There are some things in this world that are universal. One of those things is mean girls, queen bees, plastic barbies. A staple in every high school ever. You know the ones, inflated ego, unfairly pretty, with the charm of a succubus. But there is one group you’ve never heard of, a legend among mean girl groups. These girls were known as the Witches, with a capital W.

Their origin starts in tragedy, but then again don’t they always? Well for Quinn Hillcast this rang true. Quinn is a girl full of secrets and stories, many tragic tales with her name written on them. She has so many stories she could write seven books filled with them, hundreds of pages each, and still have more stories to tell.

Everyone’s a victim in their own story, but some say Quinn tries too hard. Others say she is cursed. Why can’t it be both? So what kind of person is Quinn?

Well, she’s a girl with a hard edge to her. Someone who bites back and never forgets a face. She has a dark past and an even darker sense of humor. She wears her misfortune on her sleeve like it's somehow earning her the title of badass, and maybe it does. Some say it’s because she likes the attention, that she feeds off of the whispered rumors and tales as if it was her source of energy.

She isn’t like the rest of the girls in the group, you could easily pick her out of a lineup. She has long black hair that falls to her midback. Side bangs that occasionally hide her left eye, but more often than not being pushed to the side and out of her face. Crystal blue eyes that pierce right through you. Extremely pale skin, almost as if she were undead.

Her style is iconic. Copy cats can never pull it off like her. Black jeans with holes that are covered in multi-patterned patches. A pair of black chucks which she always wears with strange socks. Sometimes the socks are striped, sometimes they have cute animals on them, one time they had bells on them that would chime every time she took a step. She’s a crop top kind of girl, always showing off her toned midriff and flat stomach. To finish off her look she always has some type of cover-up, be it a raggy flannel, a leather jacket, a cardigan, once she even wore a silk robe.

Her makeup changes depending on her mood of the morning. Sometimes it’s a muted natural look, other times its black lipstick and flashy colored eyeshadow. Once she came to school with her face painted completely white like a mime and didn’t speak a word the whole day.

Quinn wasn’t always the ring leader, in fact, two years ago, where this origin begins Quinn was the weird new girl. A prime target for the then leader Stratus Belview.

Stratus is what you think of when you hear the words mean girl. She makes everyone pronounce her full name and absolutely detest nicknames. People have tried to make her name sound more common like by calling her Atta, or something cute like star. Let’s just say those people now have horrible nicknames of their own.

She has strawberry blond hair to match with her perfect sea green eyes. Her skin is always evenly tan just as her lips are always perfectly glossed. She wears tight jeans to show off her round little ass and low-cut shirts to show off her cleavage. There is this look about her, a face that says she eats geeks for breakfast. People clear out of her path when she walks by just to try and bypass her judgmental gaze.

It started as a joke, a simple “harmless” prank. The intended punch line, Quinn. Stratus had a clear plan, scare the freaky new girl. She wanted to scare and embarrass her because that is just the kind of person Stratus is. She gets kicks out of it.

Quinn walked in on her first day without a care in the world. An edgy look to her and a face that said talk to me and I’ll probably kill you. Instantly Stratus knew she wanted to get her clammy clutches on her.

The two locked eyes as Quinn walked in, and it was like an explosion went off. Everyone thought they would be instant enemies. Complete opposites in every sense. Everyone knew Stratus was going to try something after all she had a reputation to uphold as the resident queen bee.

After school that day Stratus went alone to a Wicca shop and bought a candle. She didn’t believe in any of that stuff, it was for pure kicks. The older woman who sold her the candle gave her a knowing look before recommending it with a creepy toothless smile.

The candle in question came with instructions. Light the candle, if the flame burns like normal you are fine. If the flame instantly goes out, then there is a real witch in your immediate vicinity. In such instances in which a witch was present, the candle would explode and mark them by burning their skin exposing their witches mark for all to see.

This is how they earned the title Witches.

The next day Stratus went right up to Quinn and invited her to hang out with her, and her then group of best friends after school. Quinn isn’t stupid, she knew something was up from the get-go but that didn’t stop her from agreeing to go.

