Chapter Text
When she opened her eyes again she saw brown. The carpet of her mother’s bedroom. Lex reached out her hand to confirm it, stroking the matted thing with a stammering hand. Her brows furrowed. She hadn’t been in this room since she was a child. What a strange place to die.
Or was she already dead? If the afterlife was the shitty trailer she grew up in then Lex guessed it must be hell. It sure smelt like it.
Doubt started to kick in after a minute of staring into the once cream carpeting. Lex pushed herself to her knees, her throat sore. It was as if accepting this dreadful fact that she was still living, surviving, kicked her senses to full alert. She almost threw up. The smell wasn’t just bad, it was all consuming.
When she was eight the Foster’s family cat died. Lex found it a week later, tucked between the trailer and a tree stump.
A month ago two dozen people died in the fire at Hatchetfield Mall. Their bodies flambed whilst Lex dragged her screaming sister into a stranger’s car.
Lex knew what death smelt like.
She rose to her feet and turned to the bed. Pamela lay over the duvet, glassy eyed. Her skin was grey.
Lex walked to her side.
“Mom?”
Her voice was shallow, raspy. She brought a hand to her neck as if it could comfort her bruised skin.
Pamela was dead.
Judging by the purple tint to her waxy skin and the smell that forced Lex’s hand to move from her throat to cover her nose, she had been for a while. The witch sent her back. Sent her back to this.
Lex couldn’t seem to stop herself from walking closer, closer to her mother’s decaying body. She stumbled. Lex forced her eyes from the body to her feet - and there, nestled in the stained carpet, was her lighter. The lighter Lex had lost a week before. She reached down and pocketed it before turning away and leaving the room. She closed the door carefully and breathed in. The air was stale and the pervasive taste of rotting meat had seeped into the hall.
It didn’t matter now. She had to find Hannah.
Lex didn’t bother checking her room, she knew her sister better than that. Pamela might smell bad to anyone but it would have made Hannah run for the hills. So instead, Lex turned down the hall to the main room. Her boots left muffled thumps in their wake. The air was thick as Lex waded through it, head thumping and ears ringing. She didn’t know how long she had. The Black would be back for her. It would never let her go now. Just like Ethan.
She went straight for the kitchenette and slid open a drawer. The high pitch clatter pierced the bubble in the room. She reached her hand in and plucked a carving knife from near the bottom. Clean, unused.
She opened the trailer door. The wind lashed at her face. It was welcoming. Starkly cold. Clean. She pulled the leather jacket closer around herself, thumbing the lighter in one pocket whilst leaving the other hand free to carry the knife.
Into Witchwood. Winter had staked its claim on the forest, frost crawling across its floor. Lex couldn’t say if it was dusk or dawn, but the light was low. It didn’t matter. She could do this in her sleep.
When she was ten, Lex ran away. She packed the closest things she knew to love and took her sister into Witchwood Forest. Took her to the hanging tree. She hadn’t truly understood what it meant then, they were only children after all. They carved their names into its base and declared it theirs. They decided they would never leave it, that Hannah could colour it yellow like their bedroom walls and Lex could collect berries from the bushes.
Then Hartley arrived and it started to rain.
He couldn’t make them go back this time.
Half-frozen leaves crunched under Lex’s feet, the Sun sat at half-mast and reflected off the knife in her hand.
“Lex?”
Hannah sat beneath the hanging tree. She wore Lex’s coat over rumpled clothes and one of her plaits had come undone.
“Hey banana, how long have you been out here?”
Lex walked closer.
“Something bad happened. Black and White. Witch. The watcher with a thousand eyes.”
Lex saw the fear in Hannah’s eyes. She hadn’t answered her question.
“Did Webby tell you that?”
Hannah nodded. Her eyes shifted down to Lex’s hands then up again, wider.
“Lexie?”
Lex knelt in front of her sister, her free hand going to Hannah’s shoulder and staying put even when the girl flinched away.
Bad things are happening, Banana. It’s not safe here for you. You’ve gotta leave, okay? Gotta go.”
Hannah watched her sister warily.
“Where are we going?”
Lex tilted her head and smiled softly.
“I can’t come with you Banana.”
Finally, Hannah resisted. She pulled herself from Lex’s grip.
“No! Not going!”
Lex closed back in.
“Hey banana, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe at last.”
Lex lifted the knife - and pressed it into Hannah’s hand. She continued, eyes not leaving her sisters’ for a second.
“You’re going to go to Clivesdale - I know, I know - but it’s the safest place. You have to leave Hatchetfield.”
Hannah held the knife with both hands, looking at it uncertainly.
“What about you,” she looked to her sister, “why can’t you come?”
“I have to go back to the Black.”
Hannah’s features froze for a moment before thawing to reveal pure panic. She dropped the knife and lurched forward to grab her sister by the shoulders, shaking her head.
“No!”
Tears streaked down Hannah’s cheeks as her voice grew shrill and eyes wide.
“Don’t go! You can’t go! Bad, Lexie, bad -”
Lex pulled her closer, tucking her sister’s head under her chin and threading her hands through Hannah’s hair.
“I have to. It’ll take me back anyway - and there’s a witch that needs my help.”
Hannah looked up at her, voice softening to defeat.
“You’ve already been.”