Chapter 5: The Witch Becomes Councilwoman

“Hehe, you’re here…”

Savannah panicked, waving her arms in front of her chest, smashing chairs, her screams chilling. Mr. Dalton cowered behind her, and there was a strange smell—he’d wet himself. Gross.

Savannah’s screams were animal, raw. She knocked over the lamp, glass shattering. Mr. Dalton whimpered, his pants dark with fear. The whole scene was chaos, pure and simple. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

She knelt before Mariah, crying and snotty, banging her head and slapping her own face. Her former arrogance was gone. She just begged Mariah to spare her life.

Savannah’s pleas were pitiful, her words tumbling over each other. Her mascara ran in black rivers down her cheeks. She clawed at Mariah’s feet, desperate for mercy. I watched coldly, satisfaction rising in my heart.

Serves her right, she deserved it!

For the first time, I felt a twisted sense of justice. All those years of torment, finally turning back on her. Ha.

All of them deserved to die! Last night, when Savannah glared at me, I really was standing behind her. But she was a ticking time bomb—I couldn’t stay too close. If danger came, I’d be the scapegoat. So while everyone was in chaos, I moved next to Mr. Dalton, watching as Mariah was pushed out by Savannah. It was so dark, no one noticed I’d changed positions.

Even in the chaos, I kept my wits about me. Survival was a game, and I’d learned to play it well. Never let your guard down.

Now Mariah’s ghost had returned at midnight, and the two of them were like fighting dogs! Savannah, you never thought you’d see this day.

The tables had turned, and for once, I was safe behind the storm.

Mr. Dalton kept backing away, abandoning Savannah and running for the door. Mariah blocked him in a flash. He was scared out of his mind now.

He clawed at the door, but Mariah was faster. His screams were high and thin, echoing down the hall. I almost smiled.

I sneered and snapped my fingers. Mariah lowered her head and obediently left, the room falling silent again. As if she’d never been there. The only difference was that Savannah had gone insane.

The silence was eerie, broken only by Savannah’s ragged breathing. The air felt lighter, but the damage was done. I almost pitied her. Almost.

In the middle of the night, she held her face, crying and laughing at her reflection. She picked up a shard of broken mirror and sliced her face over and over. Blood dripped from her wounds onto her legs, but she didn’t notice. She even hugged the shattered mirror and asked me if she looked good. Beautiful, of course you’re beautiful.

“If you cut a few more times, you’ll be even prettier.”

Her laughter was wild, hysterical. The sight of her bloodied face should have horrified me, but I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. She twirled in front of the mirror, lost in her madness. I hoped she’d never come back from it.

Savannah giggled, her hand never stopping, her face a bloody mess. She stood by the door, grinning at me with a haunted smile. That smile was too dazzling. I wished she’d disappear for good.

Her eyes glowed in the darkness, her smile wide and empty. I pulled the blanket over my head, wishing the night would swallow her whole.

With a thought, she clutched her stomach and wailed on the ground, shrill as a banshee.

“Laney, what’s wrong with her?” Mr. Dalton quickly distanced himself, running to my side. Even from afar, I could smell his urine, and I pinched my nose in disgust. His eyes turned fierce, cursing, “You think you’re better than me?”

“Don’t forget what you are.”

His words dripped with venom. I met his gaze, unflinching. The tables had finally turned. For once, I wasn’t the one cowering.

The next second, he stripped off his shirt, grinning as he lunged at me.

The room spun, his face twisted with hate. I braced myself, ready for the worst. Not this time.

The man in front of me overlapped with my memories, and in that moment, all the humiliation I’d suffered over the years surged up. I had to make him taste a fate worse than death.

My rage boiled over, hot and sharp. I whispered words I barely understood, letting the power surge through me. The energy crackled through my veins, wild and alive.

I snorted coldly. He collapsed by the bed, powerless, clutching himself and wailing. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his cries endless, fear in his eyes. It was itchy and painful—scratching the raw flesh was useless. In the end, he’d die from rotting inside.

His screams filled the room, his nails tearing at his own skin. The smell of blood and fear was overwhelming. I watched, unmoved. He deserved every second.

“What did you do to me?!”

I slapped his face with my shoe, saying, “Since you had the guts to abduct me from the hills, you should have known this day would come.”

That’s right, I’m a witch.

Once someone has crossed a witch from Maple Hollow, she has the power to control their fate. And Mr. Dalton once forced himself on me. He treated me like a dog to vent his anger.

The truth tasted bitter, but I let it spill. I was done hiding, done being afraid. No more secrets.

That day I went to the office to deliver drawing boards, and accidentally overheard Savannah talking to him. He said I was a tool bought for venting. That’s when I understood—my mom wanting me to leave the hills was all a lie. He was deceiving me. For all the suffering I endured, they had to pay the price!

I remembered every slight, every bruise, every night I cried myself to sleep. The time for payback had finally come. No more mercy.

That sausage was made from years-old rotten meat, which could confuse people’s minds. The cornbread, made from autumn leaves and witch’s herbs, allowed the curse to quickly enter the body. With the witch’s control, it could be triggered at any time.

The food was the weapon, the curse its bullet. I felt powerful, finally in control. No one would hurt me again.

Autumn asked Mr. Dalton for a dorm transfer to avoid being bullied. For a few hundred bucks, she stabbed my face with a paintbrush. So let her experience being pierced by branches to death.

Every betrayal came back to haunt them. I’d become judge, jury, and executioner. Funny how things turn out.

Mariah always pushed my head into the sink, so let her rot with the maggots in the vat.

No more hiding, no more begging for mercy.

Savannah couldn’t die—that would be too easy. I wanted her to live in madness, tormented by pain every day.

Let her suffer, the way she made me suffer. That’s justice.

As for Mr. Dalton… Things I don’t need can just hang on the wall.

He would become a warning, a lesson carved in flesh. Let everyone see what happens when you cross a witch.

At dawn, the councilman pushed open the door. He looked at Savannah lying on the ground and the already dead Mr. Dalton, sighing.

“Child, you’ve suffered.”

His words were soft, almost kind. I flinched, not trusting the sudden gentleness. What game was he playing now?

I covered my face with my hands, memories of the past flooding in, tears streaming down. He sat beside me, visibly moved. “When you were taken, your mother was heartbroken and died from grief.”

“That day at the village entrance, I knew you’d come back.”

“I watched you grow up. How could I not recognize you!”

His voice trembled, the lines in his face deepening. I wanted to believe him, but doubt gnawed at me. Was this real?

As he spoke, his old hand gently comforted me. “But child, how did you become like this?”

His touch was warm, grounding me. I let the tears fall, too tired to pretend anymore. I was just so tired.

I looked at my bloodless body, dazed. Or rather, at my corpse. The broken mirror pieces on the ground reflected my pale face, the blood on my forehead already dried.

The realization hit me like a punch. I was dead. Had been dead, all along. The truth was a cold weight in my chest.