Everyone traveled to the abandoned barn on the Monroe property, each in a giggling fit. Except for Quinn who had maintained a straight expression the whole way there. The other girls knew the plan, and they were more afraid of getting caught on the restricted property than there actually being a chance that a witch was in their midst.

The small group of five climbed up to the loft and sat on an old pile of hay, forming a circle. Stratus pulled out a candle and placed it in the middle. They shared glances and giggled. After she explained how it would work Quinn wanted to ask her how a burned-out candle could not only explode but burn someone. The logic didn’t make sense. But before she could ask or say anything, Stratus lit the candle with a lighter.

Stratus herself had intended to blow out the candle subtly and claim that Quinn was a witch, but before she could the candle had gone out on its own.

Everyone played the blame game, accusing the other of blowing it out. Quinn was the first to fully grasp the situation. Realization slowly dawned on each girl, first Avery, then Michelle and Cassidy, Stratus was the last to believe.

Quinn watched as the fear flashed in their eyes, their giggles completely gone now. Then they all turned to look at Quinn, who still wore a neutral expression. Before a question could be asked the candle erupted into flames and exploded sending wax fireballs all over the place.

The girls had watched as the flame came to life, leaping for Stratus. She screamed and fell back. Then the flame leaped at Quinn and grabbed her by the arm, stopping her from escaping. Quinn let out a shrill cry as she was burned.

The barn was quickly consumed in flames. Every exit somehow blocked when it hadn’t been moments before. Screams of each girl rang in the ears of Stratus who was too afraid to scream.

Quinn had grabbed her off the floor by yanking her arm and forced her down the loft stairs before they completely burned and crumbled.

Michelle wasn’t so lucky.

Once the two had made it to the solid ground they ran for the door. The loft collapsed onto Cassidy and Avery behind them forever silencing their screams.

Quinn pulled and banged at the door, but it was impossibly stuck. She coughed and cried as the smoke filled her lungs. In a fit of frustration, Quinn had cried at the top of her lungs,

“Open up!”

To her and Stratus’s surprise and relief, it did. The doors burst open by some unknown force, the two girls spilling out onto the floor in a coughing fit.

Till this day no one knows who called the fire department. They had arrived shortly after, but for three of the girls, they were already too late. Quinn and Stratus were the only survivors.

For two weeks Quinn swore she could smell the stench on her. It was in her hair, on her skin, lodged deep into her pores. She took long showers twice a day, but the smell of burnt barn wood lingered. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see it, she could hear it, feel it all over. Feel the flames waltzing around on her skin, hear the screams that sang out of the dry wooden panel walls, see the smoke cascading down the staircase like a ball of yarn unfurls when rolled across the floor.

She found herself constantly gazing down at her arm. Spirals of pink sticky flesh on her right arm traveling from her wrist to her shoulder. Like the way, an ivy climbs up a tree. They twisted and twirled in an unnatural pattern, each little curl forming a perfect ring, a mark forever burned into her skin.

Everyone can still recall the day she and Stratus returned to school, Stratus had cursed her out, called her a witch, a demon from hell, Quinn had laughed in her face. Right in front of everyone. Told her she was delusional.

A rumor had spread that Stratus had rigged the candle with a small bomb. She denied everything of course, but the rumor spread so much that even the police had brought her in for formal questioning. Once she was cleared people wondered if it was possible that the candle was real.

Because if it was real, one thing was for sure, there was a witch there that day. A witch hiding within a group of young naïve teenage girls. Only two girls survived, which meant one of them had to be a witch, right? With a reminder forever burned on her arm, it didn’t take people long to label which one it was.

From that day on everyone knew Quinn as their local witch. It was an on-going gag, not that she cared. She claimed the title as if she was claiming a part of herself. She held her chin up and didn’t let it bother her one bit. She was the witch of Regal high and she was glad everyone knew it.

After the initial shock, Stratus had done everything in her power to stay far away from Quinn. She wanted nothing to do with the girl. But if there is one thing Stratus Belview can’t handle it’s being alone. With all her friend’s dead, and everyone still very much afraid of her that is where she found herself.

