You’re hurting. The missing patches of hair from them holding you down, bite marks on your neck, welts and bruises. They all showed what happened to you at that Halloween party. You didn’t deserve this…

But they did. Every ounce of what they had coming. You ran home, grabbing the book your grandmother had left for you before he passed. You finished the circle, lit the candles. Recited the Latin. And there he was…looking down at you with distaste. His eyes flicker over your injuries… He lets you speak first.