I was burning.

Somewhere between my terrified, excruciating shrieks, I could hear Cookie barking frantically in the background. The front of my shirt was immersed in flames, as they rapidly made their way towards my skin.

Sizzling, burning pain.

I threw myself on the ground, and began to roll around. Frantic to stop the fire. Frantic to make the pain stop. However, it seemed as if the more I moved, the more the fire danced around my body. Only a few seconds had passed since it started, but it felt like hours had gone by before it suddenly died down.

Cookie was still barking, running in circles around me. I forced myself to stop the uptight beating of my heart, the tears refusing to drip down my face.

“Never steal my food again.”

Slowly, I lifted my head in the direction of the voice who had spoken aloud. One of her hands was still raised above her waist, as the flames harmlessly encircled her arm. A pleased smirk lingered upon her countenance. Glowing red aura enveloped her frame, her shoulder-length, black hair billowing like curtains around her.

My older sister, Rhea.

Rhea walked up to me and snatched the front of my hair. “Did you hear me, dumbass?” she said, forcing me to look at a face no word in the Dictionary could describe how much I detested, “You better not steal my food again. Otherwise, I’ll really burn you alive.”

After ensuring her message had come through, Rhea let go of me and I crumbled onto the dirt below. Almost immediately, Cookie’s short legs brought her trotting towards me, and she began to sniff my white hair, whining desperately.

Of course, Rhea had to come and confront me when all the servants in the house were busy. Too busy to look after us.

Our parents had been gone on some business vacation for a while, though they had left a very strict order for the servants to follow:

“Do not let Jude eat or drink anything. He will be fasting until we return.”

After being denied food or water for two days, I was close to passing out. The mansion we lived in was huge, and was full of food and water. If I so much as glanced at the pile of meals and drinks surrounding me, I would face a penalty almost as agonizing as being burned by my own sister.

The residents of the mansion wouldn’t even let me brush my teeth or wash myself, fearing that I would succumb to my thirst and drink the dirty tap water.

That was how much of an influence my parents had over them. I believe money was part of the bigger issue.

Money and fear.

Cookie yipped, her tail dropping behind her. It hurt me even more to see my dog worrying about me. Made me remember how pathetic and weak I was in the eyes of many people. How stupid and useless Rhea thought I was.

I may have been seven years old, five years her junior, but I knew better than to let her believe she could do whatever she wanted to me. Especially when our parents were not around.

As she turned her back on me to return to the mansion, I muttered a quick spell under my breath, so faint no one could possibly discern it. Suddenly, a ball of electricity crackled around my hand.

Rhea whipped around, upon hearing the noise, but it was too late. I aimed directly at her and a deafening shock of purple lightning sent her blasting against a tree. Her back knocked against the bark, and she fell flat on her face.

As my hair ceased flowing, the aura around me diminishing, I waited for her to get back to her feet and fight back. Waited for us to brawl over the food I had stolen from her unlimited stash, once again.

She had a whole supply of sweets and snacks under her bed, and she’d usually catch me desperately stuffing my face, in her room. Since Mom and Dad regularly punished me because I was such a bad kid, I would be put on a long fast, in order to cleanse my rotten soul and turn me into a better sorcerer.

After all, I had heard them talk about it. Whenever Mom and Dad’s friends come around, they whisper about me.

“Jude Malakai?” one of them had said during a party I had not been allowed to attend, “Isn’t he the little boy who sacrificed a whole mob of cats for a bar of chocolate?”

“You mean that crazy kid who lit a match against a house, causing it to erupt into flames?” somebody else had replied, “Good thing the family had been away, otherwise, who knows what would have happened to them.”

And on and on they went. Whispering amongst themselves about me, whispering about how mentally challenged and disruptive children like me should stay locked up. All while I had remained hidden underneath the table.

It was a convenient hiding place because one, the table contained lots of food who could eventually fill my empty stomach, and two, it was a perfect place to hide from Rhea.

From a distance, I had peeked under the floor-length tablecloth to peek at the party members. Rhea was among them, of course. My parents would never miss an opportunity to show off their perfect, intelligent daughter.

She had been laughing and charming all the adults around her. They all thought she was so kind, bright and beautiful. Everyone thought she was an angel.

Only I knew the truth. Only I knew what a manipulative bitch she was.

While the people had continued to gush over Rhea’s athletic successes, her high honors and her nominations, I rapidly snatched a muffin off the table, and shoved it inside my mouth. I’d swallowed it whole, almost choking in the process. The taste of the pastry was exhilarating.

I had tried to sneak some more food off the table, but a shout made me stop in action.

“Mom!” I heard Rhea say from afar, “I think a certain someone is hiding under the table.”

That night, after all the high-class sorcerers and elites had gone home, I had received several lashes. An embarrassment was what they called me. Talking about how I could not even pay heed to one simple request, and how I had to ruin their fancy party with my ghastly presence. Naturally, no tears had escaped during my punishment.

Seeing Rhea’s smiling face from the corner, watching me as I received my correction, only hardened my heart. My determination.

My determination to kill her.

My thoughts about the past muddled away, as I approached her unmoving body. Cookie pranced after me, as she usually did, her tail wagging animatedly around her. Obviously, I could not understand her language, but I knew she liked me just as much as I liked her. Plus, she was a pretty smart dog. She could tell Rhea was bad news.

“Cookie,” I whispered, excitement creeping into my tone, “I think I did it. I think she’s dead.”

Cookie barked in response, sniffing Rhea’s head.

Suddenly, I heard a shout from behind me. Oh, no.

They had returned.

My parents came running forward, a horrified look on their faces. Before I even had the chance to say anything, Dad smacked me across the face. I reeled backwards, stunned from the blow. No “hello.” No “how are you.” Merely a slap. A simple, typical way to greet his son.

“You bloody devil!” he shouted angrily, “You attacked your sister again?”

Mom shot me a venomous look, while she casted some healing spells on Rhea. Rhea awoke, in a daze anyone would believe was genuine.

“What happened, sweetie?” Mom asked her.

Rhea’s body shook and she began to cry. “It was Jude, Mom!” she sobbed, “We were only messing around and then he hurt me!”

Dad cursed aloud and all three of them returned to the house. They did not even bother to acknowledge my presence. They did not even bother to tell me I would be fasting for an even longer time, because I was corrupted. Insane.

Crazy to attack my innocent sister.

I already knew. We’ve been through this before, on multiple occasions.

I was nothing to them. Unwanted. Unloved.

Besides, no matter what I said, they would never believe me. In spite of everything, Rhea was an amazing actress, and an even more amazing child. Plus, whenever she hurt me, she would do so in a way that never showed any of my bruises. Most of the time, she would strike me in places where my parents had previously hit me.

Evening clouded the sky, and my stomach gargled, demanding more than just a few almonds. It was time for supper, though I knew better than to follow them. Knew better than to sleep in the house for several days.

Sighing, I went in the opposite direction, Cookie following my every step. We stopped in front of my favorite place: a flower field.

I did not believe anything was as resplendent as the garden of flowers, located behind the house. A single, lonesome tree stood in the middle, leaves billowing delicately across the breeze.

Alone, the tree stood, broken and ragged, in the midst of thousands upon thousands of beautiful flowers.

In a way, that tree reminded me of myself.

I sat down, my back facing it. Cookie curled into a tiny ball on my lap.

“It’s just you and me, girl,” I said quietly, running my hand through her golden fur, “Just you and me.”