Boaz left, and the room felt overwhelmingly empty without him. After several minutes, I threw back the covers and stood. My head pounded but hardly enough to keep me in bed. I smoothed my long black nightgown and walked to the dresser to see what Boaz had been looking at.
Several items sprawled across the dark wood surface: a grotesque-looking porcelain doll, a ceramic gargoyle, and a music box that played a song that was neither happy nor pleasant. None of them represented beauty and love. They were all constant reminders of my parents attempt to turn my heart as black as theirs.
I scanned the remaining items. Only one was out of place: an unframed photograph of me taken months ago, just outside our home. Jane had captured it with her cell phone and had given it to me as a gift. It was the only picture I had of myself.
After slipping the photo into my top drawer, I walked to the window and opened the blinds with my good arm. It was later in the day than I thought. The sun clung stubbornly to the horizon, but night would soon have its way.
I rested my forehead against the cool glass. Darkness had already reached the edge of the forest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a familiar movement. My heart skipped a beat. Several was more like it.
Two more of the white creatures—Diablos, as Boaz had called them—were moving in and out of the trees. They wandered randomly, their bodies jerking in uneven spurts. They seemed to be waiting for something—or someone. As if sensing my thoughts, their heads jerked in my direction, eyes entirely white.
A chill erupted on my skin. I stepped away from the window and right into Boaz. His arms came around me, and I sucked in air. With my back to him, he whispered in my ear, “They will not harm you. As long as I am near, no one will ever hurt you again.”
I caved, letting him hold me longer than I should have, but to be held like that was nothing I’d ever experienced before. It was almost impossible to resist.
But I had to try.
I turned around and said with as much strength as I could muster, “I can take care of myself.”
“Like you did this morning?” Boaz brushed past me to the window and closed the blinds. “Learn to use magic, and then you will be able to take care of yourself.”
I huffed and sat down at my vanity to search the drawers. “I want nothing to do with those evil powers.”
“They’re not evil. They’re a necessity. Your abilities will save your life one day.”
I finally found what I was looking for: a long, sharp envelope opener. While I thought about Boaz’s words, I shoved the silver knife under the material on my arm and jerked upward. It tore in two and fell to the ground. Other than my arm being red from the cast, it was completely unscathed.
“Let’s say then,” I began, “that I am able to do magic. How will I know I won’t lose myself in the process? I’ve seen how magic changes people, and it’s never for the better.”
“Nothing is black or white, love. Life is full of gray. You’ll change whatever way necessary to fit your environment, and right now, you need to grow up and get over these foolish ideas of love and purity.” He reached for a book on my bookshelf, one that happened to be hidden behind one of my parent’s approved books, and tossed it onto the bed. “You are wasting your time and talent, and it’s disgusting.”
I stood abruptly, knocking back the chair I was just sitting in. “How dare you! You don’t know what I’ve had to endure living with those—” I struggled to find the right words. “—those people who have the nerve to call themselves parents.”
Boaz grinned, his eyes dancing. “Then stop enduring! Maybe then we can start having some fun!”
“Get out,” I said.
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I said, get out!” I pointed to the door, which flew open at my silent command and slammed into the wall behind it, leaving a gaping hole. I shrank back, terrified. In that small moment, when I had allowed myself to hate, the room had turned cold, and the light darkened. Even the floral smell had turned bitter.
Boaz laughed. “Didn’t that feel wonderful?” He walked to the door and inspected it. “Amazing! You didn’t even have to try. I knew you had it in you.”
“Please leave,” I said, barely above a whisper.
Boaz’s expression darkened. “If that is what you want. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
He tried to shut the door on his way out, but it closed crooked; the top hinge was broken.
I dropped into bed, appalled by what I’d done. What if Boaz told my parents? I rolled over and covered my head with a pillow. Boaz had caused this. He’d made me feel hate, the one emotion my parents had tried to teach me since birth, and he’d managed to do it after meeting me only a few times.
Even now, the remains of hate’s power tingled inside me, coursing through my blood like hot lava, darkening my thoughts. If I’d been born normal, would the feeling of hate still have been as strong? The emotion overwhelmed me, filling me to the point where it physically hurt and the only way to relieve the pain was to expel it through magic.