Witches Revolt

Chapter Two: Fish Taco?

The door looked larger than I remembered, the wood painted black with the gold lion knob staring down at me. I went to raise my hand to knock, but recalled I am no stranger. The keys felt foreign in my hand after such a short time, a part of me didn't want to walk in, I wasn't ready. I pushed myself, reminding myself I'm not the only one who's suffering, and surely do not feel the most pain after all of this.

Using my keys, I walked in. The house was quiet and smelt of liquor and meditation herbs; the pine family definitely never held a proper way to grieve, especially when it doesn't involve alcohol and drugs. I stood in the entry way, expecting a hyper teenager to attack me with a hug and offer me tea. I never understood why Maxine loved making tea, later I realize it was her way of comfort and support- a drink to calm the nerves.

I walked through the empty sitting room, making my way down the narrow hall past Aunt May's study, the doors were closed but I saw her shadow moving inside. She spent most of her time in there, burrowing herself in old family books, pictures of when we were young, and listening to music to drown out the sorrow and anger.

I continued on down the hall, coming upon the back door leading to the backyard and greenhouse. Maxine would spend her spring and summers in the greenhouse, tending to the plants, talking to them while spraying water upon flowers. She would sketch each plant as if they were models, I recalled her saying the plants has the same amount of emotions as humans. 'It's in their growth. If a plant doesn't blossom or grow tall like the others, than it's afraid and think the environment is too dangerous. If a flower grows spikes then it's feeling it should protect themselves. You can tell when a flower is happy, they bloom, their roots are green and they last long.'

I circled my way around to the kitchen, I can see her making tea and cooking breakfast. Every weekend she would get up before anyone else and cook as if it were her job. She would dance to music and manage to smile bright while we mean mug her fur being so happy in the morning.

I finally made my way upstairs, Maxine's bedroom was closed, just the way she left it before everything happened. I ignored the urge to walk in, and stepped in the threshold of Athena's messy room. She laid in bed, buried under the thick covers, smelling of meditation herbs and booze. I knocked on the door, catching her attention through the small hole she made. "Have you eaten?"

The process of losing two people she loved left Athena depressed, the drugs and alcohol only makes it worse. She didn't say anything, only closed that hole that connects her to the world. I sighed heavily before continuing my journey upstairs to the attic. It was cold, brittle, my bed was made up just like the way I left it, and the mirror in the corner of the room was still covered. No longer afraid, I took the cover off and take notice of my reflection. I looked exhausted, although I gained a full six hours of sleep.

Tearing my gaze from my reflection, I went downstairs to the kitchen, made a sandwich, and went back upstairs into Athena's room. I snatched the covers from her body, causing her to shiver and give me an evil glare that would of made me back down; but I didn't have the time to be coy. "Starving yourself won't bring them both back, nor sulking in your own tears." I shoved the saucer in her face, making her grab it from me. "Eat, take a shower, and meet me downstairs for a proper meal. If you're not down there in thirty minutes, I'm dragging you out." Just like that, I stormed out to the next person that needed tough love.

I knocked twice on the study door before opening it to see Aunt May buried in her journal, writing down rapidly, too focused on her words to even notice I've entered. "Aunt May." I spoke in a softer tone. "Come on, come to the kitchen to get something to eat."

She shook her head and continued. "I'm not hungry."

I sighed heavily, placed my hands out in front of me and placed my palms together as if I were closing a book. Her journal snapped closed, almost catching her fingers along the process. "Taking an hour away from writing won't hurt." I stated. "Thirty minutes, meet me in the kitchen." I ordered before walking out.