Mercy will be the first to admit that waking in a hospital ward is not one of the greatest experiences she has had. It sure as hell was not a miracle. And yet the nurse hovering over Mercy was congratulating her on making it out of a coma.
She tried to sit up, her spine felt like jelly. She didn't let it deter her; she swung her legs over the side of the cot and let them dangle. Her head was wobbling to the side.
"How long was I out?"
The nurse, Lucille, her name tag read, came to her side and helped to straighten her. "You were out for two nights. It's now ten in the morning. Sunday morning." She stated.
Two days, two nights. She had been in a coma for forty-eight hours. She found that remarkable, seeing as she never got the recommended eight hours of sleep each night. If it wasn't the nightmares, then it would be this energy spike she got each night. No matter how exhausted she was, her body lit up like a firecracker.
And now, she felt like that once more. Not only her body, but her mind, too. Electricity shot through her whole being. Before she knew it, she was out of bed and gliding to two giant steel double doors. She did not know why; she sensed a presence. A familiar one.
The doors opened and the two women from before appeared. Along with two men.
"Please lay down, miss Lockhart, you may feel fine now, but soon your senses will keep up with your injuries." Nurse Lucille came to Mercy's side and gripped her shoulders. Pulling her back. Mercy allowed it. She felt she needed to sit down. Too many adults in the room. Mercy hated the adult eye. Sometimes her parents' eyes unnerved her. Made her feel less than she was, small.
"I feel fine." The words were true. At that moment. The next moment she felt the aftereffects of what happened yesterday. Her knees throbbed once more. She looked down to see they were bandaged. Her throat burned, the taste of acid still present. Mercy felt she might gag again. Her body was no longer jelly, it was stiff as stone. Her back was straight as a rod. If she slouched even a little, her abdomen would ache. What was this? She hadn't felt half this bad two days ago.
"Looks like the potion wore off. I will brew another and get it to you in the next hour, sweetie." Lucille runs out the door.
The other adults tell her to hurry, the skip in her step increasing. Then she is gone and the doors close behind her. Mercy clutches her midsection. She did not feel well at all. The chatter in the room starts to rise. Her ears ring.
"Can everyone please, just… quiet please." She spoke sharply. A gasp coming out, bile rising up in her throat once more. This sucked.
She took a chance and raised her head. Her vision cleared slightly. The chatter dies down and all eyes are on her once more. "I have a lot of questions. I am going to point to someone." She pauses to take a breath. "And only that person will answer." Her voice pleading.
"Where am I?" mercy points to the boy lady with a pointy hat. She seems taken aback, her voice faltering. She studies Mercy and decides to play along. Most likely finding that doing anything else would send Mercy into a psychotic breakdown.
"You are in the nursing wing."
"And where is this nursing wing?" Mercy tried to keep the snap out of her tone.
"Callisto Prep."
Mercy was getting frustrated with the woman. Others seemed just as capable of answering her next question. She pointed to the male closest to her. "What is Callisto Prep?"
"It is a school." He clears his throat and clearly states, "It is a school for young witches and wizards. They learn their magical abilities nad master them. Then move on to another academy to pursue a specialty to find their way in this world. Separated from the human world."
Out of all the facts he stated, Mercy zoned in one one thing. Magic.
"Would that make the lot of you magic?" Mercy points to the next male. He just gives an affirmative nod. Mercy notes his expression towards her, one of caution and mistrust. The final woman, the one that grabbed me and teleported me here, seemed to get antsy.
"What is your name?" She points to the copper haired woman. Her frustration seems to rise. Obviously, that was not a question she thought worthy of her attention. She is one to strive for achievement. The question was simple compared to the others. Mercy belittled Westwood. Good. She felt like she was gaining some more control.
Westwood answered anyway.
"My name is Rose. Rose Westwood." Mercy gives her a curt nod. It's a strange name. Then again, so was Mercy.
A thought comes up. "Lockhart, you said my real last name was Lockhart. How do you figure?"
No one speaks up. She did not point to anyone.
She figures she may as well figure out their names instead of continuing to point at them. She asked them to introduce themselves. From left to right they are: Professor Ecko, Professor Lumero, Professor Quinn, and, of course, Professor Westwood. That would be simple enough to remember. Four names. Five, including the nurse.
She could handle that. She needed to handle that. She would handle it.
"I suppose calling each of you professor will not do?" Mercy tries to joke. It doesn't have the effect she hoped for.
