1. Youre not magical, Yu-jin!

"You are cordially invitedto the Lockwood Academy for witches and Nightcrawlers1. Conditions may apply."

Shit.

I did it. I fucking did it!

The silk-coated paper feels even more expensive in my sweaty hands, but I don't care. I've been dreaming about getting into Lockwood since I was a little kid, and…they finally want me.

Theywant me.

I hug the letter close to my heart and close my eyes. I can already see myself in the endless green fields on the campus, mixing in with other witches and paranormals, learning magic, exploring my power.

"Excuse me." Someone coughs and brings me out of my self-induced stupor. "Did you finally restock the joint pain potions?"

I open my eyes and look at the weathered old Mrs. Solis. She's been a faithful patron of the Magickal Apothecary as far back as I can remember.

"We did, Mrs. Solis," I reply and set down the letter before turning to find the glass vials with the golden liquid.

"What is this? You got accepted into Lockwood?"

I smile and offer her the potion she requested.

"I just got the letter. It's exciting, isn't it?"

Mrs. Solis grins.

"Your mom talked about sending you there before you were even born. Congratulations, young man."

She sets down the rest of her items, and I start ringing them up.

"So? What is it?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"Your power."

I catch my breath before I can answer and chew the inside of my cheeks.

That's the first problem with my acceptance letter.

"I haven't…I haven't manifested yet. My offer is reliant on me manifesting my power during their ignition ceremony."

I leave out the fact that I've already had one ignition ceremony in the past, to disappointing results. Mrs. Solis doesn't need to know what a failure I am.

Kevin tried to ignite my witch power, but it never manifested. I'm hoping Lockwood, with their academic and ancient knowledge, will be more successful.

"Well, good luck, young man. I hope your father is excited for you. Lockwood is a very prestigious school."

And there's the second problem with my acceptance letter.

"Stepfather," I correct, handing her a little brown bag with all her stuff. "He's not my father."

Mrs. Solis pats my hand as she takes the bag and tuts.

"That man has looked after you all your life. He's your father, sweetheart."

Once again, I chew the insides of my cheeks and try to keep my shaking under control.

She doesn't know, Yu-jin. She doesn't know.

No one knows the truth. It's how he prefers it. It's how they all prefer it, and I have no choice but to abide.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Solis." I make it clear the conversation is over by turning my back to her. I pretend I'm counting something when, in truth, I'm fighting back tears.

He won't let me go. I know he won't. It doesn't mean I'm not going to try, but I already know it will be a fruitless, if not painful, effort.

Unless…

I reach for the drawer under the counter and take out the old Nokia cell phone hiding inside. It once belonged to my mom. I found it in a box when cleaning the storeroom upstairs. Thankfully, it still works. At least for what I need it for. And the only thing I need it for is to contact my best friend.

Well, my only friend, really.

Me:

Tell me it's arrived. Please tell me it's arrived.

I check my surroundings and bite my thumbnail while waiting for a reply. The last thing I need is for Kevin, Michelle, or Mason to walk in and find the phone.

It's my only contact with the outside world, my only escape from this cruel life I'm living.

Jace:

No. Sorry, honey.

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut and run my hand over my face.

Me:

Wasn't it supposed to be here by now? It's been three weeks.

Jace:

I know. Let me check the mailroom again. If it's still not here, I'll call the company and try to sort out a replacement.

I try not to be disappointed. I try not to let it get to me, but I can't help it. That box is my only hope. My last hope.

Turns out, I don't even have the time to worry about that because my chest clenches and my lungs cease working.

Shit.

I look at the clock as I grab my neck and attempt to breathe life back into my body.

That fucker. I'm only one minute late. But even that is reason for punishment from my cruel stepfather.

The pain subsides, though not completely, and I open the register. I empty the money into the red safe box before placing it in my backpack and hide the letter in the drawer before I lock up and make my way home.

Home. Pfft. What a joke of a word. That place has never been my home.

"You're late," Michelle warns me before I've even opened the door.

"I'm sorry. I had an indecisive customer."

Michelle isn't listening as she turns me around and digs into my backpack for the safe box.

"Go upstairs. He's waiting for you."

My stomach sinks as it always does.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

I take my shoes off and head up the stairs. I'm pretty sure by the time I reach the bedroom door, my mouth is bleeding from all the chewing. But the copper taste doesn't bother me anymore. Yet another thing I've gotten used to in my life.

I knock on the door and wait, balancing from one foot to the other twice before he responds.

"Enter."

I reach for the doorknob with a shaky hand. I make a fist to stop it before I open the door.

The sight on the other side makes me throw up in my mouth. Kevin is there, sitting in bed naked with a dour expression.

"You're late," he says and palms his already erect dick.

"I'm sorr?—"

"Save your excuses for someone who cares." He glances down at his crotch and grimaces. "What are you waiting for?"

I set the backpack down by the door and swallow the knot in my throat as I close the distance between my stepfather and me.

