Part 7 (1/2)

My mother caressed herself, and lifted her white skirt for more. She begged them to finish her, to continue the a.s.sault. She was weak. My father yelled at her, trying to reach inside her mind, he was horrified by what she was doing. And yet he told her he did not blame her, and that he would always love her, he understood.

Another sick thud sounded from the club. This one smashed against his face, while I stood behind the grate and covered my mouth with my hands. Stupid child. Weak child. One f.u.c.king word from her and this could have been averted. One whisper from her lips and they could have died, just one...

Another sickening blow and with it the only sound left inside of the room is the Fae snickering, as they laughed and my mother's inaudible gibberish as she begs them for their touch. I turn from where I am sitting on my knees, watching as the child I had been tilted her small blonde head and wiped away the useless tears that streaked down her face.

If I'd been stronger.

If I'd not been so weak.

I'd still have my parents.

I noticed a new Fae has arrived-not sure what kind he was and he appeared to be arguing with the other ones who had savaged my family, the taller Dark Fae that seemed like the group's leader smiled unaffected by the newcomer's outrage.

”This wasn't supposed to happen here. We were only supposed to question them and retrieve the Gift! What have you done?” The new Fae argues angrily.

”Consider them questioned. The weak fool should have never agreed to retrieve the Gift. He brought this upon all of us by changing his mind! Maybe now everything will right its course and we will go to war as should have happened long ago.” He slid closer to my mother, ”The next person who comes through the door, you will shoot them wh.o.r.e,” He smiled with his cold lifeless smile, and whispered his heartless words against my mother's ear.

”I will,” my mother whispered softly. Her eyes flickered on the b.l.o.o.d.y lump that had been my father. He wasn't dead, but my child-self didn't know that, she was waiting.

I'm not sure how long I had waited in that hiding place or how much time had pa.s.sed before I climbed out. It had felt like an eternity to me back then.

I watched as the Fae tore the house apart, they were looking for something, searching. Time pa.s.sed, I had kept still not daring to move, or uncover my mouth where my hand was holding the scream at bay. I listened, the door closed and still I didn't come out.

My mother was holding the gun, the one they gave her. The silver caught in the sun's rays as it streamed through the windows. When I finally did climb out, she just watched me. I wasn't sure if it was because I didn't walk through the door that she hadn't shot me right away.

She was alive, and yet her mind had been cleared of everything. She was a blank slate. No memories of us remained inside her mind. No recognition showed inside her eyes. Nothing. ”Momma,” I whispered.

She turned and held out the gun and took aim at me. I didn't back down, didn't falter. ”Momma, please!” My voice had shook. Stupid child can't see that she is gone, couldn't tell that her mother had been turned FIZ.

”Syn...” my father's voice was shallow, the blood he was choking on floods from his lips.

”Daddy?” I moved towards him, but the gun followed me.

I stopped, glaring down the business end of the gun. My eyes had swum with tears. I could feel the life draining from my father, his breathing grew shallow with each attempt he made to get more words out.

”Never...forget Syn...secret...our secret...never forget,” his eyes rolled back in his head, the child struggled to understand his words, struggled to understand why he was staring at the ceiling. He'd died right in front of me that day. She didn't understand death, she will.

What Secret? I never understood this part, or what he had told me.

She turned to go back to her mother, the gun still aimed at her. She was going to pull that trigger soon. Her finger was locked on the trigger, her void eyes seeing nothing. ”Mommy please, I'll be good!” The child wailed.

The gun went off.

I watched as the child's hand flicked the air, and deflected the bullet.

It went back the way it had come from.

Blood splattered and covered my face. I stood there and watched her, without making a sound. The only sound inside the room was the sound of my heart beating with magic. I killed my mother. Instead of sending the gun out of her hands I killed her.

I look at the child I was, her shoulders drop as she falls to the floor trying to figure out how to fix her mother. In my mind I had thought I could, I'd been five. I found new words that day. Death, destruction, despair and most of all, I learned what it felt like to hate.

I watch as she struggles to pick everything up, slipping and sliding on the blood around the corpse. She hears a noise, the door. She throws up the protective s.h.i.+eld, the one she should have thrown up to save them had she been stronger, faster. Smarter.

Marie screamed her voice was shrill as she took in the horrors of the room. I winced, as my child self-turned, covered in my mother's blood. I didn't let her into the protection of the spell and she wasn't stronger than the child I had been.

Alden came in behind her, his own gasp grated on my nerves.

”Synthia, are you hurt?” Marie asked her voice low and clear.

”My mother is broken. Father is sleeping,” the five year old said, as if it was true but she knew better. She knew by then that they were dead. She can feel the loss of them inside of herself, where once there had been love, was now an empty void of death in its place.

”Did she do this?” Alden's whisper made my skin crawl. This is the work of evil, even the child knew that much. In the end she will blame herself, because father had been a warrior, and he'd died to protect her.

”They were looking for something, was it me?” The child asked with eyes too old for a five year old.

”Alden, enough. She's in shock,” Marie whispered as if the child wouldn't hear.

I pulled back, shoving the memories of what happens next away...my hands ripping into my memories as if I could shred them. I won't relive the next part-taking their souls. At five I was stronger than any other Witch. History would record the next details of what transpired. I'd be a lab rat for Alden for years after the deaths of my parents because of it.

”Enough, we risk damaging her mind if you continue,” Ryder says softly his voice penetrating the illusion.

The room turns white again, my body shaking with violent spasms. I ground my teeth together, wanting to kill them for seeing what happened.

”Interesting, they were looking for something,” the Fae behind me said.

Dristan cleared his throat. ”I don't recognize any of them, they look-”

”Enough,” Ryder interrupted sharply and glared at him.

I blinked, bringing the room back into focus as I fought for air and stood before I found my balance. My chest heaved from the pain of reliving the worst day in my life. My eyes flickered to Ryder's golden gaze. He looked almost puzzled and disturbed by what he had seen. I turned to push past his men, but I was boxed in as if they knew I would leave. I hated what I found in their eyes. Pity.

”Move,” I snarled, wanting to get the f.u.c.k out of here, to go home and curl into a ball until the feeling of hate and hopelessness pa.s.ses. It normally takes days.

”She was a victim,” Zahruk said softly.

”I am. Not. A. Victim!” I growled low and clearly p.r.o.nounced each word.

”No? Then what are you?” He asked, angered by my words.

”I'm a survivor.”

Zahruk bowed his dark blonde head. I'd never allowed myself to be a victim from that day forth. I'd fought hard and was best in the cla.s.s I graduated with from the Guild academy. Marie had been there every step helping me, cheering me on. Alden had blamed me, but with good reason.

I'd pulled their souls and refused to allow them to leave me. Fear was a b.i.t.c.h. It could make you do things you never thought yourself capable of. I'd pulled their souls before I had known what I was doing. It had been grief which had made me act hastily, mixed with young age and too much power. I'd ended up branded with two stars upon my shoulders as a reminder of my first failure in life.