Sorcery (Louis Tomlinson)

i. Childhood

Mira

I never understood many things in the world.

I never understood why my mother had to be the chosen victim of a drunk driver's car crash, when my father claimed she had done everything in her power to be the best mother and wife she could be. She didn't deserve that.

I never understood why my heart quite frankly sucked at being a heart. My father often made himself depressed over this as well, even though I would always tell him it wasn't his fault. People were born with problems sometimes, I just so happened to be one of them.

I never understood why my dad and I never visited our family for the holidays. To prove my point, our Thanksgiving last year consisted of him and me ordering pizza and eating it forty-five minutes later in front of our TV. Every time I would ask him about it, he would claim that that side of the family wasn't in the best of circumstances, and we weren't to associate with them.

I never understood many things in my life, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy it. Correction: I did enjoy life most of the time, but not now.

Not when my dad had packed me up and announced that we were driving out to the middle of nowhere in Washington so I could quote: "relax and allow my heart the chance to heal and keep my heart problems from getting much worse than they already had."

Basically, I had to learn to relax, or big problems were in for me and my enlarged heart.

My dad had been my personal caretaker ever since I could remember, and his duties stretched from going to the store to buy groceries to making sure I took my pills to going to work at the hospital. He only ever started working there once I had reached an age where I could call 911 should I ever need to.

Needless to say, I was about to call 911 to complain that I was dying of boredom just sitting in the front seat of Dad's old truck. A girl could only look at her photography scrapbook for so long without getting bored out of her mind.

"Do we have to go?" I asked Dad for probably the thirtieth time since getting in the car.

Mark Lane, an aging forty-seven year old man with flecks of grey in his hair and worry wrinkles from years of raising me alone, nods.

"Yes, Mira, we have to go. You know I prioritize your health over everything." He sighed, and I leaned back against my seat.

"I feel fine. My health is fine. We don't need to go to Washington just because of my heart." I knew we secretly didn't have enough money to move around whenever I needed to 'relax', we hardly had enough money to pay for my medication and the bills. However, Dad had claimed we were staying at a family friend's cabin by a forest, 'an all expenses paid relaxation trip' as he called it. I hadn't questioned him about it.

I stared out the window as the trees passed by, miles and miles going by in a few minutes. Miles and miles away from my old home. We were already in California, almost at our final destination.

I tried looking at the bright side of things, my fingers fiddling with the heart locket around my neck. Dad had given it to me when I was little, telling me a special story about it.

He claimed the locket represented his and Mom's love for me, the glowing half of the heart representing her love for the both of us despite her being gone. He told me the light would never go out so long as he lived, and the light meant someone always loved me.

I had never taken it off.

My fingers traced over the intricate metalwork as I bit my lip. Maybe this was a chance to start over? Maybe this was a fresh start, the chance to finally take control of my life and grow up.