Abigail

My mother had red hair. That’s what caught my father’s attention, she told me once when I was very young. For him, it was love at first sight. She knew she loved him when he nursed her back to health after she’d fallen ill for a week.

My mother only spoke of my father’s kindness and love in those rare moments she brought him up. With so few words, she made me believe he would come back for us. She made me believe he would rescue us from my step father and bring us back to his large house where we would never run out of food.

But at 13 years old, I’ve figured out the truth. My father never loved my mother. Or me.

You don’t abandon the people you love.

Quinn

For the first time in days, there were two people waiting for me by the lamppost before school. I recognized Elaina, and was shocked - shocked and pissed - to see Kylee there, too. I froze on my front porch, observing the two of them with my arms crossed. They were clearly arguing about something.

They froze when they noticed me on the step. Kylee shot Elaina a dirty look before turning on her heel and marching in the direction of the school by herself.

“Yeah, keep on walking asshole,” I yelled after her. She threw a middle finger in the air, not even turning around to ensure I saw it.

I moved to Elaina, who offered me a small smile.

“What was she doing here?” I spat, not smiling back.

“I was waiting for you when she walked by,” Elaina said simply, “I tried to convince her to apologize.”

I huffed in frustration, “She’s going to have to do more than apologize.”

Elaina and I made our way to school. I could sense Elaina’s continuous glances in my direction - probably trying to gauge how far my forgiveness of her went.

“It was all true,” I told her, trying to break the ice, “The prince… the spell… only there’s more. So much more.”

The words felt strange on my lips. It was the first time I’d admitted it. Even to myself.

Elaina’s eyes widened. I could tell she was about to hound me with questions by the way her mouth opened and closed. But she contained herself, and instead asked -

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I felt a pang of appreciation towards her. A week ago, she would have pressured me for any and all information.

I shrugged my shoulders, “There’s a prophecy. It predicted everything that happened, according to Atlas. The prophecy knew things about me… things I haven’t told anyone.”

“Wow,” Elaina breathed. She kept quiet after that, leaving me space to say more.

“It also predicted…” I paused, realizing this was the first time I was saying it outloud, “that Atlas and I were going to… fall in love.”

I watched Elaina cover her mouth with her hand out of the corner of my eye. This was the kind of romance shit she loved. But her next words surprised me.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked over at her in confusion, slowing my pace. We were almost at the school.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment, and then, “That’s a lot of pressure. And it’s not fair. I don’t think he should have told you that.”

I paused thoughtfully and then nodded my head in agreement. We were almost at the school. Swarms of kids were entering through the large double doors at the front.

“The worst part is,” I began, stopping, “that I think I like him. We hung out yesterday. And… and Sunday… and Friday. I wanted so badly to hate him. I do hate him but… I also… I don’t know”

We stood next to each other, facing the school together - wondering what the day would bring. Elaina grabbed my hand, finally, and gave it a squeeze. I squeezed back.

A black car rolled up to the school, gaining attention from onlookers. I knew who was going to come out of it before I saw him. Atlas, in all his cool and swagger and confidence, stepped out of the car and slung his backpack over one shoulder. He looked sleek and put-together in his navy blue bomber jacket and deep green jeans.

I watched him shake his dark hair out of his face.

“Not the type you usually go for,” Elaina whispered, smirking.

“First time for everything, I guess,” I muttered.

Hand in hand, Elaina and I walked into the school. With Elaina by my side, I ignored the looks and whispers of spellbreaker from the other students. Still, we felt incomplete without Kylee there as well. I tried to push that thought out of my mind. At least I wasn’t friendless anymore.

In History, Kylee sat in the front, far away from her usual seat. Elaina and I took our seats in the back, directly behind Atlas. He threw me a smile and I felt my heartbeat speed up. I ignored the feeling, giving him a cool half-grin.

School passed in a blur. Atlas sat next to or near me in every class, occasionally leaning over to point out something funny.

I made it to my last period gym class for the first time in a week. My teacher gave me a look of disapproval as I emerged from the locker room.

“What did you do to piss off Mrs. Jefferson?” Atlas asked, coming up from behind me.

“Skipped gym every day for a week,” I shrugged, unbothered.

“So… was it also prophesied that you would be in every one of my classes?”

