Page 2 of Locked
I should have known better, honestly. Mother never minced her words around me. She never even tried to sugar-spell anything at all. I had known what the consequences were before I had misbehaved. But I had still done it.
Almost like I was testing her or something. Even though Iknewwhat she was capable of.
She never forgot anything. Never forgave a grudge. It was the whole reason I was locked in this tower, for gods' sakes.
"Zelle, can wepleaseturn on a light?" Basil asked, rubbing against my shoulder as he walked along the arm of the chair. I couldn't see him in the darkness save for his yellow eyes, catching the dulling light from my tablet screen and refracting it times a hundred. For such an old cat, he still had the brightest eyes.
"Why do you care?" I asked. "Youcan see in the dark."
"Yes, butyoucan't. And you really should turn on a light and go take a look at yourself," he sniffed, perching himself on the end of the couch arm to begin grooming himself in what was most likely a passive aggressive manner. "Run a brush through that mop on your head."
Scoffing, I tossed the tablet onto the other end of the couch and stood, walking towards the doorway. I had to make a short leap to avoid the babbling brook that ran through the entire apartment and I cursed as I stubbed my toe on the door frame.
That wasn't a good sign. I wasn't clumsy by nature. I could usually gauge where everything was even with my eyes closed. Either my powers had been depleted lower than ever and my body was trying to compensate, or I'd simply stopped caring.
I raised my hand, snapping my fingers and not getting so much as a flicker out of the lights.
I swore under my breath. My powers reallywereweak. It was lucky that tomorrow was the end of my punishment, or I might not be able to muster enough energy to even get out of bed.
I fumbled around on the wall, finding the switch Mother had placed there. I'd always thought it was kind of silly to place a light switch in a witch's apartment, but now that I was thinking about it, this was likely the precise reason she had done so. It didn't make me feel any better, having to resort to non-magical ways of doing things. Sure, the light was on, but at what cost?
The fake, fluorescent light flooded the hallway, illuminating my path from the living room to the bathroom. I simply followed the brook, keeping my eyes down so I could easy see where the shallow drop-off into the water was and not accidentally step into it and kill a magical goldfish or something. Also, any reason to halfway shield my eyes from the fake light was welcome.
The mirrors refracted it infinitely and regardless of how much I tried not to look directly into the lights, I felt a dull headache begin to pound right behind my eyes anyway.
There were no fake windows in the bathroom, thankfully, but I kept the light off all the same. There was no need to cause myself any more discomfort than I already was. I left the door wide open as I finally peered into the vanity mirror at my reflection.
My eyes were ringed with darkened skin. Sunken. Bloodshot. I looked like I felt, apparently. Like a green witch with no sun. No fresh air. Nothing except the filtered air that the vents blew throughout the entire apartment. My blue eyes were lackluster. My skin, normally pink and golden, was grayish and dull. My long, head-full of blonde waves looked like a rat's nest.
I was wearing the same shirt and leggings I had been wearing the day before. And possibly the day before that as well, I couldn't really remember.
Around my neck was the same locket that had always been there. Rose gold, matching chain, obsidian stone in the center. It looked tarnished in the dull light, as if even my jewelry was suffering the effects of my depleted powers.
Upon facing down my own horrid reflection, I thought back to my stubbed toe moments earlier and wondered if I hadn't just stopped caring.
Closing my eyes, I summoned up as much energy as I was able and aimed my fingertips at my head. The knots unraveled themselves, leaving me with a head of messy waves, but no more knots or tangles. Nothing a quick brushing wouldn't fix.
I picked up the brush from the vanity, running it through my super-long tresses and feeling the tiniest bit better for it.
Glancing behind me at the tub, I mentally flicked the tap and hummed as the tub began to fill with hot, soapy water.
"Good, you're bathing. I love you and everything, Zelle, but you were getting kind of ripe…" Basil quipped from the hallway.
"You're one to talk, tuna breath…" I muttered.
"Ouch," he said, tilting his head up. "At least I'm taking care of myself. Which is more than I can say about you."
"You're easier to take care of than I am," I insisted.
"No kidding." He pushed back on his hind legs, stretching his sleek, black-furred body in the process. "I was starting to worry…"
"I'll be fine tomorrow when Mother lets me sunbathe again."
Basil's eyes narrowed at the mention of my guardian. "I don't care for Mother's most recent punishment, Zelle."
"I don't think you're supposed to, it's a punishment, after all."
"No. You need fresh air more than most. She's supposed to be taking care of you."
