*This is under my folder titled “Witch’s Wonder, Hell’s Hate”. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33[2]”. Enjoy!*

I walk over to Prince Joseph, trying to ignore how his brown eyes are somehow sparkling in the foggy white light of Hell, how his raised dark fingers look so soft, so inviting…

Yes, he’s handsome, but why is my heart racing so much? I should really calm down. We’ve been with each other for I don’t know how long. A few minutes? A few hours? It’s really sweet of him that he volunteered to come with me, that he’s helped me with my magic and that he sucked away my blood when the clown monster wounded me, but again, I can’t be thinking about him when there is so much at stake, when-

“You must be really determined, because you keep throwing yourself into the line of fire. I feel like there’s still more we need to go over for your powers, because what if you get hurt so badly that you can’t be healed? What if-Well, I just want to make sure that you’ll be okay, that’s all.” Prince Joseph says.

He looks a little nervous as he sucks up the blood wounds on my arm. Why? Is he worried about me? He shouldn’t be, because I’ll do what I can for myself. Also, it just feels a little weird that somebody else is concerned for me, like I somehow feel a little bad that he’s worried, like I’m inconveniencing him. I know that’s not the case, but that’s how I feel and I don’t know why.

“I have to be prepared to do what I can to protect those that I love, even if it hurts me. Wouldn’t you know something about that? You must have had to make difficult decisions in your position.” I say, because wouldn’t he know a thing or two about choices?

Prince Joseph’s lips leave my arm, then move onto my left one. I can see Michelle watching us, confusion scrawled on her face. I’m going to have to explain to her that he’s a vampire, but she’s already found a portal to Hell and she’s little, so it will probably be easier to tell her.

Yet still, all of this feels so strange and surreal…and Prince Joseph looks like my question seriously wounded him, like he’s just about to cry. I thought that it would be a reasonable thing to ask him but now I’m starting to feel bad for even saying anything. That shred of guilt keeps getting bigger and bigger, but why? Why is that miserable look in his eyes enough to get me all scared? Wasn’t that a good question? Why-

“I don’t really have any power with ruling. I just have a title. My Mom is the one who has the most power, but Anastasia, do you still not trust me? I guess it’s fair, but it still hurts a little.” Prince Joseph says.

He speaks in between sucking my blood, looking at me as though he feels abandoned, like no matter what he says, no one will understand. It’s the kind of look I’ve seen in my own reflection on the mirror in my room if I’ve ever thought about talking to Dad about Mom, the kind of expression that’s worn on my face when I feel so trapped within myself.

All of this negativity certainly sucks.

“It’s just not very easy to trust you. I still don’t know much about you, you could still turn on me if-you know what, I’ll stop talking now.” I say.

Because he hasn’t stopped giving me that look and now I’m starting to feel like my judgement of him is unfair. Goodness, I think I might be seeing the vampire as a human. I’ve never imagined this would happen to me, but I can feel this warmth blooming inside of me like a flower on a bright summer’s day and it feels so wonderful, so perfect, so right, but I still don’t understand.

“I get it, though. I’ve lived in a palace all by myself, with no friends, only stories about me and occasionally, I’d visit. I just think that it’s wonderful, how you care so much about your friends. It’s something that I can only ever dream of feeling. I’ll just do your neck now and the bleeding will stop.”

He’s stopped the bleeding on my arms and he’s now sucking the blood on my neck, but is my chest going to bleed? What is he going to do about that? What-

Wisps of velvety purple smoke come out of his fingertips. Michelle’s eyes widen as she watches and I’m not even sure if he notices the smoke. The smoke is swirling and swaying towards the wounds on my chest, closing up the bloody scars. I wonder if since his Mom is a witch that maybe, he’s picked up some magic himself, without even realizing it.

I find myself smiling at how the smoke seems to curl so gently, so sweetly. It’s smoke and it doesn’t have any emotions, yet with Prince Joseph’s words and his act of magic, I think that perhaps, deep down, he has the desire to love boundlessly and endlessly, that maybe, like me, he fears to show himself at his most vulnerable, he’s afraid to reveal his true soul.

