Page 46 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“It’s not just about being scared. I’m not going to subject him to what fate has in store for me as the dark twin. Unlike you, I don’t have a bright future. Why would I bother dragging him into my life, falling for him, only to shatter his heart with my death.”
Her eyes go white for a moment, her mouth open as she breathes through whatever she is seeing. I remember the first time it happened when we were merely smallchildren. I was about to climb a tree to grab an apple when she screamed. Her tiny hands covered her face as she shook her head frantically. Her pleas for it to stop still ring in my ears as if I’m standing there right now.
It wasn’t until our mother, Ophelia, came running outside that I got my first taste of being the unwanted one. She shook me by my shoulders, demanding I tell her what I did to her sweet Elora. The vision passed, but the scars of that moment remain. Elora cried into our mothers shoulder about how she saw me fall and break my arm trying to climb the tree. She said it felt so real.
Later, after I snuck out of the house, it was Mabel who told me what had happened. Not my mother, who hadn’t left Elora’s side. Nor my father, who would rather spend his time reading over tomes from some long-dead warlock than comfort his other daughter. I used to think he would be on my side, but one look from him when I needed my tears dried, and I knew I would never find comfort in his arms.
Mabel had tapped her thigh before spreading her arms wide open for me. Scrambling up into her lap, I had buried my face in her black lace top that smelled of mystical moonlight, comfort, and serenity. A combination I will always associate with comfort. When my tears had finally dried and my hiccups subsided, she explained Elora was a seer. A powerful, yet terrifying ability. While some would covet the knowledge she had, the knowledge of what will happen to those she loves and cares for would always torment her. She could never stop the vision from coming nor alter the information she saw.
From that day on, Elora was in classes with our elder seer to train her in the art,while I was left to play by myself. By the time Elora came home in the evenings, she would be too tired to play. We were only four, yet they treated her as if she were an adult. I can’t even remember if she played dolls with me again.
The only person who even bothered to see what kind of magic I had was Mabel. She was the person who gave mebooks to use to study with, watched my attempts at bone scrying, and would lecture me when I dabbled a little too far. Unfortunately, I’m the only dark witch in our coven so everything I’ve learned is from texts from previous dark twins. You would think this would have been what bonded my father and I together, but you would be wrong. He would scrunch his nose and curse every time he read the title of the book I was reading. Apparently his love for books doesn’t extend to what I’m reading, only what he’s reading. One more reason for my perfect wizard father to look down on me.
Elora gasps when her vision ends, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She always has a disoriented look to her when she comes out of them. As if she is determining if she is back in the present or still in the future.
“Bells,” she says on a breath.
I never know if I actually want to know what she’s seen. But the urge is always there, whispering in the back of my mind.Just ask her. You know you want to know.
“I don’t want to know.”
A weary sigh escaped her lips. “But you need to know.”
“No. I don’t. You want me to know, but I don’t want to know.”
“It has to do with the curse.”
I shake my head, holding her gaze even if she’s pleading with her eyes. I will not fall for it. There’s nothing good that can come from that knowledge.
“El, you are the twin our parents want and adore. Just let me live out the tragedy of being the dark twin. I accepted my fate a long time ago.”
“Bells, please…”
“Enough, I don’t want to talk about fate or the golden retriever that is floating around this town. Either enjoy some coffee with me or leave me to do so.”
She picks up her cup of coffee, the motion slow and heavy, like the weight of her thoughts drags against her hand. I know she isn’t really going to let it die here, but I will live in the belief that she won’t push her vision into reality.
Later after several cups of coffee and two glasses of wine, Elora and I are in fits of giggles on the couch, laughing over the Regency ghost that recited poetry to me in front of Mabel. We are taking turns standing up to make sonnets for the other with words of love and affection.
Elora’s eyes are puffy from the amount of tears that have fallen as she laughed. Her lashes are clumped together as her eyes dance.
“Please tell me what you did as revenge for that one? I know you didn’t let him get away with that one?”
“Actually.” I put a finger to my chin. “I hadn’t, but now that you mentioned it…” I move my nose from side to side, our little joke about being witches. “That should give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“Oh, no…” She grips her side as she rolls over on the couch. “What have you done?”
“Nothing too serious…”
“Bellamy…”
“Fine, I just hexed him to see himself as a Regency-era poet, with a powder wig included. Every time he looks at his reflection, he will see it.”
“That’s a good one!” We both burst out laughing imagining him in that outfit. It’s pretty funny, and I wish I could see it myself.
We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking wine, laughing, and gossiping about all the men in our tiny town. It’s the most I’ve laughed in a while, and it reminds me of when we first moved out of our parents’ house. It was the first time we were able to spend time together without expectations or judgement.
She leaves when the sun starts to set, casting a warm glow through the house. Nyx and Lady are curled up together on his bed, peacefully sleeping as the last rays of sun warm them.