The Lost Witch

chapter five

The sky was still dark when Paige turned the shower on and stepped beneath the water. Water travelled down her back as she washed her hair and tilted her chin towards the flow of water.

It was early, a few hours before school started at the very least. She had woken, much earlier than usual, and she couldn't remain in bed. So she took off, strapped on a pair of shoes, eventually found her way to the paved trail her dad mentioned, which was deserted and only a mile or so away, and she pushed herself much harder than she had for a while. Her lungs still throbbed and her legs felt like noodles, but it felt good to have an aching body.

It kept her mind preoccupied, but now that she had slowed down, she couldn't help but think about all the magic she's used recently. All unintentional. All without meaning to summon her own magic.

The lights exploding at school.

The creepy painting going up in flames.

Even the feeling of magic rearing its ugly head whenever she was near Aaron. Or thinking about him.

Her magic felt off lately. She couldn't explain it, but her connection to her magic felt closer. Stronger. More unstable.

Paige's eyes snapped open as she felt the water pelting down on her shift. It was an odd sensation, a swelling, bubbling sensation raising from the pit of her stomach. As the sensation of magic grew, the more the water surrounding her changed.

The water from the faucet seemed to flow slower, moving in ways that defied gravity. Bubbles of water glided across her skin, water wrapped around her naked body, pressing down on her bare skin until she was coated in a thick coat of armour.

It felt warm and good and she almost wanted to laugh as her body was consumed with magic. It felt so natural to use magic this way, no basic, simple spells. She wanted more. Much more. She knew if she called for it, her magic would answer hungrily and be happy to boil over the walls she's always put around her magic.

The magic came to an abrupt stop when a door slammed somewhere downstairs. Almost with a flick of a switch, the magic ebbed away. No more armour of water. The faucet continued to flow freely and naturally, no longer affected by any magic.

Suddenly no longer feeling the need to wash her worries away, Paige snapped off the flow of water and stepped out of the shower so fast she dribbled water on the white-tiled floor. Wrapping a towel around herself, Paige rushed back into her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans.

Once dressed, she fixed her hair into a slightly messy braid and pulled a cute beanie over her ears that matched the blue jacket she wore. Breezing through her morning routine of moisturizer, foundation, eyeshadow and mascara, Paige grabbed her backpack and headed downstairs, ready to leave through the door at a moment's notice when the time came.

Paige met Shane in the foyer, a rolled-up newspaper in his hands as he nudged the front door closed. He raised an eyebrow at Paige's early appearance. "You're up early," he said, stifling a yawn. "And dressed too?" He eyed her suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Paige faked what she hoped was a wounded expression. "Where's the trust?"

"Outside in the trash. Right alongside the portraits of the two girls."

Paige felt her face twist into a grimace. "You saw that, huh?"

"I don't know what happened or why you set fire to that painting," he said. He looked around the foyer. "But the house doesn't seem damaged. And neither do you. That's all I care about."

Paige hesitated. She knew her dad suspected the worse. That she took a match or something to the painting and watched it burn. He believed she was a troubled teen, and perhaps she was, but she wasn't into purposely burning things. In the end, she decided the truth would be better than whatever thoughts he was currently having.