Running to a Magical Land

Ever since they'd died, it had been my brother, Tom and I. To start with, everything was alright but as the months passed, everything went downhill. Tom acted as if something had possessed him and strange things kept happening to me. Magical things. Magical things I couldn't explain, I'd learnt to except that these things were happening but the powers were growing stronger.


1. Not the Same

Chapter 1 – Not the Same

Nothing was the same anymore, I was being abused and all traces of hope were pushed out of my body as I took yet another blow to my face. My dry throat housed the screams I’d been wanting to let out for months. My eyes welled up but the devil that stood before me showed no signs of mercy as he beat me. I closed my eyes and thought of a happy place that would, eventually, be my new home.

“Get up.” He spat. He, being my brother - Tom.

“Yes.” I replied, groaning as I leant on my elbow.        

He reached down and grabbed me by the ear, pulling me to my feet. A single tear rolled down my left cheek, over a new cut. Tom released the grip from my ear and instead held me by the shoulder as he led me upstairs, to my room. Opening the door and practically throwing me in, Tom threw a bag of make-up that just about landed on my bed.

“You have half an hour. Tops.” He said, shutting the door.

            Sitting down on my bed, I touched the fresh cut that was bleeding manically. Walking to my bathroom, I looked at my bruised reflection in the cracked mirror. Great, another bloody cut… I hated my brother. I hated that he did this to me. Whining as I pulled off my t-shirt, I stared at the purple patches that covered almost every inch of my battered body. I took off the rest of my clothes and climbed into the shower. Tiny needles of water injected themselves into my shoulders. Blood from my cheek wound flowed with the stream of water and into the plug-hole. The cut on my cheek stung when stray shampoo, from my long golden locks, trickled down my face. Getting out the shower, I dried myself down as much as I could without hurting myself anymore.

“Nearly ready?” I heard Tom shout.

“Almost.” I replied, uncertainly.

“You better hurry up,” I tried to zone out his voice. “I’ve reserved a table for two.”

“Okay.” I replied, gulping.

“Wear something pretty, or else!”

            I hated when he said ‘or else’. I hated it especially because he meant it. I groaned to myself and pulled a long red dress out of my wardrobe. A dress that once fitted me nicely, now hung loosely on my bony body. I pulled the concealer out of the make-up bag that was chucked on my bed and rubbed it into the dark circles below my sleepless eyes. A small amount went onto my arms and my cut started to heal itself, leaving a small scar. Mascara made my eyes stand out and a flick of black eye-liner made my big blue eyes seem as though they hadn’t shed a tear in a long time. My hair was up in a small bun and only two strands draped down behind either of my ears.

“Are you ready yet?” A voice called from downstairs.

“Coming.” I shouted back. Grabbing a black jacket and putting on a pair of flat shoes, I jumped down the stairs and looked Tom in the eyes. “Ready.” I said stiffly.

“Good.” He took my arm and we left the small cottage that, once, belonged to our parents.

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