I don't dare look him in the eye. I focus on a spot at the edge of the bed and use it to navigate to him.

"Today, dickhead." His shout makes me jump, and he laughs.

My fear has always amused him. Bastard.

I lie at the end of the bed, and before I even settle, he shoves his cock in my mouth. I close my eyes and burry the pain and humiliation so I can do my job. Like I always do. Like I've been doing since my mom died five years ago.

I'd love to say I've become desensitized, numb, or indifferent, but no, it hurts every day, every hour, every time.

He pushes me down on him without regard for choking or hurting me. All he ever cares about is his release. His release and his magic.

While he forces me to suck him off, he grabs the book beside him and the knife he was using as a bookmark and flips through the pages before stopping on one.

I don't even notice when he grabs my palm and slices. I'm too distracted by the tears forming in my eyes. How is this my life? How have I ended up like this?

Kevin starts chanting something and bucks his hips, shoving his dick even deeper, making my tears drop onto his crotch. He pauses and puts his lips around my gushing wound, and I feel its sting heat my entire arm.

Time warps as usual, and the minutes of abuse turn to seconds, and before I know it, he's shooting his load all over my face and chanting some more bullshit. It's all giving me a headache. I just want to sleep. I want to go to my room, lie in my bed, and never wake up.

"Get out, you good-for-nothing piece of shit." He kicks me off his bed and rubs as much of my blood from his chin as possible, guiding it onto his tongue like a kid trying to get every bit of melted chocolate from his face.

"Kevin, I…um…" I know it's probably a mistake, but I've got to try.

"What?" he grumbles, barely looking at me, too focused on the blood.

"I…I got accepted into Lockwood, and I was wondering?—"

"Lockwood?" He looks up at me, and his eyebrows knot over the bridge of his nose. "You? Got accepted to Lockwood? Ha! How? You're a useless piece of crap. You're not magical."

As if it's proof, he points to his blood-stained fingers.

He may think I'm not magical, but that doesn't stop him from drinking my blood, trying to steal the magic I don't have.

"Well, they do an ignition, and if I pass?—"

"Your ignition failed, you little shit."

"But if you let me try one more?—"

"No. Get out. Get out of my face. Worthless piece of crap."

Somehow, his words hurt more than his load still covering my face, and I turn around, pick up my backpack, collect whatever dignity I have off the floor, and run out of the room.

I make an attempt to pull down the attic ladder, but Mason opens his door, just as naked as his father, and leans against the frame with a nasty grin plastered across his face.

"Hey, little bro. Where do you think you're going?"

"Fuck off, Mason!" I shout.

My stepbrother's expression changes. His eyes narrow, and he all but hisses at me.

"Come here now!"

The compulsion in my blood, in my very soul, tightens its hold on me, and even though I want to escape, to climb the stairs to my room and die, I follow my feet into Mason's bedroom and suffer the same fate at his hands as I did in his father's. He forces himself on me, cuts my other palm, drinks my blood, and adds his load to my face and T-shirt before shoving me out of his room and leaving me crying in the middle of the floor.

"You should have been on time." Michelle appears from the bathroom door, rubbing cream all over her face, acting like this is normal. I guess to the Taylors, this is normal. "If you'd been on time, they wouldn't have been so pissed."

I glare at her. I hate her. I hate them all. I hate everything they're doing to me and everything they did to my mom. Everything we've endured under their rule.

Fuck you, Michelle!

That's what I want to say. That's what jitters behind my teeth, but I don't let it out. There's no point. I will only pay more if I do.

Instead of acknowledging her further, I pull down the ladder and escape into the attic. My room. The first stop is the bathroom. I jump into the cold shower—it's always cold showers for me—and rub the sin off my face and body. If only I could do the same with my soul.

So much for having a good day. So much for being accepted into Lockwood. I'm trapped. I'm trapped forever and ever until the day I die, just like my mother. And nothing and no one can save me.

I climb into bed just as vulnerable as I am naked and hug the spider plushie under the covers. It's the only thing I have of hers that's not been tainted by the Taylors. The only thing that reminds me of her and not of the bad times.

"Oh, Goemi. Why is this our life?"

Naturally, my spider plushie doesn't answer, not that I expect it to. But it's fine. I'm used to talking to myself. It's not like I've had anyone else to talk to all these years.

No one but Jace. And even with him, I only talk aloud the few times he drops by the store and we mumble with our backs turned on each other like we're spies in fear of getting caught. We rarely get to talk on the phone either. If they ever saw me on the phone, they'd take it and punish me. And maybe punish Jace. So, text messages it is. In secret. Always.

And even that, who knows when they'll discover and yank it from me anyway.

I get up and unearth the cell from the secret pocket I've sewn into the backpack before falling back into bed.

There's one message.

Jace:

Oh my Goddess, Yu-jin. It's here. The kit is here!

1 ?Nightcrawler - In the Cursed Hearts universe all paranormal creatures aside from witches are called Nightcrawlers.