Not That Kind Of Witch • Kai Parker #1

only human

THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY UNDER GOING A REWRITE AND UPLOAD TO AO3. EXPECT CHAPTER UPDATED AND IMPROVEMENTS. The story is also going to be more explicit and different ending

The year was 1994, the weather was slightly overcast, the roads were derelict and this particular road was straight as far as the eye could see; tarmac for miles on end, no curves in sight. Perfect for revving the speedometer all the way past 100 mph on this balmy Tuesday evening.

Re-adjusting his grip on the steering wheel's grooves, Kai Parker lounged back and floored the gas pedal. Watching the hand glide it's way up through the intervals, the red Chevrolet Camaro purred like a kitten up into the high 90s.

It was moments like these, that he could almost forget... almost forget the injustice done to him by his family, forget the never-ending cycle of Tuesday-Fucking-May-10th-1994 and almost forget that this wasn't his paradise, it wasn't some perfect getaway from the simplicities of the mundane world.

This was his prison. And when this car collided with the crumpled pile of cars that had previously failed to end his life, he would awaken, perfectly fine, unharmed and not a single hair out of place. And for that he was glad, because surely from the vast amount of colorful ways Kai had tried to off himself, he wouldn't have been so easy on the eyes any more.

The Gemini coven had thought of everything upon locking their own flesh and blood in his prison.

For someone who had never been that adept at dealing with emotions before spending 18 years living through the equivalent of emotional castration, the searing flash of pain that accompanied his motor collisions were warmly welcomed. Pain was a feeling, it did its job getting the blood pumping and kicking in the good old fight or flight system into gear.

Not that there was much time to relish in that small relief of feeling something, anything. It sounded unfathomable, but he thought he'd even began to forget what hate feels like. Sure, he went through the motions, knew that if he saw his father it wouldn't be long until his head was swiftly removed but that pure, fresh stab of hate was foreign to him; and that scared him most of all.

It was seconds, really, before the wall of fire engulfed him from the bowels of the masjestic car's engine. It was enough however, enough to remind him that he was human. He did breathe and despite the 6759 days he'd spent locked in his twisted father's idea of hell, he still enjoyed the finer things in life.

For example... when the Camaro slammed into the shameful, distasteful pile of crumpled and blown out cars and the fire enveloped him with a warming embrace, singeing the hairs off of his body and burning his clothes to a crisp, as well as the leather beneath him, glass blew back into his face nicking his exposed flesh. Kai let the orange wave of heat roll over him with a smile on his face.