There was only one person more feared than her, Quinn. It started off as a natural curiosity, their friendship that is. Stratus wanted to know if witches were real and if Quinn really was one. So being the only person in the whole school not afraid of her she walked right up to her at lunch and demanded the truth.

Again, Quinn had laughed at her, again she called her crazy. But that didn’t stop Stratus from coming back day after day and demanding answers. It took three months, three months of constant bickering and nagging, but she had finally done it. She broke Quinn.

It was at lunch just like usual, she marched up and put a hand on her hip. Quinn rolled her eyes and ignored her, reading a book while eating her lunch. Without saying a word Stratus knocked the book from her hand and pushed her lunch away from her.

Quinn stood up and with a steely look in her eyes squared off against Stratus. Stratus did not back down, and the whole cafeteria got silent. Quinn smirked at her before bursting into laughter.

“I had no idea.” She finally said.

“Huh?” Stratus raised an eyebrow.

“No idea you had such big balls, can’t really tell with how tight your pants are.” She laughed.

Stratus felt her face go red from embarrassment as everyone around them burst out laughing.

“Look, you want me to prove to you I’m not a witch. Meet me by the football field after school. I’ll take you to my place, where you can see for yourself.” Quinn offered.

So, after school the two walked a couple of blocks to Quinn’s house, Quinn let her in and shut the door behind her. The house was big and mostly empty aside for the usual stuff and furniture. Stratus instantly began her investigation. She walked from room to room looking for any sign of witchcraft. She came up empty-handed every time.

When she had gotten to Quinn’s bedroom, she had found a wall of polaroids. Most of them were of Quinn and other people, some were of landscapes and animals. Quinn had an old Polaroid camera sitting on her desk as well as expensive looking digital camera. Her room was the smallest in the house only able to fit about four people comfortably. She had a lofted Twin bed and bookshelves filled to the brim underneath. Clothes and shoes littered the floor as well as a sewing kit and patches where Quinn hand sewed the unique patches on her pants. There was no ceiling fan yet that didn’t stop the room from being ice cold, even with it being warm outside as summer approached.

Stratus took the longest in that room, Quinn watching her with that ice-cold stare. Neither saying a word. Then Stratus went to the game room, then to the red room where Quinn developed all her pictures, it was actually the closest to the master bedroom, which had been turned into the game room. Lastly the garage and attic.

“Do you live alone?” Stratus finally asked as she made her way back to the living room.

“Sure do.” Quinn said.

“Where're your parents?”

“Dead.”

“Grandparents?”

“Dead.”

“Aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“Dead, dead, and dead.”

“What the hell?”

“Parents died in a car crash, grandparents died of natural causes, my only uncle died in a house fire, took my cousins too. I’m all alone. The state tried to put me in foster care, but I was able to claim my independence due to special circumstances. Though they do come by once a month to do a wellness check.” She plopped on the couch.

“How do you like pay for anything?”

“I’m loaded, got all my family inheritance and insurance money. I’m set for life.” She kicked her feet up on the coffee table.

“This is crazy. Everyone around you dies, you got marked, and you’re telling me you’re not a witch?” Stratus sat next to her.

“That is what I said. Besides everyone knows witches aren’t real.”

“Then you’re cursed.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged.

After that the two were inseparable. For the rest of that school year, they became the dynamic duo. Ruling over the school with an iron fist. They spent that whole summer together just blowing money and doing whatever they wanted.

It wasn’t long before Stratus forgot about the whole witch thing. The next year their ranks grew and grew. First befriending Harley, a girl finally transferring back from an alternative school where she was sent because she got caught with weed. Then it was Nevaeh, goody two shoes, class rep, and top of her class. The girls managed to corrupt her on to their side, and once she got a taste of them, she never went back.

A couple of months ago their ranks got even bigger as they befriended Isabella, or as she likes to be called Izzy. The new, new girl. She moved here from Hicksville and has a country accent. It wasn’t long before the girls molded her into their group. Sure, they were all vastly different from each other, but that’s also what made them all the same.

That is the origin of the Witches of Regal High.