Witch!

TWO

Betra

I hurried out of the woods, careful not to be seen. All I needed was my younger sister questioning me. She plagued me enough. Especially when it came to Amorie.

If I could have stayed locked onto those lips forever, I would have. I'd been craving that kiss for years — since we were kids. I couldn't help the way my heart yearned for her. I'd always been mesmerized by her presence. If she was nearby, my eyes felt glued. It was like I'd fall into a hypnotic trance without realizing it. Sometimes I couldn't decipher if the sun shone from the sky or from her golden locks. My heart would flip when she was around me, and when she wasn't, my heart would ache. I'd miss her throughout the day when I wouldn't see her meandering around our small town. We had only recently started spending time alone together in the woods, but even before then, my heart wouldn't stop singing for her.

But this was weird. Why did I feel this way about her? And only her? I was so naturally drawn to her. It intrigued me and plagued me. Mostly because my sister had caught onto my fascination years ago and held it against me as a weapon. That meant I was a prisoner to her beckoning call - or else.

I'd roll my eyes when she would suspect Amorie had performed magic on me.

"She put a spell on you - a love spell!" It wasn't an innocent thing to joke about, though. Not anymore. To suspect Amorie be some witch was a potential death sentence. The town had become caught up in the ridiculous witch hunt phenomenon supposedly going on in the nearby cities. I didn't really believe in such a thing as witches, but the idea of public scrutiny frightened me nonetheless.

But how had Amorie healed my hand? I couldn't get the thought out of my head. I was afraid to know the truth because I feared I'd still love her regardless…my feelings were that powerful. Sometimes I hated them. They were the one thing I couldn't control…

"Where have you been?" Sita asked upon my return home. Her typically perfectly-assembled brown hair was in a semi-messy bun on top of her head. Her slightly oversized glasses were prominently displayed across her face yet looked a bit crooked. She was in her evening dress as if she'd just been out somewhere. I didn't bother to ask why she looked disheveled. I didn't care. Leftovers from dinner were in the fridge for me. That was my focus.

"None of your business," I muttered, grabbing the plate of food.

"Picking flowers with your girlfriend?" she teased.

"Shut up," I stated. Sita laughed mockingly.

"She's so weird. I don't know why you spend time with her. Lesbians." With that intended insult, she left me alone in the kitchen to eat in peace. But my stomach was reeling from her words.

Lesbian… I wasn't a lesbian. I didn't want to be. Although our country had become relatively progressive about gay love, it was still a means for scrutiny in our town—especially my family, who had a huge stake in how the city viewed life.

I mindlessly ate the steak, avoided the vegetables, and devoured the mashed potatoes while daydreaming about the next time I could kiss Amorie's perfectly-defined lips. Maybe I'd even dare to put my hands on her body. I wanted to touch her so badly.