"You. Lumero right?" He nods once. "Mind answering my earlier question?" He does not miss a beat. He steps forward and takes Mercy's hand. Looking at her with eyes that ask permission. She allows him to do whatever he is planning. As far as she is concerned, they could kill her on the spot if they wanted. Why they hadn't yet, she was hoping to find out.
He takes out a knife. She instantly flinches back and tries to take her hand with her. A futile attempt. His grip is firm and unrelenting. He nicks her skin, the top of her hand, just below her knuckles. She hisses. This pain was far more noticeable than that in the rest of her body.
"What the-" Her breath is caught in her throat. Professor Lumero makes quick work of taking out his wand. Wand? How had she known the term for that stick? Her mind focuses back on Professor Lumero, he points the wand at her hand, the blood that escapes the wound stops and then floats. Droplets circling the air above her hand. They merge. The bigger droplet transfigures into a sheen of blood. As wide as the palm of Mercy's palm. She is fascinated, far too fascinated to be frightened. Her awe grows more when the blood clears and the picture of a woman and man shows up.
They are standing next to a bridge. Wands drawn and shooting fire, great purple flames coming out of their wands. They wave them around elegantly, they laugh and look to eachother. Love in their eyes. Screams pierce the air. Each time someone is hit by their fire. They are looking only to eachother, killing others and laughing. They seem happy, overjoyed in their massacre.
All Mercy can think is that the woman looks much like her. Her laugh sounds like Mercy's. Her smile, while wider than hers, shows just as much teeth as Mercy's did. Her eyes glinted evilly. Mercy shook her head. Wanting it to stop. Not being able to utter a word. Completely speechless.
Then the image warps. Another woman is shown now, looking similar to the other, but younger than both her nad Mercy. A girl. She is sitting at a table, glaring at a girl across from her. The girl seems uneasy. She turns away and the glaring one whispers words under her breath. The other screams. She screams and the glaring one is now laughing. That laugh. Once again. Very similar to Mercy's. It shakes her to her core.
What was she witnessing? Who were these women? Mercy knew who, but refused to admit it to herself. Refused to believe it. The evil is present in both their eyes. Mercy never saw that glint on her own.
The image disappears, and the blood drops back to her hand with a splat. She feels faint. The ringing in her ears is back. She looks at her hand. The cut gone. The blood seems to be stuck in place; the droplets solidifying and rolling to the ground with a clink. She jumps.
Mercy could not believe it. She was afraid. She had never been afraid. Unsure at time, on the precipice of losing her shit from the irritable pranks and bullying she endured in school. Yes. But afraid? She had never. Not even that day behind the bush. She had just regretted not running faster. Not running longer. She regretted that day. It had been her fault. She wanted to forget about it.
That was the closest she had been too afraid.
Now here she was. Out of her element. Away from the real world and trapped in this magical reality. Magical. Magic. That was what she had witnessed: magic. Full of magic. The kind that could not be explained by science.
She didn't understand it. And that was what unnerved her. She had always been able to find a logical reasoning for things, therefore she had not been afraid. Then she remembered the chase earlier with the monster. Earlier? No, two days ago. Yes. She had been afraid then as well. There were now two instances in her life where she feared the unknown. She did not want to opt for a third. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get home.
Home. She had no home. Home was a chaotic mess. That monster she knew to be her mother would be there. Would most likely end up killing her the moment she stepped foot on the lawn. No, she couldn't go home. Then where could she go? She was in a school, Callisto Prep. But that was all she knew.
She might be on a different continent. She could not know. Almost each of these adults had different accents. The only English one being Professor Quinn.
She concedes.
"This is magic. Isn't it?"
Everyone stops talking. She had not realized they had started talking. They were chattering away while she was panicking right in front of them. Trying to piece her life back together right in front of them. She hated them.
She hated herself more. Hated the tears that ran down her cheeks. Hated the stares they caused. The cautious and shocked gazes on her. Almost as if they didn't expect her to possess the ability to cry.
They think they have her figured out. They hardly knew her.
They knew her last name. Knew her real last name when she didn't. Knew her parents were monsters that never really loved her. Perhaps they knew more about her than she knew about herself.
"My dear child, yes. This is indeed magic." Professor Ecko's voice came. It soothed Mercy slightly. She had been the kindest to Mercy. Had tried to speak to her courteously in the alley. Had scolded Westwood for hurting her.
"Its real, this is all real." Mercy sobbed. She could not handle this anymore. Could not hold back. "This is a school for kids to learn magic." She nods at Mercy and comes to sit beside her. Putting her arm behind Mercy and clutching her shoulder.
