Chapter 6: A Balm for My Aching Heart

Marie’s room was quiet, her small figure settled on a stool as she waited for me to untangle her golden curls. Her innocent smile was a balm for my aching heart, and for a brief moment, the storm of emotions inside me calmed.

I picked up the brush from her bedside table and ran it gently through her hair. The golden strands shimmered in the soft light of the candle on her nightstand.

“You’re so nice, Jade,” Marie said softly, breaking the silence. “I wish everyone else was nice to you too.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I paused mid-stroke, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. “That’s very sweet of you to say, Marie,” I said, my voice trembling just enough to betray the emotion behind my words. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You just focus on being the wonderful little girl you are.”

“But I do worry,” she said, turning to face me, her blue eyes wide with concern. “I hear them talk about you, and it’s not fair. You’re not bad. You’re not a witch like they say. I know you’re not.”

The sincerity in her voice made my chest ache. “Thank you, Marie,” I whispered. “That means more than you know.”

“Sometimes,” she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper as if sharing a secret, “I think Mama says those things because she’s scared. She’s scared of things she doesn’t understand.”

Her words left me speechless. For such a young child, Marie’s insight was startling.

“She doesn’t need to be scared of me,” I said softly. “I’d never hurt anyone here. You know that, right?”

Marie nodded vigorously. “I know. You’re like my big sister.”

I smiled despite the heaviness in my heart. “And you’re like my little sister,” I said, brushing a hand gently over her hair. “I’ll always look out for you, Marie. No matter what.”

“Promise?” she asked, holding out her tiny pinky finger.

“Promise.” I hooked my pinky with hers and gave it a small shake.

For a moment, the tension of the evening melted away, replaced by the warmth of her innocent trust. But that peace was shattered when the door slammed open, and Celene stormed in, fury radiating off her in waves.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked.

I froze, the brush still in my hand. “I was just—”

“Don’t touch my daughter!” she bellowed, grabbing my arm and shoving me hard. My back hit the wall, and the brush clattered to the floor.

Marie began to cry. “Mama, stop!”

But Celene wasn’t listening. Her voice shook with rage. “You’ve brought nothing but misery into this house,” she spat. “And now Elaine is dead because of you. You’re a witch, Jade, and you always will be!”

The words hit me like a physical blow, but I held my tears back, refusing to let her see them.

“What’s going on here?” My father’s voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway.

Celene rounded on him, her anger undiminished. “Your precious daughter was the only one near Elaine when she was killed! If she isn’t cursed, then explain that!”

His face was tight, unreadable. Guilt? Hesitation? It was impossible to tell.

I tightened my fists. “You won’t have to deal with me for much longer!” I shouted, my voice trembling. “I’m going to become a Watcher after my awakening, and I’ll leave all of you behind!”

The words were met with a stunned silence, and then the sharp crack of a slap split the air.

My cheek burned, and my head jerked to the side, tears spilling freely before I could stop them.

I turned slowly, the sting making me feel small and hollow. The room stayed quiet, the tension thick enough to suffocate.

When I looked up, it was my father’s hand that hung in the air. His face was tight, his eyes glassy with tears. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to.

Celene stood behind him, her arms crossed, her lips curled into a triumphant smirk. Beside her, her twin daughters and Gregor stared, their faces blank with shock. Only Marie made a sound, her quiet sobs breaking the silence.

I turned and fled before anyone could stop me. My footsteps echoed down the corridor as I ran to the attic, my small sanctuary in this wretched house.

Once inside, I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the hard floor. The cold wood pressed against my cheek, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I let the tears fall freely.

I touched the silver ring on my finger. It glinted faintly in the pale moonlight streaming through the small attic window. Its cold comfort reminded me of the beast within me—the monster waiting to surface.

And what was worse? The monster outside my room wasn’t much different.