𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄 | 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

🌹 The Uncharmed Child [I]

Author's Note: Dated "January 2, 2010", this short story came from a serial of multi-fandom crossover fanfiction stories that my sister and I wrote when we were younger. They all involved our two main characters we had each created and their adventures. My own character, Vicky, (whose faceclaim was Vanessa Hudgens) was originally the daughter of Severus Snape from Harry Potter and Nani Pelekai from Lilo & Stitch, was a younger half-sister of Spencer Shay from iCarly, was the goddaughter of Rubeus Hagrid also from Harry Potter and went to the Pacific Coast Academy boarding school from Zoey 101. And along the way, she befriended (and dated) numerous characters from other fictional movies, books, + TV series. Obviously, I can't use any of that now LOL So I decided to re-write this piece I had found in an old notebook, excluding the character my sister created since she refused to let me include hers. On a side note, Vicky was the prototype for a later character I wrote, Parker Martinez from the Hearts series (Dean Winchester fics). Lastly, "the Uncharmed' name for the non-magic people is my own creation. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it all the same <3

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There was a time when I believed my entire life was perfect. But I was a child then, simply Victoria Makana "Vicky" Shay Sheridan - I didn't know the horrors of what life could offer. I didn't know of such vile atrocities a person could inflict on another.

My parents and I lived in a two-story house right by the beach in my hometown of Kauai, Hawaii. In truth, my parents were starkly different from each other - different backgrounds, different races, etc. We were a bit of an anomaly, to be fair. My dad was pale white with hair as black as a raven's wing and eyes the color of charcoal. Not to mention a hot temper that flared up on occasion. My mother, on the other hand, was his polar opposite. She had an olive complexion with wavy chocolate brown hair and baby blue eyes, always with a kind disposition. She was 20 years his junior but they fell in love despite the age gap. Who knew that it would last a mere six years?

It was a week before my fifth birthday when my oh-so-perfect life turned on its head. I remember it still to this day - twelve years later - so very vividly. I had been so excited. My mother had promised me a large cake with light blue frosting and 'Happy Birthday' written in fancy gold lettering. But this perfect birthday was not to be.

One morning, I woke up but not in my own bed...no, instead I woke up in a padded white room with the smell of disinfectant and the tang of a chemical I couldn't quite place. My heart raced and wide-eyed, I turned my head to glance at two men in black robes who stood nearby. My dad stood among them, watching their every move as they began to poke and prod me. They tested me, demanding answers to questions that I couldn't understand. It was insulting, the way they would talk to me. I hadn't done anything wrong - none of it made sense.

After the tests were over and the men exited the room in clear disgust, I chanced a glance over at my father. He wore a stormy expression, clearly disappointed and in shock. Opening the door wordlessly, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along behind him. When we finally arrived at home by a strange rapid means of transportation that alluded me (it was like being stretched apart one moment and the next, we were standing outside our house), my mother was there waiting for us. Running into her arms with childish sobs, I divulged all that had occurred. She just held me there, shushing me gently as she reassured me that everything would be fine. When my tears had subsided, not unkindly she ordered me to go upstairs to my room. I did as she bid me, relieved that the nightmare was over.

Sequestered in the safety of my bedroom, I could just make out the angered voices downstairs.

"Oh, please, Jarek, you only ever cared about the magic our daughter might possess. Not her. Not ever her," my mother, Nani Sheridan, shouted at him.

Jarek spat a derisive snort in reply, "It doesn't matter, she's powerless anyway,"

Silence reigned downstairs for a beat before my mother spoke up in a small voice, asking a question I thought she would never ask of him.

"Did you even ever care about me? Just some human woman you met once upon a time?"

His answer was immediate and left no room for discussion, "You know I love you, Nani. I always have and always will but..."

My father hesitated then, as if unsure how my mother would react to what he was about to say.

Finally, he dropped the bombshell that would forever change the course of my life, "I think...I think we should try again, Nani. Let's have another child - perhaps this one will show signs of magic where Vicky has not,"

Although I could not see her face, I could tell my mother was livid just from her tone alone, "How could you even suggest such a thing?! Don't you love your own daughter, Jarek? She's your own blood! You'd just as soon replace her as to love her when there could be the slightest possibility of having another child - perhaps this one a son - who would possess magic like yourself?"

His resounding 'YES!' reverberated through the house and I felt tears prick my eyes as I curled deeper into my Toy Story blanket. Daddy...didn't love me?

Mom's voice was like shards of glass, so sharp you could cut yourself on them if you didn't respond carefully, "Just tell me this, Jarek: are you working for him again?"

The "him" was unknown to me, an entity I had heard of mentioned on several occasions under guise of whispered conversations but never an actual name.

"...Yes. And it's for the better, Nani. He can show us a way out of this isolated world that the Uncharmed have imprisoned us in-"

"Am I in that group, too, Jarek?" Nani's voice was like ice as she spat the words.

Everything happened in such a blur then, I barely knew what was to come. How could magic be real? And moreover, how could I be born without it yet my father possess it? Regardless of the specifics, the unthinkable happened that night. My father packed his bags while my mother screamed and cried in equal measures. He never asked any questions, never gave any answers. All that he did give was the harsh slam of the front door and a silence that would permeate my life from here on after.

That was the last time my mother was ever to see him. Within seven years, she would pass at only forty-three years old. Afterward, I was sent to live with my older half-brother, Jude, who had been born of my mother's teenage pregnancy at age seventeen. Despite the ten-year gap, he was a wonderful brother and guardian to me. By day, he worked in an office but by night, he was one of the most skilled artists I had ever known. His paintings were exquisite and I'd always hoped that one day he would be able to make a living off of his talents.

I admired him for being able to care for a teenager at the young age he was himself, only twenty-six years old. Especially when I was a natural-born troublemaker.

Don't get me wrong, though, despite the happiness I had found, thoughts of my father's whereabouts still consumed me. I oftentimes wondered how he could simply move on and act as if he had no daughter, as if I had never been born at all. It created a void in my heart and trust issues with men that I feared could never be cured. I never imagined I would meet him again later in life. And at my own boarding school as a professor there, no less.

Life as I knew it was forever to be changed.

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