Bound by Midnight's Spell

Chapter 1

Elena's green eyes fluttered open to a world wrapped in confusion. Everything was so white that it hurt her eyes. The hospital room engulfed her in sterile whiteness, accompanied by the incessant beeping of machines she couldn't comprehend. Panic surged within her small frame as she attempted to sit up, but a sharp twinge in her side forced her back down onto the hospital bed. Fear gripped her heart as she scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, searching desperately for a familiar face—her parents, her anchors in this daunting place.

"Mom? Dad?" Her voice quivered, echoing in the empty room.

There was no response, only the steady rhythm of the medical equipment. Elena's throat tightened, tears welling up in her eyes as a knot of unease settled in her stomach. At only 8 years old, she was still a child, but confusion clouded her eyes as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The sterile white walls and the soft beeping of the machines seemed foreign and cold.

As her senses started to adjust, she felt a dull ache in her head, and the memories began to flood back. The rush of her parents, her mother's desperate pleas to her father to drive faster, and the last look of love and concern from her mother echoed in her mind. Her mother had told her she was a very special girl and that they loved her very, very much, with tears flowing down her face, while her father was driving the car very fast. The images played like a haunting film; each scene more vivid than the last.

Elena's small hand instinctively reached for her head, as if trying to physically hold onto the memories. The room spun for a moment, and she winced at the sharp pain that radiated from her temples. The weight of the memories pressed upon her chest, and she struggled to understand the reality that seemed to blur with the fragments of the past.

A gentle voice broke through the haze, and a nurse approached, her eyes filled with empathy. "Take it slowly, sweetheart," she said, placing a comforting hand on Elena's shoulder. "You're safe now. You're in the hospital."

Elena blinked, trying to focus on the nurse's face. "Where... where are my parents?" she stammered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

The nurse hesitated, her eyes conveying a mixture of sympathy and sadness. "Sweetheart, you were in an accident."

Elena's heart pounded in her chest, and a lump formed in her throat. The realization hit her like a tidal wave – the accident, her parents. Tears welled up in her eyes, and a deep, overwhelming sorrow settled within her.

She closed her eyes, allowing the nurse's words to sink in. Fragments of the accident replayed in her mind – the impact, the tumbling car, the chaos. Fear and confusion gripped her, but amidst the chaos, she clung to her mother's final words: "Never lose yourself. You're a very, very special girl."

She clung to the blanket, feeling lost and small in the vastness of the hospital room. The beeping machines echoed in her ears, a constant reminder of the unfamiliarity and fear that engulfed her.

Minutes stretched like endless hours until the door finally opened again, revealing a kindly-faced doctor. He wore a gentle smile, but Elena could sense the gravity of his presence.

"Hello, Elena. I'm Dr. Reynolds," he said in a calming tone, taking a seat beside her bed. "How are you feeling?"

Elena bit her lip, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "Where are my mom and dad?"

Dr. Reynolds exchanged a solemn glance with the nurse before turning back to Elena. "Elena, I'm so sorry. Your parents... you were all involved in an accident, and they... they didn't make it."

A shiver ran down Elena's spine as the doctor's words sank in. Her world shattered in an instant, tears streaming down her cheeks as grief washed over her, raw and overwhelming.

"Your aunt will be here soon, Elena," Dr. Reynolds reassured her, his voice tinged with empathy. "She'll take care of you, you are not alone."

Elena nodded weakly, the mere mention of her aunt sending shivers down her spine. She remembered the few encounters she'd had with her—a distant woman, cold and stern, someone who made her feel small and insignificant. She was always nice in appearance, but she was always mean to her and her mother when they were alone.

As the hours crawled by, anxiety clawed at Elena's chest. When the door creaked open again, Elena's heart skipped a beat. Her aunt stood there, with her uncle by her side, wearing a façade of concern that didn't quite reach her eyes. Elena swallowed hard, her body tensing with fear.

"Elena, dear, how are you feeling?" Her aunt's voice was saccharine sweet, but Elena sensed the underlying tension, the forced kindness that didn't belong.

"I... I'm okay," Elena replied softly, her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet her aunt's eyes.

Her aunt stepped closer, offering an embrace that felt more obligatory than comforting. "We're here for you, sweetheart. Everything will be alright."

Elena nodded, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon her small shoulders as she stood beside her aunt, feeling utterly alone in a room full of people.

"We'll take good care of her," her aunt assured the doctor, her tone masking the underlying sternness that Elena knew all too well.

Dr. Reynolds nodded, giving Elena a sympathetic look before stepping away, leaving her in the hands of her aunt and uncle.

Elena felt a lump form in her throat as the realization dawned upon her—she had no choice but to go with them, to leave behind the familiarity of the hospital room and face an uncertain future under her aunt's care.

She glanced at her aunt, a silent plea in her eyes, hoping against hope for a glimpse of warmth or reassurance.

Once outside, a chilly breeze ruffled Elena's hair, causing her to shiver. Her aunt wrapped an arm around her, but the gesture felt more like restraint than comfort.

"Let’s go, Elena," her aunt said, her words sounding hollow.

Elena nodded, her throat tight with unspoken fear. The car ride was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional murmurs exchanged between her aunt and uncle. Elena kept her gaze fixed outside the window, watching the world pass by in a blur of unfamiliar streets and faces.

