The Witch Within Read Online Free Page A

he eventually take pity on me? Or am I completely foolish? If he was kind, he would not be assisting this Daniel individual in the first place, or if possible, he could have set me free already. No, he can’t be my saviour; it’s just my silly naive mind trying to hold on to an image of a male hero coming to my rescue. There is no hope for that to happen—maybe I really am cursed, like my father said. I still recall the first time he said the word “witch” to me.
    “How could you! Your own brother! How the hell could you—you witch!”
    I still can’t understand what the word “witch” really means.
    My mother used to tell us tales about evil witches that ride their magic canes and cast spells over the lands. Wild women dancing with devils every night, drinking the blood of men and waking up the dead, making them attack people they come to dislike. I used to have nightmares about such women and the word “witch” certainly sent chills down my spine. During my childhood and throughout my life, I’ve met many women, including my grandmother, who were called witches just for trying to heal an animal or a man, or for casting protective spells or prayers to assure harvest or potency.
    I once saw a woman, one of those so-called witches, being stoned to death on the main square and since then I have had nightmares, not about the witches from the tales, but about the people who created those tales. I have been trying to forget the incident, erase it from my memory once and for all, so that it does not come back to haunt me, but for some reason such memories hold on to one’s soul stronger than the pleasant ones.
     
    *
     
    I keep on walking, but my legs are growing weaker. The awful headache, the urge to urinate and the overall weariness keep turning on the wheel of my misfortune, making it impossible for me to decide which one is worse. Is it my lot to suffer so much? Is it ever going to stop? Do I really have to leave this world? Is that the only way to finally end it? Or am I destined to an endless hell? Headache stronger, urge to urinate becoming impossible to bear, the fatigue is inescapable. Is there anything, at least one part of the suffering that I could relieve myself of? At least one part of the suffering? Yes, there is. I squat down and start peeing, not worried about my dress getting wet; at least it's wide enough and long enough so that I'm completely covered. I don’t care if I receive another slap or kick, part of the pain simply has to stop. Daniel roars at me:
    “Learn to walk, scum!”
    He is quiet for a while as he has probably figured out what I'm doing. Normally, I would be embarrassed, but I don’t care about being a chaste girl at the moment. All I feel is a bit of relief and it is worth the shame.
    “Come on, how long do you have to take? You disgust me!”
    He drags me up before I can properly finish. Never mind, I'm already dirty and stinky anyway. I haven't found a river, stream or a pond to bathe in since I stepped into these woods.
     
    *
     
    In the night they tie me to a tree near a river. I can hear the water crashing soporifically over the rocks, finding its way to keep flowing. How I wish I was the river, peacefully devoted to its destiny, free in its natural path. The sound makes me slightly calmer. Water always had that effect on me. It’s as if it has the power to wash away all my worries.
    My captors have made a fire and after some bustle that has passed, I hear them chewing and drinking. I do feel thirsty and hungry, but my throat is stuck in the drought and my stomach sick from emptiness. I hear footsteps. Someone is approaching me.
    “I bet you're thirsty?”
    Could it be that Daniel is the one to show me kindness this time? No. He pours the cool stream water over my limp head, making me shiver even more. He laughs at me when he notices that I'm trying to swallow at least the drops that have reached my lips, to ease the dryness. I can sense that the quiet one is watching