abominations.

stuck.

ABOMINATIONS

.。o○o。.★.。o○o。.

Elizabeth spent fifteen years of her life being isolated, ignored, and treated like a disease. Ever since her parents found out she was a siphon, she'd been cast out like some cursed relic — untouchable, unloved, and unwanted. The only person who ever saw her — really saw her — was her older brother, Malachai.

And now he was gone.

She didn't know what she expected after they were thrown into the prison world. Maybe he'd be waiting. Maybe they'd suffer together — as usual. But when she woke up, the roads were empty. Silent. Her brother was nowhere in sight.

She couldn't breathe.

Her worst fear had come true — she was alone.

Panic clawed at her chest. Her vision blurred. Her hands shook. Maybe it was a panic attack. She wasn't sure — she'd never had one before. But the world tilted, and her lungs refused to work, and her brain screamed that she had been abandoned all over again.

Hell was empty. And she was still in it.

She'd grown up with loneliness, but this was different. The kind of silence that felt like it was eating her alive.

She cried for days. Weeks, maybe. Time didn't work properly here. She begged for her brother, screamed his name until her throat bled. She barely ate, barely moved. She'd read once that was called "depression" or something.

Sounded about right.

It didn't help that she couldn't cook to save her life. Kai had always been the one with the perfect seasoning ratios, the control, the patience. She just kind of... guessed. Or set things on fire. Or forgot she was boiling water and nearly burned the kitchen down. Again.

Elizabeth was chaos. She knew that. Always had been. A thousand thoughts running in a thousand directions, never staying still long enough to focus on just one. But that was easier to manage when she had someone to distract her. Now? There was no one. Just her thoughts and the silence.

So she sobbed. She sobbed until she hated herself for it. She hated how weak she felt. How pathetic.

Then came the rage.

She screamed. Threw things. Anything near her would be flung across the room — furniture, dishes, books, vases. It didn't matter. She'd always had a problem with throwing things when she was angry. A bad habit, apparently.

Sometimes, if she got too emotional, her siphon magic would lash out — just like it used to. Not that she was allowed to use magic growing up. Siphoners don't get magic, her parents had sneered. You're dangerous. You break things.

As if she cared about their stupid things.

So she broke them now. In the prison world, she finally could. Her mother's beloved porcelain collection? Smashed. The pristine, sterile master bedroom her father never let her enter? Wrecked. She tore it all apart, laughing through tears.

"Fuck you, Joshuah and Miriam Parker," she muttered.

She even burned down her high school — for fun. It was oddly satisfying. She'd always wanted to do that. Fire fascinated her. When she was ten, she accidentally burned the house down — and instead of being afraid, she stood there watching it fall to ash, spellbound.

Fire destroyed. Just like her.

People called her psychotic. Unstable. Sociopathic. But she wasn't. Not really. Just... different. Raised wrong. Scarred deep. Okay, maybe she had a few sociopathic tendencies, but she wasn't a serial killer. She didn't go out of her way to hurt people. She just didn't care about most of them. Except Kai. Kai mattered.

She'd never killed anyone who didn't deserve it. Except, maybe, her sister. That was complicated. They were close once. Then she found out Elizabeth was another abomination. That changed everything.

Oh — and there was the fish. When she was four, she tried to cuddle him in bed. Didn't understand that he couldn't breathe out of water. That was the end of Mr. Bubbles. Her parents never let her have another pet. Pretty sure she also killed Kai's hamster. Or maybe it was a dog. She honestly couldn't remember.

Still — all things considered, her record was fairly clean.

Eventually, the rage quieted. Not disappeared — never disappeared — but dulled into something manageable. She started searching for answers. She knew what this place was — a prison world. She remembered enough from her father's whispers and her own eavesdropping.

She needed three things to escape:
    1.    The ascendant.
    2.    Magic.
    3.    The blood of a Bennett witch.

The ascendant wasn't hard. Of course her father kept it hidden in his bedroom — amateur move.

Bennett blood? That took years. But she was smart. Smarter than anyone gave her credit for. She scoured every record, every hospital, until she found one: Sheila Bennett. Apparently, she once gave blood under a different surname in Virginia. Took her forever, but she found it.

She had the blood. She had the ascendant.

But she didn't have magic.

That was the hardest part. The part that made her feel powerless all over again. Weak. Broken. A freak.

She hated it.

So she swore — the moment she got out, she'd never feel that way again. She'd take all the magic the world could offer. No one would stop her.

Years passed. Still no way out. So she tried something else.

She killed herself.

Over and over, in every way she could think of. But the prison world wouldn't let her go. Not even death wanted her.

So she drank. A lot. Alcohol numbed things. Blurred the edges of reality. Made the screaming in her head go quiet for a little while. And when she wasn't drunk, she studied. Spells, grimoires, magical theory, cooking basics — anything that might help.

Her father forbade her from learning magic.

So she learned everything.

And when — not if, when — she got out of here, she would be a fucking powerhouse. A goddamn magical hurricane.

She would find her brother. Free him. And they would burn the Gemini Coven to the ground.

A little family genocide never hurt anyone — at least, not anyone she cared about.

She would win. Because she always won.

But gods, she hoped it didn't take much longer.

Being stuck alone was boring as hell.