my feet and softly went to my closet. With each step I prayed that he wouldn't hear me. He wouldn't come back to the room. That that door wouldn't creak open again. Even though I was barefoot, my feet made soft patting noises on the floor under them. I knew I had to be quick. I knew there wasn't much time left. I finally reached the closet and quickly drew the door back, to avoid any squeaks. I crawled into the closet just as the door was creaked open again. His voice came out soft and horse, but I knew better than to go to it. "Grace....Darling...please come out." I once more held my breath and didn't move from within in the closet. I counted to 60, and then he was gone again. I slowly let out my breath and ran a shaky hand through my blonde locks. I had to be quicker. Quieter. I silently drew a small, cardboard-shoebox closer to me and popped the lid off. Listening carefully for the arrival of my insane father once more. Once I was sure he wasn't near my room anymore I started looking through the box. Which proved difficult in the dark. After a bit of feeling my way around the box, I felt the forbidden roughness of my wand. I gingerly ran a slender finger up and down it, while holding it in one hand. It was just as light as I remember, with the weight of what it could do seeming to almost overwhelm my hand and cause it to drop. However it was the perfect length as to not make holding it seem uneven. I let out an unstable breath as I held it out as if I was about to cast a spell. The feeling of hope started low in my stomach and slowly rose up as I realized how close to freedom I was. I couldn't help the wide grin that spread across my face. Four months ago I had come home from Milford Academy for my week of spring break. Only to find my father mentally unstable. He didn't recognize me. He mistook me for my mother, and when I tried to leave to go back to school and learn how to fix him he looked me in this house. My wand was still safely tucked away in this box. It wasn't until a few weeks ago I finally made my way back up to the upper levels of the house. But I did it. I was about to be free. And then. Then I could find a cure to whatever was happening with his head. I took a slow breath in, kept my wand held out and thought about the place I wanted to go. The clean glossy halls of Milford, with it's bright lights in every room and the smiling faces of all the teachers. Just as the tip of my wooden wand started to glow green, the closet door was slid open fast. There was my father's face. His green eyes, a mirror to my own, filled with tears, that were rolling down his tan, bearded face. His dark brown hair was a mess, and his lower lip was trembling. Despite the insane appearance, he actually was keeping good track of his personal hygiene, expect for changing clothes. From the stains and wrinkles, it was obvious that he hadn't changed in a while. My wand started to wobble in my hand, and the glowing got dimmer. "Grace....please. Don't.." For a second he sounded so weak. So human. But I knew I had to do this. If I could just get back to school, I could ask Mr. Wright for help. I could fix him. I just needed to use a little magic to leave. I turned my bright green eyes away from him, I opened my pink lips to speak but quickly shut them. I didn't even know how to speak to him. With one more deep breath, the room filled with the green light from my magic and I was no longer in the closet. My father was no longer crying, begging, beside me. Inside I sat in the perfectly spotless hallway of Milford. I looked down at myself, suddenly aware that I haven't been permitted to shower in two weeks. I immediately felt like I didn't belong. With my snarly-blonde hair, bare tan feet caked in dirt, my short white shorts covered in dust smudges, and pink tank top barely passing a smell test. With a sigh I heaved myself back onto my feet and looked at the dirt stuck under my nails. I shook my head a little, now wasn't the time to be worried about appearances. I began my brisk walk to Mr. Wright's room. With every step praying that he is here, since I didn't know if it was a weekend or not. Within in a few minutes, that felt like eons, I reached his classroom. Since the door was opened I just walked right in. Mr. Wright didn't seem to be taken aback by my crude appearance, and luckily his room with empty. The brown, wooden desks were aligned in perfect rows just as I remembered them. White walls framed the room and only made the place seem more crisp and clean. Mr. Wright was smiling as he spoke the first words. "Ms. Grace, what a pleasure to have you back. We were a little worried that you might not be joining us again." I just started at him, trying to remember what I was going to ask him. "Now. I think you should go back to your room and clean up a little. You're lucky I was the first one to see you. Anyone else would have given you a plenty for being out of uniform." His voice was calm and even, like I had just come back from a vacation and that I wasn't covered in dust and dirt in the middle of his room. Just as I thought that, it hit me. "Mr. Wright. My father is insane." I paused thinking about how to describe his condition. I could feel myself choking up and the waver in my voice as I tried to keep clam. "He didn't recognize me. He thought I was my mother....and...and he kept me locked away in the basement, begging me to not touch my wand again. He didn't explain anything, and just when it seem that he might he started singing....then he thought that I was missing and started running about the house like a madman!" I lost control of my voice by the end, as it got higher pitched and a little faster. Mr. Wright kept the steady smile on his face the entire time. He didn't seem shocked by a single thing I said. "Grace." He started, dropping the formal of Ms. "Remember when you signed the contract at the start of the school year?" I simply nodded my head, confused as to where this was going. "You agreed to to the terms that all magic comes with a price. Any spell you cast has a repercussion and you signed saying that you understood that." I just stared at him for a moment. "...but...but I thought that only applied if you cast big spells..." Mr. Wright simply shook his head. "You did not read the fine print, Grace. ALL magic comes with a price. Every little bit you use. But you must keep in mind that you are not the one who has to pay the price." My eyes widen as I suddenly realized. "No...Nobody told me! I...I didn't..." I felt the cool tears rolling down my cheeks, and through the grime. "When you came here you said that you wanted to be a mage more than anything. You said you would do anything and pay any price. You signed a contract saying so, Grace." Mr. Wright's voice was slowly becoming harsher and he had dropped the smile. More tears flowed out of my eyes. I was too choked up to protest. "You are stuck here, Grace. And I do not see why you are crying. With power as great as yours it makes sense that the price is someone else's sanity." My body began to shake from the feeling of regret. "Please...no...." My voice was weak and shaky. Mr. Wright just shook his head. "Everything is okay, Grace. You will soon forget all about this." I looked at him through my watery eyes. "Don't tell me you're going to erase this memory..." Mr. Wright chuckled. It wasn't out of joy, but something more of amusement. "No, no. You do that for yourself. This is the third time you have been here, Grace. You will go back to your room in defeat, because you cannot get out of the contract, and you will go to sleep. The next day you have no memory of what happened." Before I could stop, I was sobbing. "But...the memory spell...those memories have to go somewhere...to someone..." Mr. Wright smiled again, but this time it was something dark. All I needed was that smile to know the reason my father didn't want me to use my magic. Suddenly the lights seemed to bright, the room too white. The whole place seemed sickening with it's pristine upkeep. All of it was just an elaborate lie. My breathing started to quicken as more tears fell. It's true what they say. All magic does have a price. And it's rarely ever small. But they never tell you that you're not the one paying the price.  

(Thanks for reading, I hoped you enjoyed this!)