"Is that it?" My father's voice unravelled the world around me, pulling me back into Emma's kitchen. My arms and legs were now nothing more than Jell-O – my mouth completely drained of moisture, as if I had swallowed a fistful of cinnamon. I was sure Emma could hear my heart beating. "You're going to make us sit and hold hands like a couple of hippies and call it magic? We came here to witness the dark arts, not this friendship is magic bullshit."

He seemed unimpressed. His brown eyes were narrow and focused – his hair, still, an unbrushed mess, and frown lines began to form on his forehead. "Close our eyes so we don't see that you are talking to no one but yourself? I've seen better at a carnival."

"I-" I stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"We've been played for a fool, Anastasia." He stated finally, stepping off the table before straight himself. His frame was tense – like that of an amateur boxer, trying to seem tougher than he actually is at a press conference.

"No... " I trailed off as contusion began to set in. "No! Did you not just see that? Mother was – she... "

Emma placed her hand onto my shoulder, shaking her head. I froze. How could he not see any of that? I –

"Anne, we're leaving." He spoke in the same stern tone. I shifted off the table, hoping my legs would carry me. He grabbed my wrist before tugging, heading straight from the door. I turned to Emma, the world spinning around me.

"I'm sorry for giving you false hope," He said, shaking his head. The glare in his eyes changed now. Was it remorse? No... It was something else. Something I couldn't truly explain. They seemed blank. I tugged loose.

"What's gotten into you?" I asked, hoping my words would come out just as stern as he was. Instead, it was but a panicked whimper, shrouded in disbelief and a revelation. He ignored my words, grabbing onto my wrists and tugged me further from the house, as if some_thing_ had taken over him. Again, I tugged free. "Jason, what the hell?"

He turned to face me with laboured breathes as sweat ran down his forehead in beads. As blood rose to his face, he seemed even more dishevelled than usual, and it hadn't been the time I've seen him this way. The first time had been the night of my twelfth birthday as he was carried to the front door of the apartment we've been staying at the time, so drunk that he could barely walk. The landlord called him a terrible father, having to look after me for the entire day he'd been gone.

Yet, I knew it hadn't been that. Ever since my mother had passed away, he had been different in the same way most would be after losing their partners. It started with a single glass of whiskey each night before heading to bed, then quickly moved to a glass whenever something vaguely reminded him of her. Eventually, it all became too much for us to bear and he realized this; we left the house behind for bedbug-infested motels, free-to-park parking lots and open-air camps along the coast.

Although, the look in his eyes now couldn't be pinned to just grief. It seemed almost disenchanted.

I started breathing slower to calm myself down.
Three. Two. One.

"You really didn't see anything back there?" I asked again, steadying my voice out. His eyes glimmered for a moment before it was snuffed out by whatever had taken over him. _Magic? Hell, who knows?

"There was nothing to see." He placed his hands onto my shoulders, brushing my brown curls out of my face.

"Yeah," I lied. "I guess I didn't sleep all that well last night."

"Yes," He nodded before trailing off. "I think I'm going to the car. I need to rest."

I sighed before nodding, knowing exactly where he was really going to, yet I didn't bother to stop him as he walked off. I turned to the house behind me, seeing Emma stand in the doorway. I walked towards her.

"Be careful, kid," She sat on the porch with her head in her hand. "The past and future tend to play out ever so differently than what the prince allows you to see."

"I can bring her back," I stated before walking off. The town wasn't all that big so getting lost had been difficult, and missing anything on your first ride through on horseback was impossible. Being great since my sense of direction had been nearly nonexistent, terrible if you wanted to explore the town itself. Uneasy, I continued to the park on the opposite end of town from the bar and where we parked, figuring it would be better if I let my father be. He had a lot to deal with.

The park, along with the giant billboard at the entrance, had been the only scraps of anything that seemed even vaguely modern. It had been completed with a swing set and see-saw that had been too worn down to be safe. The park was empty apart from the two people sitting on the swings – an elderly man who's hair had been so grey, it glimmered like snow in the sunlight, and the same girl I saw peering through the window at Emma's house. She sat, struggling to shuffle the deck of cards in her hands.

"Not much to do here for someone your age, is there?" Noticing me staring, the old man spoke in a tone so gentle, the fear of the demon I saw began to bleed from my thoughts. "You're welcome to join us."

"I'm actually just passing by," I stated, as my body pulled itself towards the pair. I sat on the swing beside the girl. She smiled at me, then looked back at her card, struggling to shuffle it. Part of me wanted to help, but my attention had been focused on the old man.

"I understand," He laughed. "It wasn't too long ago that I was your age. I remember what it was like – dying of constant boredom, struggling to catch the attention of the opposite sex and trying all so hard to keep your own emotions in check. Anyhow, what brings you to these parts?"

I kicked my feet into the ground to start swinging. "My father and I are passing through, I guess."

"Ah, a family trip." He nodded as the girl hopped off her swing, running to me. She held her cards out in an awkward fan as to say 'choose a card.' I slipped one out of the pack, memorizing the face as the jack of spades before handing it back to her. Losing her focus, the break in the deck shut before she could bring my card back to the top. She frowned, trying to cover it up as she went back to shuffling unsteadily. She drew a card from the top of the deck, three hearts, I nodded with a smile and she stared back at the cards in absolute disbelief.

The old man laughed, holding his hand out. "My name is Petto, in case you were wondering."

"Anastasia Willows," I responded and his laughter simmered down to a faint smile. The girl tugged on his arm, looking at him as if she wanted to go urgently. He rose to his feet with an exaggerated sigh.

"Oh well," He spoke softly. "It was nice seeing you."

"You too," I trailed off.