Atlas laughed, “No - that was my mom’s doing. She can be very… influential when she wants to be.”

“I didn’t realize the school secretaries could be bribed,” I said. He just laughed, silently telling me that bribery was exactly how he ended up in all of my classes.

Atlas, as it turns out, was incredibly athletic. He offered to be my partner for the 2 on 2 volleyball match. I stood back while he hit every ball that went over the net, while still somehow managing to carry on a conversation with me.

“We did have a game like this,” he told me, “Before the stone-age. Although it wasn’t called volleyball. And we played with an inflated cow’s bladder - not a ball.”

I grimace at the mental image. We’d taken to calling the time he was under the spell the Stone Age.

“You don’t seem that… bothered,” I noted when he returned, breathing heavily, from spiking the ball, “to have missed all that time.”

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He shrugged, running a hand through his thick black hair.

“I don’t feel like I missed anything. I could see everything - hear everything around me. Nobody died. Everything is just how it was before, but more modern. All of the changes - it was easy for me to accept them because I watched the world slowly evolve over time,” he said, looking down at me. “Or the small part of the world I was granted.”

“I understand,” I said. I glanced at our rivals on the other side of the net, who seemed to be in some sort of debate over who should serve next.

“There are a lot of things I missed,” he told me, “Food for one - taste. And smell.”

He took a step closer to me. I observed his face curiously. His eyes were a bit glazed over, as though he were lost in his own memories. I wondered if he even remembered where we were. Gently, he grabbed a lock of my hair and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

“And touch,” he said, meeting my eyes intently.

He fixed the hair behind my ear. I jumped when I saw the ball flying full force towards the back of his head. My face alerted him and he quickly spun around, smacking the ball over the net before it made contact.

“That was a dirty play,” he growled. He stalked to the net and waited for the next move.

****

“What’s your father like?”

Our conversation continued after school, and Atlas had just waved the car off that usually brought him home. I started in the direction of my house and Atlas just continued along next to me.

“Er… I’ll take the shot,” I muttered.

“That bad, huh?” Atlas asked.

I nodded, “What about yours?”

“My father is dead. He died before the stone age. The man that lives at my house… well I guess you could call him my step father. My mom remarried during the stone age. I don’t know him well.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be - he died when I was a baby. I don’t remember him at all.”

I sighed, debating whether or not I should offer any personal information. It only seemed fair.

“My mom left when I was ten,” I said, “She was always a free-spirit. Kind of a hippie I guess. She ran off to find herself and never looked back.”

“You truly don’t know where she is?” he asked as we arrived at the short walkway leading up to my house.

I shook my head, “I got a postcard with some mountains on it for my 11th birthday. She signed love mom but nothing else. That was the last we heard from her.”

“That’s terrible,” Atlas breathed, meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine now,” I told him, “But my dad… he might as well have left right along with her. I don’t remember the last time we’ve said a word to each other. And we live in the same house.”

“He’s hurting.”

“Yeah but… I mean he acts like we all died. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Atlas looked up at my small house. There were no cars in the driveway because we didn’t own any cars.

“Where is he now?” Atlas asked.

“Probably at the bar,” I shrugged.

“I see.”

I looked over my shoulder, unsure what to say next. Part of me wanted to invite him inside, for no other reason than to keep hanging out with him. I knew my dad wouldn’t be home for hours - wouldn’t even care if he did come home. But I didn’t know what inviting him inside meant. He’d told me he had no expectations, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong interpretation.

“I’ll um… see you in school tomorrow,” I told him softly.

He nodded, “Of course.”

I couldn’t help but notice the slight disappointment on his face. I wondered if he’d been having a similar internal debate. To stay or to go. I looked into his eyes, wanting so badly to read his thoughts.

We’d been very vulnerable with each other today, and it had a lasting effect. I felt almost naked in front of him. Perhaps I shared too much. But he didn’t seem bothered by the new information. He listened when I spoke and seemed to internalize my every word.

I was lost in his gaze, and he in mine. Slowly, his hand began to raise towards my cheek. It came so close that I thought he was going to rest his hand on my face. I almost welcomed the warmth. I wanted to lean into it, inhale the smell of his skin.

But instead I took a step back, looking down at my feet and then directly above him.

“Bye,” I said, turning on my heel.

