Contents
Title Page
Tuesday, November 5
Tuesday, November 12
Wednesday, November 13
Epilogue
Find Me Online
Mystic Academy
Scarlett Haven
Tuesday, November 5
12:27 pm
I hope she suffers.
I dread lunch every day.
At least Monday through Friday.
And it’s not the ‘eating’ part that I dread.
Every day, I sit in my little corner of the cafeteria reading something from the Kindle app on my phone and praying they don’t come over.
They are the cheerleaders. The mean girls. They’re pretty, popular, and they have a vendetta against me. Why? I don’t know. But my stepsister, Cassie, is the leader.
Cassie has hated me from the time my dad and her mom got married four years ago. Since they said “I do,” she has made it her goal in life to torture me.
At this point, it would truly be easier to tell you what she hasn’t done to me. She’s cut my hair, she’s poured her hot soup on my lap, she’s pushed me down the stairs which caused me to break my arm in three places, and most recently, she tried to run me over with her car. I had to jump into the ditch to avoid her, which was full of muddy water from a recent rainstorm. She drove away laughing, not even attempting to check on me.
I’ve tried telling her mom, but I swear her mom hates me almost as much as Cassie. She always claims I’m being ‘dramatic.’ Even my own father sides with his wife over me. And you know Cassie and the step monster make it all seem like an accident.
Yeah… because her shoving me down the stairs was an ‘accident.’
School is just as bad as home. Cassie pushes me and trips me all the time. Once, she even got her jock boyfriend to shove me into the school dumpster by the cafeteria. I had to wash my hair three times to get the soured milk smell out.
I’m hoping today I’ll be ignored. That’s all I want. I just want to sit down peacefully and eat my lunch without fearing what she’ll do next. I want to read this book, and I want to pretend like I’m living the life of a fictional character instead of me.
I should have known that would be too much though. As I take a bite of my food, something rains down on my head. It’s wet and soggy. I look up in time to see that a couple of the football players are pouring trash over my head. And not just any trash—they’re pouring trash with everybody’s uneaten food over my head. I cover my face to keep it out of my eyes, nose, and mouth, but there’s only so much I can do.
Once the trash is empty, I sit there with goulash dripping down my hair and onto the floor. The sound of Cassie and her friends laughing assaults my ears and, for a moment, I wonder what it would be like to murder somebody. It would be easy. I could just slip into her room and smother her with a pillow. I could even pretend to be sad at her funeral.
But then I realize—I can’t murder somebody. I wouldn’t last a day in prison.
“Oh, wow, Riley.” Cassie sets her mouth in a pout, putting a hand to her chest. “I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry. I seemed to have dumped my food on you.”
She then proceeds to dump her food over my head too, then she tips over her chocolate milk.
I’ve had it with her.
“Oh, she’s getting mad. Look how red her face is,” one of Cassie’s friends say.
I go to get up off my chair to do something. I’m not sure what—maybe punch Cassie. Or wipe some of this food on her. When I try to get up, I end up slipping on the food that's covering the floor and I fall down.
Laughter rings throughout the cafeteria.
I hold my head up as much as I can from the floor, not letting Cassie see how much it bothers me. I’ll save my tears for later. Thankfully, the bell rings and I don’t have to endure any more of Cassie’s abuse.
Cassie never gets in trouble. Her aunt, my step monster’s sister, is the principal of the school. Cassie always plays the ‘it was an accident’ card. One time, she even convinced her aunt that I was the one who started it and I got detention for a week—a week.
My life is so unfair, but I refuse to let it get me down.
I wait until everybody is out of the cafeteria before attempting to get up again. I can see the cafeteria ladies frowning, but they’re probably frowning at the mess, not at the abuse that I just experienced.
Everybody loves Cassie. She is beautiful—5’9”, long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a killer smile. I don’t think the girl has ever had a pimple in her life. She’s charismatic and outgoing. And she is nice to everybody, except me.
It takes me a few attempts to stand. I grab my phone and bag from the table, holding them with my clean hand as far away from my messy body as possible, and I head toward the nurse’s station.
The school nurse always takes pity on me. I think it’s because she feels bad for me.
I can barely see through the smudges on my glasses, but know it would be worse if I took them off. I'm nearly blind without them. The nurse’s station isn’t far from the cafeteria and I walk inside.
“Oh, dear. Cassie again?” she asks.
I nod.
“Go use the shower and I’ll find something for you to wear and set it in there for you,” she says.
I give her a grateful smile, sitting my bag and phone down, and then head to take a shower.
Something has to change. I can’t keep living like this. I miss class at least once a week because I’m dealing with Cassie drama. I’m lucky my grades haven’t suffered. I can’t go to the principal, I can’t go to my dad, and my teachers just turn a blind eye to everything. I think that’s why I’m still passing all my classes—because it’s their way of trying to help me in this horrible situation.
It’s not right.
