*Mila*
Soren’s accusation rang in my head like a gong.
He took a few steps toward me, arms outstretched like he was going to hug me.
“No!” I snapped. I pushed him away and ran around the bed so he couldn’t get close to me again.
My mind raced with thoughts and images from my childhood. I grabbed the sides of my head and shook my head slowly.
“No. I’m not a witch, okay? I’m not,” I insisted, my voice calmer but no less insistent.
It was crazy for him to think that. Magic wasn’t part of my life. I mean… sometimes things just happened, but that wasn’t magic. It was just… divine intervention.
“I’m not a witch. I can’t be a witch,” I repeated to myself over and over again.
“Mila…”
Soren’s voice was soft and low.
I snapped my eyes to him and glared at him. I didn’t want him to come any closer to me.
So many memories surfaced, memories that I could hardly imagine. Were they repressed memories? Had I blocked them out?
One memory surfaced over all the others.