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him watching me again as I walked up to my front door, similarly to when he first found me that night outside of Jamie’s.

Everything about Atlas felt good. I was comfortable around him. I felt joy when I talked to him. But I couldn’t shake the thought of the prophecy - it had predicted this might happen. Love. I grimaced at the thought as I unlocked my front door. I didn’t want to be in love - not with him. Anything we might feel for each other… it must all be fake. Manipulated by some forces 300 years ago - and now we were just feeling the side effects. Was the attraction placebo? Or was it contrived? Either way, it wasn’t authentic love. It never could be.

These thoughts rushed through my mind as I entered my house and

closed the door behind me. I was so absorbed in my musing that I didn’t at first notice the unfamiliar figure sitting in my favorite armchair. His movement, rising from the chair slowly, caught my attention.

I’d never seen this man before, but the very look of him made my stomach lurch. He had darkness in his eyes as he smiled at me. It wasn’t a kind smile. It was a selfish smile - he was happy for whatever he was about to take from me.

“Hello, princess,” he said, lunging for me.

I let out a blood curdling scream for just a second, and then

his hand was pressed over my mouth. His other arm wrapped around my waste, pinning my arms down. I tried unsuccessfully to escape from his grasp. I bit down hard on his finger and he yelled, snatching it away from my lips.

I took the opportunity to scream again, but he wrapped my face in the crook of his elbow next. Atlas would be too far away by now to hear anything. The beast - my father was god knows where. Bile rose in my throat as I realized I was utterly alone in this situation.

“Shut up,” he growled in my ear.

“I told you to keep her quiet,” a female voice said from the kitchen. A woman emerged, wrinkled and weathered. Her hair was long and black, slitted eyes lay too close together on her pointed face.

“She’s feisty,” the man said, pressing harder on my mouth.

“Don’t worry, girl,” the woman said in a high pitched, too sweet tone, “We’ll be fast.”

My eyes fell to the woman’s hand, and horror flooded me when I realized she was holding a serrated kitchen knife. I only struggled harder against the man.

“Hold her still,” the woman instructed. The man squeezed my body so tightly that I couldn’t take a breath. Tears pooled in my eyes and fell freely down my face.

The woman gave me another smile, and then grabbed my left arm. She held it to the lamplight, examining it. I tried to pull it away, but she dug her nails into my skin.

“Enough!” she growled at me.

And then, she took the knife and plunged it into my skin. She dragged it from my wrist halfway up my forearm. I screamed into the man’s elbow, the pain more intense than anything I’d ever felt in my life.

Blood was gushing down my arm, staining the beige carpet when the woman finally took the knife away. So much blood. Then, the woman brought my forearm up to her lips-

And started drinking my blood.

I felt the suction of her lips, watched her cheeks stain crimson red. This was something out of a nightmare. I stopped struggling, too shocked to move.

The woman’s lips remained on my arm for no more than thirty seconds. But the pain - the wound combined with the suction - made me light headed. I was dizzy when the woman finally pulled away. The front of her shirt was stained with my blood. It coated her teeth and lips. She didn’t even look me in the eyes. She looked above me - to the man holding me still.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, dropping the knife on my floor.

The man let me go and I crashed to the floor, unable to support myself. I watched their feet as they ran past me and out the door.

As soon as they were gone, I took a sharp, deep breath and then let out a sob. My face was flat against the carpet, but I couldn’t sit up - couldn’t find the energy to. I took long, jagged breaths mixed with sobs, my right hand wrapping tightly around my left arm. The pain was growing worse. It traveled further and further up my arm. But a tingling numbness was reaching my finger tips.

I knew I needed help. I was losing too much blood, but I was too weak to move. I let go of the wound and reached into my pocket with my right hand. I unlocked my phone, leaving bloody fingerprints on the screen. My hand was shaking as I pulled up my most recent text - Elaina. She’d sent me a message about hanging out later in the week. I clicked the call button and held the phone to my ear, praying I wouldn’t pass out before she answered.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully on the second ring.

“Elaina,” I gasped, my voice rough and panicked, “Elaina I need help. I was attacked! I-I-”

I’d gotten the words out, but I couldn’t continue. I couldn’t even hear if she was responding. The darkness found me quickly, enveloped me in its warm embrace, and promised to take away the pain.