When I get out of the shower, I spot a shirt on the counter that is a double xl. Thankfully my bra and underwear were spared from damage today. I slip the shirt over my head, and it literally goes past my knees. Well, good thing, because there is no way I was going to put my pants back on.
I stuff my clothes inside a plastic bag and walk out of the bathroom.
“You feeling better?” Ms. Nancy, the nurse, asks.
“Much.”
“Come sit.” She pats a stool, so I walk over and take a seat.
Ms. Nancy might be the only kind person in my life right now. She starts brushing my hair and puts it into two French braids for me.
Since Cassie cut my hair when we were thirteen, it’s grown out. I looked horrible with short hair. Part of me is worried Cassie will try it again, but we’re too old for her lie of “we were playing hairdresser and I accidentally cut it” to work. We weren’t playing hairdresser. I wouldn’t let Cassie within fifty feet of my hair if I could help it. Or of me in general.
“Why don’t you go home?” Ms. Nancy asks, when she finishes my hair. “I’ll say you were running a fever.”
But how would I get home?
I smile, thinking of how I have the spare key to the car in my bag.
Cassie has a bad habit of locking her keys in the car, so Dad gave me the spare, despite Cassie’s protests.
Cassie is three months older than me, so she’s the only one allowed to drive the car. Let’s just forget the fact that Cassie can’t drive—she failed her written test five times, failed the driving part seven times, and she’s gotten into three accidents since we got the car—all of them were her fault too. And yet I’m the bad driver? I passed all my tests the first time.
“That’s a good idea. Thank you, Ms. Nancy.” I smile at her, hoping that someday I can repay her kindness to me.
I leave the nurse’s office and head to the parking lot, searching for the BMW my dad bought for
Cassie and me. The white car shines in the sunlight, and I shake my head as I’m greeted with the mar on the otherwise perfect car—the huge dent in the bumper from when Cassie backed into a red pole. Some of the red paint is still on the car. I let out a laugh and climb into the driver’s seat.
Cassie has left me at school many times and I was forced to walk two miles home. She has friends, so she won’t have to walk, but I wouldn’t care if she did. I am sick to death of her. I hope she suffers.
6:30 pm
A little dramatic?
I’m still wearing the oversize t-shirt that Ms. Nancy got me and I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
My homework is done and I’m just waiting for drama to go down.
Cassie hasn’t come back from school yet. I know she’ll be here soon. She always goes to a friends house after school and only shows up in time for dinner because her mom makes her. She forced me to walk home a few times—once from school and once from her friend’s house. But my dad put his foot down and told her if she didn’t bring me home, she wouldn’t get to drive the car anymore. Now she drives me home, and barely gives me time to get out of the car before she tears out of the driveway, throwing gravel behind her.
When the front door opens, I tense up, waiting to hear it slam. I’m waiting for yelling and screaming.
There is no slam. The door shuts normally.
“Cassie,” my step monster yells up the stairs.
Yikes.
She is going to be really mad when she realizes what I did today, but I couldn’t care less.
The step monster doesn’t call Cassie’s name again, which I expected. Cassie ignores her mom unless she wants something. It’s almost kind of sad, really.
It isn’t until five minutes later that the drama really begins. Dad shows up only moments before Cassie. And Cassie… she comes into the house screaming and throwing a fit. She slams doors and stomps her feet like a three year old. And I just stay in my room until I’m summoned. I know I’ll be called eventually, but right now I want to delay the inevitable.
There is a knock on my door and I tense. I listen carefully. Cassie is still downstairs, yelling at her mom, so I open the door cautiously and see Dad on the other side. I open the door wider so he can enter.
“You took the car and left Cassie at school?” Dad asks as he walks inside my room.
I shut the door behind him, trying to lessen the sound of yelling from downstairs and turn to face him.
“Did she tell you that she dumped garbage on me in the cafeteria today? I had to shower in the nurse’s station. Ms. Nancy gave me this shirt to wear.” I pull at the shirt. “I didn’t want to go back to class after that—it was humiliating. So Ms. Nancy wrote down that I was running a fever and sent me home.”
Dad sighs. “You know you have to start getting along with your sister at some point.”
“Stepsister.” I shake my head. “That girl is not blood related to me, Dad. She’s… pure evil.”
“Pure evil is a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Dad gives me a pointed look.
“If she came face to face with the devil, he would tremble in her presence.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Riley. You have to at least try.”
I throw my hands up. “I have tried. So many times. You know I have. I just wish you’d take my side for once in your life. I’m your daughter.”
“But she’s my daughter too,” Dad says.
I sigh, knowing that is all I will get out of him. “If I treated her half as bad as she treats me, I would have been shipped off to some boarding school in Europe.”
“I would never send you to boarding school.”
I huff, and merely stare at him.
“Riley, you are my daughter and I love you. But Cassie is also my daughter. You shouldn’t have taken the car,” he says.
Tears press against the back of my eyes as I look at him. “You realize that when I leave for college, I am not coming back, right? I won’t come for Thanksgiving or Christmas or Easter or anything. I hate them, Dad.”
