punishment
Agatha refused to tell Rio, but she didn’t want to be alone. She had been… seeing things, but she didn’t want to worry Rio. It was probably her magick taking over again; it didn’t really like her thinking about what had happened on her birthday.
Neither did she.
She gripped the edge of her dress tightly as she walked through the forest, her other one near a small knife she kept on her belt: just in case.
The trees darkened around her, a little too familiar.
“Oh, no.”
Agatha started running, trying to teleport back, but her magick refused to work.
“I really don’t wanna do this shit right now!” She yelled to no one. Her path got blocked by the gallow she knew all too well, witches in cloaks awaiting her. She grasped at her brooch, then turned the other way, running. She stopped when she found herself in the basement.
“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” She repeated to herself, turning the other way.
Only to be blocked by a face.
Her face.
“Agatha Harkness, where are you going?”
Agatha’s vision narrowed as she stared into her mother’s stone-cold eyes.
“Is that— ”
Despite knowing it wasn’t real, Agatha found herself as the 6-year-old who had lived it as her mother screamed, running over to her father’s corpse.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?
“I didn’t—“
Her words got cut by a slap.
“No.” She shook her head, running out of the basement. “This isn’t real.”
She found herself in the kitchen but didn’t stop. She ran until she arrived at the safety of her home, shutting the door behind her. She rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of whatever her magick was making her see. When she reopened her eyes, she found herself in a room of mirrors. She clutched her brooch even tighter, hyperventilating. The mirrors shattered into a million pieces, a vision of her mother from all the different times she had hurt her in each one. All her scars turned back into open wounds, blood gushing from each one as she sank to the floor.