“Run.” It was the only word she uttered – whispered even.
The group of boys surrounding her sniggered. “Run? It’s you who should be doing the running, bitch,” the biggest of the group growled menacingly.
“Yeah, Ansel’s right,” piped up another.
The young woman glared at them, green eyes blazing. These boys had no idea what she was capable of and she would much rather not have to show them. It was tiring having to use her powers, more so when she had to use them in self-defence. “Run.”
The biggest one stepped towards her, fists clenched. “You’re in for it now, bitch.”
A muffelled cry drew her attention, and she watched as one of the boys was suddenly yanked back. That wasn’t her doing. The other five craned their necks to catch a glimpse of what was happening to their companion. Gasps of shock escaped their lips as they watched him being sliced open by something unseen.
“It’s her,” shouted one.
“She’s doing her fucking witch magic on him! Get her!” yelled another. They turned on her.
“It’s not me,” she whispered, “run. Please. Run!” Fists pummelled into her, turning into heavy boots as she crumpled in a heap.
She finally awoke to senses assaulted by the stench of death. Every part of her body was crying out in agony. She had no sense of how long she had been lying in this murky alleyway. She should have left town weeks ago. She’d know it would eventually come to this. Somehow it always did. No matter how much she tried, she was eventually hated. It always started with excited yells. “Sarah, come help us with our problems!”
And then, when things didn’t go exactly as people thought they ought to, it turned into shrieks.
“Burn the witch!”
The ache and stench surrounding her broke her reverie. She had t leave now. Gathering herself, she ran.
To be continued…