Once they arrived, her aunt ushered her inside, "This will be your room from now on, Elena."

Elena nodded, her gaze sweeping across the small simple room that contained a small bed and a cupboard.

Alone in her new room, she longed for her parents' comforting presence, aching for the love and security they had always provided.

As the evening drew to a close, Elena lay in her bed, the events of the day replaying in her mind, as she fell asleep.

Slap!

Elena's world fractured with the slap, her aunt's hand leaving a burning mark on her cheek. Shock held her motionless, tears welling up in her eyes, not just from the searing pain but also from the violent shattering of the safe cocoon her parents had woven around her. They had raised her with love, shielding her from harshness, and this sudden act of aggression left her reeling.

Her aunt's voice, filled with anger and disdain, pierced through the air, demanding action. "Get up, Elena! Stop being so useless and lazy. You need to earn your keep around here. Start with the dishes."

Trembling, Elena rose from her bed, her hands shaking as she entered the kitchen and reached for the dish soap, trying to hide her pain behind a façade of compliance. With tear-blurred vision, she scrubbed at the dishes, her aunt's relentless tirade echoing around her.

"You can't expect everything to be handed to you. Your mother was the same—a spoiled brat, and look where it got her," her aunt continued, each word a venomous arrow aimed at Elena's fragile heart.

Elena's chest tightened at the mention of her mother. She couldn't let her aunt defile her mother's memory. "Don't talk about my mom like that!"

Before she could finish her protest, a sharp c***k reverberated in the room as her aunt's hand met her other cheek. Pain exploded across her face, stunning her and leaving her ears ringing.

"Insolent child!" her aunt spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're nothing but a burden, Elena. I won't tolerate any insolence from you. Know your place! You are lucky enough that we are here to take care of you and offer you a roof over your head."

Elena staggered backward, her cheek throbbing and hot tears blurring her vision. Bruised and broken, Elena completed the dishes, her movements mechanical, trying to hide her trembling hands and quivering lips. The sink became a silent witness to her silent tears, mingling with the soapy water as she struggled to comprehend the sudden brutality that had invaded her life.

As the afternoon sun waned, shadows crept across her room, mirroring the darkness that enveloped her spirit. She trembled, feeling small and powerless, aching for the embrace of her parents, yearning for the warmth and love that had once filled her world.

Exhausted from crying, Elena lay on her bed, her tear-stained cheeks pressed against the pillow. In the silence of her solitude, fear lingered like a haunting specter, casting shadows that danced across the walls, mimicking the shadows of her shattered innocence and broken trust.

Days stretched into a harrowing routine within the confines of her aunt's house, each one blending into the next in a pattern of terror and despair. Elena had become a target for her aunt's unfathomable anger, a receptacle for every imagined offense.

No slight was too small, no act too innocent to escape her aunt's wrath. Every day brought new accusations: she was too slow, too lazy, too clumsy, or simply not good enough. The list of insults grew, each one punctuated by a stinging slap or a harsh word that cut deeper than any physical blow.

Elena's once radiant spirit dulled, her eyes haunted by constant fear and her body marked by bruises—a silent testament to her aunt's mercilessness. Each day, she retreated further into a shell of fear, her once vibrant presence reduced to a mere shadow of itself.

Uncle George's occasional concern only amplified Elena's heartache. His puzzled inquiries about her well-being were met with her aunt's dismissive remarks. During one silent dinner, her uncle finally spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. "Iva, what happened to Elena? She seems... different lately."

Her aunt's eyes flashed with irritation before she retorted sharply, "Nothing, George. She's just a lazy girl who needs to learn discipline. I won't have a spoiled brat in this house. Her useless mother totally neglected her behavior and attitude."

His pale green eyes fixed on Elena for a moment, a flicker of sympathy passing through them before he grunted in response and resumed his dinner.

A few days later, her uncle's suggestion of sending her to school was a glimmer of hope, a fleeting chance for escape. But her aunt's vehement refusal shattered any remnants of that hope.

“We have no money to waste on someone so weak, especially as we have our dear Peter already in school. If we save enough, maybe we can enroll him in the Draconarium academy in the coming years.” Her aunt replied sharply.

Elena's heart ached with a bittersweet longing whenever thoughts of her cousin, Peter, crept into her mind and the freedom he had. She had never met him, but his name carried a peculiar weight in the house—a weight that brought an unexpected shift in her aunt's stern demeanor.

In the rare moments when her aunt mentioned Peter, a fleeting glimmer of warmth softened her features, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was a stark contrast to the coldness that usually shrouded her aunt's face. Elena couldn't help but envy the mystery surrounding Peter, the cousin who seemed to hold the power to soften her aunt's unyielding demeanor.

But the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, each one carrying the weight of despair and aching solitude. Elena's once vivid imagination now painted a bleak picture of her future—trapped in a cycle of torment, her spirit crushed under the weight of her aunt's relentless anger.

As time passed, the bruises on Elena's body became more pronounced, visible marks of her silent suffering. Yet, the scars that ran deeper were the ones etched into her soul—the wounds inflicted by her aunt's harsh words and callous actions.