The Boy Witch

19: The Spell

Once I can no longer hear the car's engine, I slip down to the floor against my front door. I fight the lump forming in my throat as I pull my knees tighter to my chest. Finally, I let the emotional bottle buried inside me crack.

I have never felt so betrayed before. It was the only thing I could feel. Betrayal and deep, longing sadness. After nearly a lifetime of being so careful, so decisively detached from the people around me, when I finally let someone in just a little bit I get bitten for it.

The lump in my throat swells, making me feel like I'm choking. Why do I feel so strongly about this? Why does it hurt so much? Sifting through the torrent of emotions is difficult, but I find a common feeling I've felt for the past six years; fear. Why was I afraid? Because I don't want them to leave me like everyone else when they find something they don't like.

Alex comes to my mind, making my heart ache painfully in my chest. The feeling of betrayal grows, but so does the sense of longing. Why does my heart yearn for someone that has hurt me so badly?

Why for him, of all people?

It hurts the greatest knowing that he broke my trust. Trying to decipher the reasoning behind my feelings only leads me round in circles, hurting my head, so I decide to leave it alone. Maybe when I'm in a better mindset I can figure out this tangled mess.

"Have you enough time sulking?" Morrigan asks at my feet. Annoyance drifts from her at the sight of my pathetic self, sitting against the door on the verge of tears. Not that I was crying, or was going to. She clicks her tongue, baring her teeth in contempt before turning on her paws and walking down the hallway. "Come on then. We've a spell to do."

I take a moment to pull myself together before following her into the kitchen. The black cat jumps up onto the counter, asking, "Do you remember the needed items?" I nod my head numbly before turning to the cabinets, opening and taking things out as I need.

First to go on the table is a mortar and pestle for mixing. Then, I take out the salt and other herbs from the most secluded cabinet, including basil, rosemary, cinnamon, sage, lavender, mint, black pepper, and ginger. From the same cabinet I pull out a small ceramic bowl, the white glaze having more than a few chips in it. I move the other spices and herbs aside in the cabinet and reach in, hesitating in grabbing the worn and slightly stained handle of the switch blade sitting in the back.

I ignore the dreadful sense of deja vu that begins to pool in my stomach and instead gather the items into my arms, turning and making my way to the side of the staircase. The small door was situated under the staircase, barely seeable and hidden behind an old flower vase table. I move the table aside with my foot and wait for Morrigan to push it open before descending the stairs behind it.

The basement in this house is cold and barren and cramped. The original intention of this room was to be for storage. Not for performing a spell, I'm sure. Once I put all of the stuff in my arms on the floor I manage to pull the hanging light switch, causing the old bulb to flicker on with a buzz. Seeing how small the room really is in the artificial light elicits a shiver down my spine, attempting to pull unwanted memories.

Taking a deep breath, I swallow the claustrophobic feelings creeping up my back. "It's alright," I mutter to myself as I sit down on the cold concrete floor. "You're fine, you're safe. You're no where near that cursed place." Even with the slightly comforting words I mumble to myself, flickering memories of the cold barren room cross my mind.

A black furred paw lands on my bare hand, pressing a sharp claw into my skin enough to give me a shock from the pain, but not enough to draw blood. I look at Morrigan, her black fur seeming to absorb the little light there was down here.