"You all teach here. You all teach magic." They confirm her statement with a gesture. "You call me another name. I asked you to elaborate." She looks to Professor Lumero. "You took my blood and showed me the imagery of that woman. Of those two women." His hand holding the wand twitches. Yes, it is a wand. She accepts the term. "We're either of them, my real mother?"
"Can't you tell by the eyes?" Professor Quinn finally spoke.
"My eyes?" Mercy croaks out. Her throat was slicing in pain now. The crying had worsened its condition. Mercy had always loved Mercy's eyes. Stated, they were her best feature. Called them captivating and perfect. Mercy had grown to love them. They were the only thing she had confidence about now. That confidence was crumbling.
"Just tell me. We're either of those girls, my mother?" The plead sounded more commanding than she intended.
"I did not personally know your grandparents. Your mother, the young girl, yes. The only ones in this room that did know your grandparents are Lumero and Ecko." She sighs and looks away from Mercy. To Lumero, to Ecko. To anyone else to elaborate, to answer. He wants nothing to do with Mercy. He does not even want to look at her. Was it her eyes? No one speaks. He groans out and continues.
"Your mother was the younger girl you saw. She was young because that was the last time Professor Lumero saw her. She was kicked out of this school after cursing several students. That girl you saw was the first girl she had ever been caught blinding." He took a step towards Mercy. The hand on her should tightened its grip. Mercy recoiled into it. Professor Quinn's tone was turning venomous. "Your mother had been hidden like you, only not as well. Her parents, your grandparents that you saw earlier in the reel, had her and gave her to a cousin to raise. We gave her a chance, thought it unfair to judge her based on her lineage. We should have known better."
Mercy lost her breath. What was he saying?
"Your grandparents were a different story. As you saw, they liked to kill more than curse. It was romantic for them. They fell in love after both had captured Lumero's parents and killed them after weeks of torture." Mercy flinched and look to Professor Lumero. He averted his eyes. Her heart sank. "We thought your mother might be different. Hoped she would be. We were wrong. She had targeted my wife and I her first year here. Since then we had tried to collect evidence that she was behind all the curses. We caught her that day she blinded Susan Oast." That must have been the girl that screamed. She screamed because she could no longer see. "That was not the worst sin she committed. I can tell you that much." Another step. Professor Ecko kept her hand steady on Mercy. She didn't stop him. She wanted Mercy to hear every word.
"Your mother was the product of the most evil witch and most vindictive wizard to ever come out of Callisto Prep. They were all murders. Ones that saw it as sport." He bent down to her level to say his last words. "Your grandparents were vicious beast. They killed my grandparents and left my father an orphan. They took so many of our relatives' lives. Killed so many students in the last war. They tore down the grounds and nearly took down the castle. Their daughter was no better, and now I'm thinking neither are you."
Mercy doesn't breathe. She doesn't move. He stands straight and turns. Storming out of the room. The doors opening and closing for his exit.
Everyone else just looks at Mercy. Eyes of pity and suspicion. Professor Ecko tries to apologize for his behavior. Mercy only picks up words and snippets. Drowning everything out once more. Trying to detach from reality again.
The words she catches are: sensitive, old wounds, family, loss, suffering, and sorry. She says sorry more than once. Her voice was sincere. That much, Mercy knew.
Was she meant to just accept all this? Accept that her family were a bunch of sadistic and bloodthirsty murderers. That they tortured and killed innocent people. She didn't know if they were innocent. She knew nothing of these people. For all she knew, they could be the evil ones. She could be in danger. But the warm hand on her shoulder was telling her otherwise.
It was telling her that her grandmother and grandfather were killers. That they hid their daughter who also became a killer? Mercy had no clue. Quinn had only stated that she had been caught. Not what happened to her? They were evil. Were they evil enough to scar an innocent baby? To mark her and leave her dying on the cold wet cement. Had that story even been true? Had her parents really found her like that? Had they done that to her themselves?
Claws, those claws from that monster, flash in the back of her eyes. Would they be able to cut so precisely? This was too much. Too fucking much. Mercy could not handle any of it. She had stopped crying. Her shields were up, but they seemed different. No, this wasn't a shield. It was a mask. A mask of pure rage. She was pissed. Beyond pissed.
At herself. Her pretend family. At the lies. At Professor Quinn. At her birth mother. Her grandparents for the torment they caused. For the torment they have caused her.