The blinding glare of headlights greets me as I step out of the Door and onto the asphalt road. I step out of the way and allow it to pass, and then cross the street. The car makes a U-Turn at the end of the street as I walk in the direction of home, and comes squealing by — the flashes of cameras illuminating where I had just stepped out of the door from, before squealing away. What the hell is going on?

“Where’s my reward?” I ask the Shard by holding up my arm.

“Where the door was.” Came the reply. I look back to see a handful of bills fluttering in the wind.

I curse the gods, and the Shard out in my head as I run after them. All in all, it took me ten minutes to collect them all. 230 dollars in the form of two 100-dollar bills, one twenty and two fives for some reason. I shove the dirtied bills in my pocket and finally head back home.

It takes me another ten minutes before I enter the door. Clio runs up to greet me as I step into the darkened abode. My father lays across the sofa; emptied plastic bottles of vodka laid out on the coffee table. My mother was in her room, probably also passed out. I close the glass sliding door and sneak into my room to calm Clio down, and open up my window so that Shadow could come in.

It had only been one day since this all began. Somehow, it felt like a lot longer. I take a hot shower while Clio buries herself in the comforter. Black ash and dried blood wash off my body in dirty floes. My knuckles still throb from my first kill, my back still feels the ache of the dagger’s bite, and I still smell the smoke. I can’t believe I did all that. Me. Me, of all people. I squeeze the bridge of my nose, as warm tears begin to pull at the corners of my eye and roll down my cheek.

I finish the shower and cook a microwavable pizza before slipping back into my room. I sit at my desk. It feels like forever since I sat here. I turn on my computer and type in the password. I decide to check my social media first. Perhaps there were other, ‘chosen,’ people like me that I can find. When I log in, I see a thread posted on my city’s Facebook page, ‘Xville FYI.”

“GHOST SIGHTING,” the top caption read over a video of a dash cam with hundreds of reactions at the bottom. The name looked familiar. I scroll past the video to read further. “So today I took an uber job in the neighborhood of Xstreet.” That’s my street, “And while I was taking the guy he got kind of spacey, and when I asked him what was up he vanished. VIDEO PROOF.”

Oh no.

I click the video. It starts when the guy pulls up to my house. God, I look awful. Am I really that fat? Is my hair that thin? At least my teeth look nice. It continues to the point where he pulls away until he asks me if everything was alright.

“Sorry, just lost—” I say before blinking out of existence.

My cheeks burn and I place my forehead against the desk before I scroll through the comment section.

“WOW.”

“Nice effects, idiot.”

“He’s so fucking fat.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Maybe he killed himself because he’s so ugly.”

Hundreds of comments like these line the comment section. All with laughing reactions.

“If you listen he says something about being lost? Maybe he’s a lost spirit?” Surprised reactions line the bottom of this.

“I SAW IT. We went driving by late at night, and he appeared in our headlights! Maybe he was hit by a car there?” A picture of an empty road illuminated by.

Oh, God. Well, gods, I guess. I can’t believe just yesterday I was an atheist. Now I’m a what? Alltheist? What about Scientology? I groan, chase the questions out of my head, and finish up the pizza, brush my teeth, and go to sleep.

I wake before the sun, and, for the first time in years, I feel refreshed. Shadow curled up on the cushion of my chair.

“Can I use the familiar contract on her?”

Yes. Came the reply scrawling across the bracelet that I was just now sliding over my wrist.

I push myself off the couch and grab the wand off the bookshelf.

“I’m sorry, girl, this might hurt.”

“Brrow?” She purrs and rolls over on her stomach.

“I, an initiate of Hecate and of Bastet, and one with the knowledge of Hermes bestowed upon humanity through the tablet of emerald, do beseech you, oh companion of mine, to merge together our souls.”

I tap the tip of the wand and pull out the red strand from my chest, and place it in hers. My eyes, ears, stomach, and lungs begin to burn as the contract completes.

Mister? It hurts.

“By the light of Yahweh...”

I cast lesser healing on the cat until she stops complaining.

Contract complete. The words scrolling across my wrist read. +2 Perceptiveness, +1 Magic, +1 Stamina, Gained Ability Cat’s Eyes.

“What does Cat’s Eyes do?”

Cat’s Eyes, 1/999. Allow for greater visibility in the dark. At higher levels increases the range of your vision.

Should have figured. I stroke the black cat, and throw on some clothes. I had a plan. I had to establish a supply route to my house and whatever stores I would need to frequent in the coming days: the grocery store, the pawn shop, and the sporting goods store. I map out the route on my computer as I finish breakfast. All in all, I would need to clear just over ten miles of roads. That will be my first goal. A supply chain is a must in war, after all. Two hundred and fifty-six doors in total, I would have to close to open up this route. And that was only counting those in the middle of the road. I’ll start with the grocery store since it’s the closest.

With that in mind, I open up my closet and throw the spear in so my parents don’t stumble across it when they enter my room to look for me. I also grab a spare shoe box where I put all the money, save for a single hundred dollar bill that I stuff in my pocket, and all the rings and the locket. I hide it beneath a couple layers of clothes that no longer fit me.

I put the books and scrolls on top of my dresser; grab the kris and my wand, and head out before eight. My father had the day off — it being Christmas Eve and all, so he was busy drinking his vodka in the living room, while my mother got stoned in her own room.

“Where are you going?” My father said as he pushed himself up and swayed on his feet.

“Out.”

“Where?”

“Just out,” I say.

“You were out all day yesterday,” his voice is slurred.

“Yeah, and?”

“And you yelled at your mother yesterday is what.” He punched the table, “You don’t yell at your mother goddamnit.”

“She kept waking me up to do ridiculous things.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuated each sentence with a punch against the table, “You control your fucking temper.” He staggers up to me and points his finger in my face. “Do you fucking understand me?” He snarls.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Good. Fucking ungrateful piece of shit.” He shoves me and then staggers back to the couch and kicks the table as I walk away.

My lips quiver and I feel nauseous as he sits down. I glance at Clio who is shivering in the corner. I can’t take her with me. She’ll die. So I step out the door to begin the second day; the kris tapping against my thigh with a new goal in mind — set up the supply route, and save up enough money to move out of this place, so I never have to go through this again, and so that Clio can have a safer home. One week. Before the new year, I will escape this place.