Witch in Hiding (#1 in the Witches Trilogy) (EDITING)

Thirty-Four: The Father

Lights. Music. Punching bag—my birthday present. I'm aiming for black belt by next year.

I wrap my knuckles with a cloth—like the movies—and punch. It still hurts, but that's normal.

"You're overreacting!"

"You're underreacting!" Dad exclaims. "Vic, come on. She—"

"Didn't know what she was doing," Mom snaps. "She's eight, she was scared..."

"Most eight year olds don't kill when they're scared..."

Punch, punch. The bag barely swings. Punch, harder.

"You don't know she did it."

"A healthy twelve-foot anaconda drowned itself, that's not a coincidence. We underestimated her, Vic. This is insane. I've never seen anything like it, and I've seen... pretty much everything. I don't know what this means..."

"What are you saying?" Mom's voice falls sharply on beat with the music. Brittle, though.

"It's not a good idea for me to stay... around her. My magic is too volatile, it'll provoke hers, give it a few years, maybe Vera too..."

"You're not serious."

"I'm dangerous—you know that. It's not going to get better—"

"You could try and help her."

He could. Punch, punch... who?

"And if I can't? She kills the next person who sneaks up and says 'boo'?"

"Hans." Mom's voice lowers. I turn down the music. The song's changed, it's faster now. I swing faster.

"I'm serious, Vic. Kids can't control magic properly—that's normal—but this is different. I don't know how to control this and I don't know if it can be controlled, especially by someone so young... and this magic, you've seen the aftereffects—it's going to cripple her. The safest thing to do is cuff it. Repress it, until she's older."

"Your daughter."

"I can do it, but I'll have to leave, in case I flare it up again. Being around me does that, you know that—"

"You son of a bitch. You can't just run away from this. Vinni—she just recovered—this fixes nothing."

"It's the best thing I can do."

Silence.

"Then take the snake, too. Vera won't remember, but if you're going to repress her magic take the snake."

"Thirteen," Dad says, "that's a safe age to start teaching her."

"I hate you," Mom says, so softly I can barely make it out. "For making me do this."

"You knew this might happen when you married me."

My fist smashes into the canvas as my door swings open and Dad's there. "You're awake," he says. "Sorry, sweetheart." He hugs me. And then—

He's gone.