Sister Witches

Recovery

TW: Mentions of self-harm and self-inflicted wounds.

Angel wakes to the sunshine peeking through the window of their swamp shack. She takes her time waking up, almost expecting Misty to burst through the door and demand she get her lazy butt out of bed. Then reality hits her; her sister isn't here. She's gone and she has been for a few weeks now. Burned alive by religious assholes who think they know everything. She feels a burning rage course through her veins and hears a nearby mason jar burst into small shards.

She gasps and quickly sits up in bed, bringing a hand to her chest where she feels her heart pounding. Get it under control, get it under control! She chants to herself. Her anger and anxiety quickly melts away and is replaced by an all consuming sadness. Sobs wrack through her body and she wishes nothing more for Misty to come and comfort her, or maybe even her mother. But they can't, both are gone and that just causes her cries to grow louder.

After allowing herself to cry until she couldn't anymore she finally pulls herself out of bed and gets dressed. Her movements are slow and lethargic as she pulls on a pair of denim shorts and a brown tank top. She runs a brush through her unruly hair and attempts to braid it. Misty always did this for me. She wills away the tears threatening to spill over and finishes the messy braid, deeming it good enough. Before leaving the small shack she grabs her sunglasses and finally, Misty's favorite shawl. She brings the piece of fabric to her nose and takes a breath. It's earthy, with a hint of wildflowers, lavender to be specific. Even after all this time it still smells like her.

She takes a deep breath once more before stepping out of the shack and making her way to the garden. She grabs the pruning shears, placing them in her back pocket before bending down and grabbing the watering can. She wanders over to the stream of water by their home and proceeds to fill the can. Her movements are robotic and her face is set into a small frown. Her mind is elsewhere so she doesn't hear the footsteps drawing closer to their sanctuary.

With the watering can full, she brings herself back to the garden and wordlessly makes her rounds, pruning any plants that need it and watering before moving onto the next one. She skips over the dead plant that she had revived a few weeks prior. She made a silent vow to no longer use her powers as long as she can help it. After all, it was the performance of magic that caused her sister's death.

Misty watches from the doorway of their shack with a small frown on her lips. She had spent time in the Louisiana mud, allowing her body to fully recover before finally making her way back to their small shack.

She could immediately see the toll her death caused her sister. The shack was untidy, the bed unmade, and the small radio turned off. The Fleetwood Mac and Queen cassettes placed out of sight in Misty's top dresser drawer. She could feel the sorrow pouring out of her sister and it made her want to cry. She never wanted her sister to feel this type of pain again after losing their mother. She continues to watch as her sister finishes taking care of the garden, she can tell her heart isn't in it, and her frown deepens as Angel skips over the dying or already dead plants.

Angel places the watering can down and glances at the shear in her hands. She isn't proud of it, but she had recently taken to externalizing her pain; she knew for sure Misty would throw a fit if she saw Angel's thighs. She sighs and slowly walks over to the hammock placed between two trees. She haphazardly drops herself into it, swinging back and forth as she twirls the shears in her hands. Tears well in her eyes once again and she removes the sunglasses from her face, wiping away the few tears that fell down her cheeks. She rolls up her right pant leg and doesn't even register the wounds already scattering her thigh placed by herself. She brings the shears to her thigh but before she could damage herself once more a strong hand grips her wrist and yanks the shears out of her hand.

"What in the hell do ya think yer doin'!" Misty screams, throwing the shears to the ground. Her eyes are wide and her heart is pounding in disbelief over her sister's actions.

Angel's brain isn't running in real time as she gazes up at her dead sister, her icy blue eyes wide and shiny with tears. At least she thought she was dead, but her grip is strong on her wrist and the hand feels warm against her skin. Her mouth is agape but no words or even sounds slip past her lips.

"Answer me, Angelica Day! What the hell do ya think yer doin, hurtin ya'self like that!" Misty shouts, shaking her sister's wrist in her grip. It seems as if Angel is in a trance as her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Misty can tell her abrupt appearance has left her sister in a state of shock and she sighs as she brings her free hand to brush baby hairs off of Angel's forehead.

"I'm here, Lil' bird. I'm real and I'm so sorry you had to see any of that and be by yerself for God knows how long." She whispers, her accent bleeding through. She grunts as Angel launches herself from the hammock and into Misty's arms. Gut wrenching sobs are tearing through her body as she clings onto her older sister like her life depends on it, because in a way it does.

Misty brushes her fingers through her sister's hair and hauls her into her arms. She notices her tiny body is even thinner than she remembers and she once again is left feeling awful about how her death affected her lil bird. She carries her sister into the shack and places her on their shared bed before carefully unraveling her arms from her and searching through the cupboards. She finds the jar she's looking for and screws the cap off placing it on the bedside table.

"Come on now, off with yer shorts. I need to see the damage." Misty demands softly, although it seems as if Angel didn't hear her through her sniffles or simply didn't wish to comply. She sighs and grips her sister's chin with her thumb and forefinger. "Angel. I need ya to breathe and listen to me, ya understand?" She says, staring into her sister's eyes.

Angel hesitantly nods and slips her shorts down her legs, leaving them around her ankles. Misty can see a collage of cuts all along her sister's upper thighs. All ranging in size and healing stages. Her own green-blue eyes fill with tears as she dips her fingers in the mud jar and covers the injuries in a generous layer of the magical substance. "Any others I need to know about?" Misty asks, her voice thick. Angel shakes her head no and Misty lets out a breath of relief. She's fuming underneath the surface but she guessed that now wasn't the best time for her to scold her little sister.

By the time she's finished Angel's sobs have ceased but silent tears remain trailing down her cheeks. She watches Misty's every move with rapt attention, still in disbelief that her sister is here and alive.

Misty goes to her top drawer and pulls out all the cassettes Angel had packed away and grabs her sister's Queen cassette. Turning it on and hitting play, the beginning of Spread Your Wings plays followed by Freddie Mercury's smooth and strong vocals. Misty brings herself back to the bed and beckons for Angel to make room for her. She moves and Misty flops down onto the bed, facing the ceiling. Angel has pulled and buttoned her shorts and faces her sister. She brings her hand to Misty's face and brushes her fingers along her cheek in a tentative manner, as if Misty could break or disappear if she applied too much pressure.

Upon feeling her sister's soft touch Misty angles her face and kisses her sister's palm before grabbing it and pulling her close to herself. She gently forces her sister's head to her chest in hopes that maybe hearing her heartbeat will soothe her Lil bird's doubts about her being real. She strokes the wavy blonde locks before pulling it out of its messy braid and brushes through her hair lulling her sister into a state of calm. Both continue to lay in bed, listening to Queen and relishing in the others' presence. She can tell her sister is falling asleep so she presses a kiss to the crown of her hair and squeezes tight.

"We're still gonna be talking about this lil missy, and believe me I'm mad about it. But I missed ya and I love ya so much." She whispers, closing her eyes. Before falling into the arms of sleep she hears her sister's whispered reply "I love ya too... so much."