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.[Content Warning: Violence and Abuse]

I stare down at the flames, hugging myself amidst the chaos that had ensued.

Blurred images, muffled screams, they all flashed through my mind.

It was all confusing.

What happened?

---------

The day it began.

Was the day it all ended.

I was young then, fourteen. I stirred, like any other day, as the first signs of light shone through the window.

Mother and father were already outside, feeding the pigs, tending to our cow, milking the goats for cheese we'd sell in the market later.

Our family dog lay next to me, licking my face.

I giggled in protest and grunted at the heat of the sun.

When I sat up, I felt strange.

I felt a sudden jolt of pain in my stomach.

Keeling over, I sighed heavily and looked down.

One single red splotch on the blanket.

I lifted it from myself.

Then screamed.

Mother rushed in, father shortly after.

I sobbed and screamed.

"I'm dying! I'm dying! Mother, you must help, I'm dying!"

Mother crept in front of me, holding my face gently, and stared down at the blood.

"Oh honeysuckle, everything will be all right. You're not dying," she looked over at my father, nodding him outside.

Fellow villagers could be heard gathering outside.

"Ya hear that? What's all this fuss?"

"She did somethin' 'gain, din' she?"

"Should'a burnd 'er ages ago."

"Witch!"

"Damned brat!"

"Could you tell them off already!" Mother shouted.

Father was talking with the others, trying to calm them.

"Let us get you cleaned up then, shall we?" Mother said, meekly, "In the meantime, try calming down dear."

She cleaned me, then washed the blood from her hands.

"See? Nothing to worry about. We're just going to give you some extra cloth, which you use here to keep you nice and dry."

"What about the pain?"

"You can take the time off today, okay? Try to stay inside and relax. You might be a bit more sensitive today. Once supper comes, we can sit down and talk about this nice and proper, okay?"

I nodded.

"I've left bread on the table for you, and some milk. Bertie made it fresh just for you."

I wiped the remnants of my tears.

----

I slept most of the day then, stirring occasionally when I'd heard a loud sound, or when a crow cawed too much.

Somehow they knew when I'd woken, for then they'd silence themselves.

When I'd woken later, before the sun started to set, I overheard my parents in the kitchen.

"You know what this means Deliah," my father started, "have you seen her? She's already changing. Who knows what she's capable of at this point!"

"We don't know that yet! What they told us then, they could have been wrong!"

"Wrong? Wrong? They warned us of the risks, you saw what she did just a few months ago to the damned pig!"

"They warned us, and we still took her in. You were willing all those years ago. It was never a problem before, what she's able to do. She's gifted, that's all."

"They should have been back by now, Deliah. What if this was a jest, huh? You know what their kind are capable of. What she is capable of. I say we get rid of her now before she causes any more trouble."

"No, no! She's as much our child as she is theirs, all right? I refuse-"

SLAP.

Mother held her hand to her face, shocked.

"-Shut up! You know nothing of what you speak of. I'm sick of this damned place, the stench. We were forced out here, on this damned farm, living off of whatever coin we can manage. I don't care about our duty, I'm done with her!"

Something welled inside of me.

A sudden rush of anger.

More than what was common.

A heat formed in my eyes.

I stormed in.

Without thought, a force threw my father against the wall. He groaned as his head cracked, blood falling from his skull.

My mother had barely any time to react. She had her mouth covered, as I lifted her from the floor in a purplish-black mist.

A wind entered the room, a storm filled my heart.

My dog barked.

I cocked my head in its direction.

It yelped, falling lifelessly to the floor.

I stared at the ceiling as my mother choked on the mist.

I screamed in agony.

Then everything went silent.

Her body thumped to the floor.

And I cried helplessly.

I could hear our animals outside, bellowing restlessly.

I crawled over to my family, their lifeless bodies.

And I sobbed.

One came, two came, they screamed and ran from the home when they peeked inside.

More came, chanting.

"Burn the witch! Burn the witch!"

They stormed in the room, spitting and cursing at me as they'd done before.

I cried and cried, looking from one face to the other.

They aimed weapons at me, sticks, picks, anything they could find.

I covered my ears, trying to muffle my sobs, the shouts, and the images of my family.

And then it all came out.

Screams arose for a moment, heat surrounded my body, but I kept my eyes closed.

When I opened them, all I could hear was the crackling of flames. Everything was charred, save the spot I was kneeling on.

I looked around helplessly, shocked, nothing clicked.

I wandered out, hugging myself, trying not to look at the burnt.

I could barely make out the bodies.

The flame, still engulfing everything, moved around me as I passed.

My nose bled, I coughed blood, my tears were mixed with red, it came from my ears too.

As I exhaustedly walked up the hill at the edge of our village, I stood next to the old oak tree, gazing down in horror at the blazing village.

Embers blew through the wind.

Ashes lay on my face.

I wiped them, gazing down at my soiled fingers.

I collapsed along the dirt road.

And this, my friends, is how I came upon my last name: Nash.

----

(Edit by me: Font, filters, duplication, flames in hair, nosebleed, snow, and light in eyes. Artist is Kilka D, who drew Mirabel as seen above.)

"English: topographic name for someone who lived by an ash tree, a variant of Ash by misdivision of Middle English atten ash 'at the ash'"