The Witches (Book #1)

𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶, 𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔖𝔞𝔡

"Get in here," Yoomi's words are barbed.

I read the grandfather clock in the foyer before I enter the living room. It's 9:27. I know I missed her dinner, but I can barely look at her right now without wanting to cry and scream all at once.

"Apologize and I'll consider not grounding you."

I should just do it and walk away. "No." You apologize. You don't care about my father . . . about our family.

She puts her glass of wine down and stands. "You're not sorry at all, are you?"

"Sooji, leave her," Joohyuk says, standing next to a cluster of empty wine bottles.

"Maybe you should be worrying about visiting my dad instead of running around town shopping all the time and getting drunk."

Her eyes harden. I know that look. We've hit the point of no return. "You seem awfully social yourself for someone who says she only wants to be by her father's side."

"You have no idea what I've been doing."

"Oh? Did I upset you, mon chou?" Yoomi taunts, using the pet name Appa called me when I was a little girl. It means "my little cream puff."

My fingers curl into my palms. "Fuck you."

Yoomi's hand whips across my check so hard and so fast that everything goes black for a second. I raise my chin and stare at her. I don't massage my face, even though it hurts like hell. I want to tell her I found the insurance summary and call her every name I can think of, but before I can open my mouth her wineglass shatters on the floor.

Yoomi jolts.

"You're grounded." She shifts her attention to the broken glass.

Joohyuk, who I'm pretty sure was the cause of it, gently touches my arm. "Do not give her the satisfaction of seeing you upset."

I nod and run to my room with Joohyuk by my side. My whole body trembles. I slam my door and slide the lock into place. I stand there fuming. Joohyuk lifts my chin. He brushes a tear away with his cold thumb.

"I'm angry, not sad," I say with a voice that's sad and not angry.

"I need no explanation."

I'm grateful for that. I don't want to talk about how I feel. What I want is my dad back.

"I will bring you ice." He blinks out of the room.

"'Don't cry," I say to myself, and dab my eyes with the sleeves of my black hoodie. I take a few deep breaths, and Joohyuk blinks in with a small ice pack.

I take it from him. "Thanks."

He nods. "May I bring you some tea?"

The formality of his question catches me by surprise. "Actually, yeah. I'd really like some tea. Will you have some with me?"

"Certainly."

He blinks out, and I take of my boots. I pace with my ice pack, trying to clear Yoomi from my thoughts and decide what to do next. What does it mean that Changbin's face blurred with mine? I don't like the idea that I'm connected to him. And if I am, does it mean he's trapped here like Joohyuk . . . or worse, he's trapped inside of me?

Joohyuk blinks in with a large silver tray full of tea. A wicker basket hangs from his arm, and a fluffy rug is over his shoulder. For the first time ever, he looks uncertain. "Will you hold this tray a moment, Sooji?" I swear he'd be blushing if he had blood.

I pull the ice pack off my cheek and take the tray. "What is all this?"

He unfolds the fluffy rug and spreads it out on my floor. "A room picnic."