When he’s done sucking my blood, I wonder if what I’m feeling right now is wishful thinking or drawing conclusions, but I don’t want to keep doubting him. Not anymore.

He’s a good person, he just hides to protect his feelings. That’s all there is to it.

……………………………………………………………….

“So how did you get here, anyway? Did you follow me into the portal or did another one just open for you?” I ask Michelle as we walk through Hell, because I hope that the portal was just the one me and Joseph were using and that portals to Hell aren’t opening up in any spot in the woods. That would be dangerous and deeply disturbing.

“I already told you, Anna! I followed you! I followed you in the portal that you and Prince Joseph went into!” Michelle cries out.

Okay, yes, she did tell me that she followed me, but I just wanted to ask her just in case. I don’t like that she’s in Hell with us, but at least she’s with us. I also don’t think that she’ll get any memories that don’t belong to her, because they seem to be only happening to me. Joseph said that maybe we would both see each other’s memories because of the effects Hell had, but that just happened one time and-

The memories from the fight with Foxglove are making themselves more known, to the point where it feels like poison in my veins and I cannot just keep it to myself. It’s Joseph’s right to know just as much as it is mine. Maybe I’ll feel better if I talk about it, too.

“The witch I was fighting earlier called herself “Foxglove”. She said she was a witch of “blood and gore” and she had Michelle in her clutches, so when I was fighting her-when I was fighting her-I was put into this memory where my Mom and your Mom were in this house together, sitting on a couch in somebody’s house, talking about sacrificing somebody to Foxglove to get stronger. The thing is, it sounded they were talking about sacrificing a close friend of theirs, maybe even the person they were visiting and it just-it makes sense, because my Mom used to talk so much about how bad people would go to Hell and she’d get all hysterical about it, then she’d also talk about how sometimes friends can’t be saved and-Do you think that our Moms sacrificed their friend to Foxglove. Like, it makes sense, but…”

I’m rubbing at the faint leftover scars on my arms now. When he sucked my blood, he also bit off the tiny shreds of my peeling skin, so that I’d only have little scars. It doesn’t hurt that much, but it hurts enough to remind me of the fight’s brutality, of the fact that Foxglove will come back, and that she’s possibly linked to my Mom. I know that Mom has her secrets, but sacrificing a friend? Would she really stoop that low? I don’t want it to be true, but I can’t deny facts, either. What if it is? How will I face it?

“That may very well be the case, but listen, don’t stress too much about it. I can see you’re scared, that you’re shaken, but worrying like this won’t help you, especially when you’re picking at your skin. This isn’t going to be easy for both of us, we’ll probably have this haunting our minds for some time, but we have to stay as calm as we can for Hell. And Anastasia, do you want me to heal your scars? I didn’t heal the scars properly and I was wondering if-“

“It’s fine. I’ll just try to heal myself with my magic.” I say.

No, I haven’t tried to heal myself before, but I want to try. Also, I don’t know how Joseph thought he’d heal me if he doesn’t seem to know about his own magic. Or maybe he does? Or vampires have their own healing powers that I don’t know about?

Whatever, I don’t need to think about why or how Joseph would heal me. I only try to reach deep, deep inside of myself and think of closing up those ghastly wounds for good, to make sure that my skin isn’t hanging by threads. I think of making everything heal, of making it all stitched together again. I can see that Michelle is watching with awe, Joseph watches nervously, but the scars are closing up, I’m starting to not see bone, and…and…what is that?

It sounds like there’s a boy calling out Leslie’s name, but how can that be possible if only the three of us know Leslie? Unless somebody else knows who she is. But she didn’t really leave my house before all of this, so how-

“I’m not the only one hearing that boy call out for Leslie, right?” Joseph asks.

“Yes, I hear him too! Who is he?” Michelle cries out in agreement, her brows furrowed in confusion.

I just have to heal this one other scar on my neck and then I’ll try to follow the voice, because if this boy is a threat to Leslie, then me and Joseph will have to fight him so that he doesn’t hurt her-that is, if he is a boy and not a demon masquerading as one.

Oh, I hope he’s just a boy. I’ve had enough of demons right now.