“Don’t say that.” His voice is tight and he looks sick at my words.
“You’re making me hate you too.” A tear falls from my eye. “And I don’t want to hate you.”
“Riley…” His voice trails off and I can see the fight in his eyes. But I can also see the defeat. “You’re grounded. No going out for the next two weeks.”
“Where would I go anyway?” I shout. “Nobody likes me because they’re scared of Cassie.”
Dad’s face turns red. And I know I shouldn’t keep going, but I just can’t help myself.
“You know what, screw this.” I grab my phone from my nightstand and slip on a pair of tennis shoes.
“What are you doing?” Dad asks.
“I’m leaving.” I stand in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m daring him to stop me.
“Where are you going this time of night?”
“I don’t care. Anywhere is better than here. I’d rather die than be here.”
I storm past him and out the door of my room. My feet thump hard against the stairs as I run down them, and when I see Cassie smirking at the bottom, I walk right up to her and slap her across the face. She screams, holding her face in shock. I keep walking, vaguely aware that the step monster is yelling at me, but I don’t care. I simply walk out the front door, slamming it behind me.
Dang.
That felt good.
10:30 pm
Too young to die.
I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve just been walking around the park for the last four hours, ignoring all the calls from my dad. I do take the time to listen to the voicemails as they come through. At first, he was yelling at me for storming out like that and for slapping Cassie. Then his voicemails got calm, telling me if I came home I wouldn’t be in trouble. He said we could talk about it as a family. That’s laughable. We haven’t been a family for four years. Now, his voicemails are getting more frantic. He’s worried about me. That alone almost makes me go back, but I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. I don’t want to go back into that toxic household tonight. I… I need a break.
It’s a little creepy to be walking around the park at night. There are lights around, but it’s still pretty dark. I hold my pepper spray in my hand, just in case. I do feel safer with it in my hand.
I need this walk. I need time to myself to think.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. There isn’t really anybody I could call. My grandmother on my dad’s side passed away early last year. She would have taken me in. There is always my mom’s parents, but I don’t even know how to get ahold of them. I suppose I could ask my dad.
My mom passed away when I was three. My dad raised me from then on. It was us against the world for ten years. And then he met Katheryn, who I refer to as step monster. I actually haven’t had a conversation with her in the past fours years. Not one conversation.
Yes, she’s yelled at me.
Yes, she’s demanded I do things.
But not once has she ever asked how my day was. Not once has she taken care of me when I was sick. I remember this one time, Cassie and I were both home with the flu. And the step monster brought Cassie water and soup and medicine. I was too sick to get out of bed, so I didn’t eat or drink anything for over forty-eight hours—not until my dad got back from his business trip. He had to take me to the hospital for dehydration where I had to stay for two nights.
Just thinking about that makes my blood boil.
I’m not going back. I’d rather sleep on a park bench than spend another night in that house.
The sound of shouting draws my attention and I’m worried my dad found me, so I look up and see that it’s not my dad. Two guys are fighting beneath a tree. Their faces aren’t visible from here, I can only see shadows. My hand grasps the pepper spray in a tight grip and I keep walking. I hope it isn’t some kind of drug deal that went south. That’s the last thing I want to deal with toni
ght. If the cops show up, they’d force me to go back home. Or maybe I could convince them to let me sleep in a cell overnight.
Am I seriously thinking that? That I’d rather stay overnight in jail than go back home? Have things really gotten that bad?
The answer is yes. I know it has. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. I still don’t.
I’m so lost in my thoughts, that I don’t hear footsteps coming up behind me. I don’t see anything until it’s too late. Somebody grabs me and…
Bites me?
It feels like they’re stinging me almost.
I’m too young to die. I can’t go like this.
But the pain… it disappears almost as quick as it came and I’m left with an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction. The desire to fight whoever is holding me from behind is non-existent. I just let them bite me. I am vaguely aware that something is pressed against my mouth and there is some kind of liquid going down my throat.
Everything starts to dim and my bad night disappears. All I’m left with is this feeling of euphoria that I never want to end.
If this truly is the end of my life, maybe dying isn’t so bad after all.
Tuesday, November 12
One week later…
12:00 am
The full moon.
I gasp for air as my eyes open, and I try to sit up but I can’t. My head hits against something soft.
What the heck?
I feel around the small, dark area, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light.
Actually, I can see well, which surprises me. There isn’t an ounce of light coming into this room.
Is the electricity out?
Did I fall off my bed and somehow end up with my head stuck under a piece of furniture.
But once I start feeling around and really look, I start to realize…
Am I…
I kick my feet.
Dear God.
I’m in a coffin.
I remember one time I was watching this silly documentary online and I specifically remember them saying that if you’re ever buried alive, the first thing you do is remain calm. They say if you panic, you’ll run out of oxygen sooner. But how can you do anything but panic when you wake up inside a coffin?
Mystic Academy Page 1