CHAPTER TWO: Breann’s writing

I had barely heard them, and as I looked at my hands; they were shaking, and clammy. My brain tried its best to figure out who the boy was, and how he knew about my brother. I had absolutely no idea who he was, no matter how much I tried to remember. Maybe we had a class together or saw each other at a grocery store one day. Suddenly, my thoughts were cut off, and I was back into reality.

“Alexandra Moonstone, are you ignoring me?” My adoptive mother said loudly, and I shook my head rapidly.
“No, I just had a bad dream. Is there a reason you’re standing at my bedside, yelling at me?” I said, and then looked at the clock, quickly finding out why they were so angry at me. It was 6:15 am; I had already managed to make myself late, on the first day of school.

“Oh. Well, you do realize you’re going to have to drive me now right? There is no way that I’m going to get ready in 15 minutes.”

I glared at my adoptive mother and father; staring at them in absent anger had become a self-learned habit of mine. It didn’t matter if they actually angered me or not, I still held a grudge over my parents, ever since they had let my older brother, Owen Moonstone, move here, to West Virginia when he was only 16. California, where I used to live, is a state known for Witch hunters, our worst enemy.

The school that I went to, Campbell Hall, mostly contained the dangerous assassins. Consequently, my brother Owen was the only friend that I had, even though most days consisted of me trying to figure out how I would survive the rest of my High School days without him, due to him being three years older than me. Most Witch hunter families that reside in California were trained and bred since birth to kill us. No magic-wielding creature alive today understand why, although some assume that the first Witch hunter was hurt by a Witch, or one of their relatives were.

Ava, my mother, was now standing crookedly, one hand on her hip, as she threw a threatening look my way. The cockiness that had slipped out of my mouth clearly angering her even more.
“First, young lady, you will not speak to me in that tone. Two, you will get dressed now, and you better hurry to do so, because you’re already down to 12 minutes until you have to be at the bus stop.” Ava hated it when I talked back, and this was no exception.