A Witch's Scorn

Chapter Three

I just stared blankly at it.

Positive.

I just couldn’t believe it. It had to be wrong. I shut my eyes for a while and then opened them.

Positive. It still said positive. My eyes stung at the sight. My throat burned and my heart felt like it was being clutched in a monkey’s fist. My stomach was doing summersaults. It had to be wrong. But this was the third test I had taken, and they all said—positive. There was no doubt about it, I was pregnant.

I broke into sobs. My hands clenched my head, and pulled on my hair. I face planted into my pillow and let out a scream. It had been two months since my rape and I hadn’t told a soul. I had never considered that I got pregnant. What was I going to do? How would I provide for this child? Did I want to keep this child? What if it looked like any of my attackers. Could I look at a child that reminded me of the horrific incident? Would I hate it? I couldn’t bear to look at a child, the way dad looked at me—dad! How in the world was I going to tell him?   

I sat in my room and cried for a couple of hours. I cried until my eyes were too dry to cry another tear. I had to get away. I had to get some air. I walked over to my window and slid it open and walked onto the balcony. The penthouse view had gotten old and dull. I climbed onto the balcony railing and looked down below. I bent at the knees and leapt, soaring across the street below and landing on the building next to door, landing with grace and ease.

It felt so good exercising like this. It actually took my mind off things for a moment. I jumped to the next building, landing with skill once more. My confidence was defiantly building. Jumping from a fifty story building certainly did not trouble me anymore. I jumped to the next building, which was much farther away—to farther away.

The wind rushed up my face as I fell. The street was approaching fast, too fast. It was over, I was done for. Super speed and strength could not save me, or my unborn child now. The street was a few feet away now. People were beginning to look up from the street and scream at the falling body. My heart was screaming! I wanted nothing more than to be in my room.

Suddenly a new kind of air began to blow on me. It was warm, and somewhat comforting, I felt like I was taking a warm bath. The street, now inches from my face, faded away. The people, screaming in shock vanished. I felt as if someone had grab me by the collar of my shirt and was pulling me back up. The sky, the streets, the fresh air, all vanished. Suddenly I felt something pressing against my stomach and pink began to appear. I gasped to find myself lying face down on my pink sheets, in my room.

What had just happened? This must be part of this witch thing. The word still brought a tingle to my mouth. I felt much better, and powerful, powerful enough to tell dad about my “condition.” I stormed downstairs immediately. I had to tell him now, while I had the courage.

I walked into the living room. It was their CNN hour. What was I thinking? “Who are you?” Isabelle questioned as I walked in on them.

“What do you want?” my father grunted. I had to do it quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I’m pregnant.” More like ripping off a limb. Instead of beating around the bush, I took a chainsaw to it.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Dad said as he took of his glasses, “A tramp, just like your mother.”

“Couldn’t keep them crossed,” Isabelle said with tightly pressed lips.

My heart sank, and tears began to flow. Here I was being attacked, for something that wasn’t me fault.

“Your tears won’t save you, you little skank,” Isabelle said with a smirk.

“I was rapped,” I said through sobs.

“Oh don’t do that,” Isabelle sneered, “I hate little harlots like you. You get yourself knocked up and then cry rape!”

“I was raped,” I spat.

“If you were raped, why didn’t you say anything?” My father said with a straight face.

A lump in my throat forced me to be silent. I didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I’ll schedule an abortion,” Isabelle said reaching for her phone.

“No,” I shrieked, rage fuming in my voice, “You will not kill my baby. I refuse to let you.”

“Well than you can’t live here!” Isabelle grinned, “Can she honey?” There was a long moment of silence.

“Right girl,” my father said as he grabbed the remote, “On your way.”

I was in shock. Did he really just kick his fourteen year old daughter out of his house? “If your not gone in one minute, I’ll have you thrown out.”

At first I was filled with sadness. Tears were pouring down my face now. Then I looked at Isabelle. She was sitting there, grinning, smug. I hated her. I hated her so much! Almost as much as I hated Trey! Then I realized she had the same smirk Trey did as he climbed on top of me, that same look of evil satisfaction. Then my sadness turned to fuming rage. I felt flames burning with in.

“You heard him, get your cheap self out of this house. Right now, or else I’ll—”

“SHUT UP!” With a loud crack, a large bolt of green lighting rushed forward and struck Isabelle in the chest. She, and her chair, flipped over backwards. She fell on the floor with a huge black scorch on her chest. She shook violently, with white foam coming from her mouth.

That smirk was gone. That smug expression had been changed to one of terror. I couldn’t help but smile. “What have you done!” my Dad shrieked! He leaned over her, as she shook uncontrollably. “You’re just like your wicked mother!” he bellowed.

“Don’t you say a word against my mother,” I yelled. With another surge of rage, green electricity jumped from my hand and hit Isabelle once more. When it hit here there was a loud CRACK, followed by a flash of bright light, which blinded me. When the light subsided, there laid Isabelle, frying in green flames. My father, who had been knocked backward gasp in horror. He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a gun. “You would shoot your own daughter!” I yelled. There was a sound of rushing wind, as green energy shot at him. He was flung back into the television, knocked out in the glass. He laid there, knocked out.

The green flames began to spread. The room was quickly ablaze.

Get out of that house!

I turned and dashed up the stairs. In seconds flat I was in my room. I snatched my I.D and all the cash I could find. The flames were definitely magical, for they spread quickly and were outside my door in seconds. I wasted no time. With everything I needed in my purse, I slung it over my shoulder and dove from my window and rolled on to my balcony. I jumped from the balcony and landed in a roll onto the nearby building.

I looked back at my room. My window had flames bursting from it. My room, my home, my family and my world was all up in flames. Gone.

“Well,” I sighed, “I guess it’s time for me to find new ones.”