Nothing hurt. Yet everything hurt.
Pain. Fire. Sadness. Sorrow. Helplessness.
Loneliness.
That was the crux of my life. The absolute chilling fact that ruled over every year—all eighteen of them—coloring, shaping, and defining them. Loneliness isn’t something you feel when you’re alone. It’s something you feel when you’re with other people. The utterly undeniable and inescapable feeling that even though you’re with them, you don’t belong to them.
Unwanted. Unneeded.
Alone.
My alarm clock began counting down.
It was an old thing that I found in the ‘$1’ box in a thrift store. The damned thing was made of steel, with a rusted clock face and exposed gears. It was dented to hell and back, too. I’m pretty sure it was a repurposed bomb or something. Because it never just started ringing—it would start counting down first, just like it was doing now, before letting out unholy metal screeching cries, which it did by slamming its tiny hammers hard enough to create actual dents on the steel frame.
The fact that I could hear the countdown for the Steely Clock’s self-destruction meant I was awake. A normal person might take that opportunity to stop it.
I covered my head in the blanket, wrapped the pillow over my ears, and turned my back to the clock.
After what seemed like an eternity, the clock began to slam its own hammer into the side of its body. A rigid metallic sound that was half-screech and half-industrial junkyard car crushing, the clock’s ringing filled my entire room, spreading its racket to the trailer and probably a good distance away from it too.
I wanted to turn it off. I really did. After all, the alarm clock was only an arm’s reach away.
But I just couldn’t find the energy to do it.
My name is Jain Shin Hallow, and I haven’t been turning off my alarm clocks lately.
About a month ago, I found out that my parents were Practitioners. Humans who can wield Magic —capital M magic—and that they were involved with a side of our world that most people have the blessing of never being a part of. Because as much as Magic is real, so were the things that Magic is typically used for. Monsters. Curses. The Supernatural and the Occult.
I got a crash course about this world through a trial where I was pitted against other Practitioners. A trial where the winner became the full owner of my mom’s inheritance—the Shin Shaman Practice. I won’t go into the details, but suffice to say that I almost died multiple times, and I have the scars to show for it. I also have dreams now. Vivid, realistic dreams that, more often than not, I find myself waking up from in cold sweat.
Long story short: I won. It wasn’t easy. But I won.
Victory got me a lot of things. A box full of journals of the Shin Shamans that came before me, an official pathway to citizenship for Society (think of it like a Homeowner’s Association for Practitioners, except they oversee the Practice of entire families), knowledge that I could do without, two lifelong companions in the form of a Black Cat who fished the Moon, and the Thousand-year Golden Flaming Carp. Wol and Hwari, respectively.
Oh. I also learned that my mom, who I thought was dead, is actually alive, taking care of the sister that I never knew I had. My dad is with them right now. That little tidbit of information came with the knowledge that my parents wanted the Shin inheritance to go to my sister—and as a result, I was left to fend for myself.
…My dad said I was supposed to drop out.Fail.Just… fade out of the competition.Get scared of the big stakes, and quietly fold out instead of exposing myself to the danger.Become mortal, and live my life in quiet anonymity to the things that paid attention to all things Hallow.
Instead, I risked everything I had and won.
He hadn’t been thrilled.
The alarm clock was still slamming its little hammer fists into its sides with enough force to start rattling the dresser it was on. I slowly shifted underneath the pillow, watching it get closer and closer to the edge. It fell two days ago in the same way. That horrible sound of metal shaking against wood, then the ‘oh shit’ moment of it falling off the edge, and an even louder noise as it clattered all over clutter on the floor.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I pondered turning it off. But the dresser looked so far. And even the thought of reaching out to turn the alarm clock off filled me with a sense of overwhelming weariness. Like the thought alone was enough to drain my energy.
I watched without thought, numb to the sound and inevitable crash.
Wol’s paw appeared in my vision, batted the alarm clock to stillness, and pushed it back to its original place far from the edge of the dresser.He sat, blocking the alarm clock from view.
“Practitioner,” he said, his body perfectly still in that specific way that only cats can do. “You are late for school.” When I didn’t answer, he added, “You told me the vacation ended two weeks ago,” he said gently.
I didn’t answer. Answering meant opening my mouth and conuring sounds out of my throat. More so, it meant thinking of an answer, an excuse of why I was going to skip school. Again.
So I turned away from him, smooshed the blankets tighter around myself.
“Practi—Jain,” Wol corrected midway. Saying my name tugged on the invisible connection between us, from Familiar to Practitioner. “You have been in bed for the last three days. I think it’s time you get up.”
I didn’t answer.
“Practitioner.” Wol put a little more strength in his voice. “You haven’t gone to school. You have shirked your practitioner responsibilities. Your staff lies half-finished, untouched since a few weeks ago. You promised the mortal at the food-place that you’d work there, yet you never showed up. You haven’t done anything worthwhile since the trial ended.”
Silence.
“Please, get up and at least groom yourself.”
I stared at the wall.
I felt his sigh before I heard it. It came like clockwork, this little interaction between Wol and me. I knew he didn’t care about school. He hated it. He thought it took time away from the really important things—like being a Practitioner and mastering the Shin and Hallow Arts.
It started the day after I got the Shin Journals.
I stayed in bed starting that day. I only got up to use the bathroom and eat a bag of chips when my stomach cried out in pain. But for most of the time, I stayed under the blankets where it was warm and empty. Sometimes, I slept. Other times, I did what I was doing now: nothing.
It felt like nothing mattered. That nothing I did would amount to anything. Who cared, right? I mean, I should be studying. I should be showing up to my part-time job at Murder Burger to save up for tuition now that my first-choice for college was out. I should be going to school, eating more than just potato chips for meals, talking to my counselor, listening to Wol, and putting the finishing touches on my staff.
…I should have been thinking about what I wanted to do regarding my Parents and my Sister.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. Those issues seemed too big. Too inconsequential, and insurmountable at the same time. I couldn’t be bothered to face something like that. Even thinking about those things now stirred a soul-deep weariness that made me want to stuff my face into my pillow and scream until my lungs bled out.
This was no different than studying for a nasty test, or being diligent about my homework. The little things first, then start working myself down the list. Eventually, I’d get to the ones that I wanted to do the least.
Yet, I never started.
Tomorrow, I said. I’d tackle those problems tomorrow. The Jain Hallow of tomorrow can deal with that.
I kept telling myself that. That I just needed time.
Wol leapt on the bed, nudging me with his paw. “Jain. At least wash yourself. Jain!”
I wrapped the pillow around my head tighter, thinking how nice it would be if I could just suffocate myself right there and then.
Hwari melted out of the walls into my vision. ‘Wol, there is the girl outside again.’
“Which girl?” Wol asked.
‘The one with the Haetae.”
Our house. The words sent a pang through me, pulling on feelings that I couldn’t recognize. But it wasn’t enough. I stayed in bed, happy that Hwari was taking Wol’s attention off of me.
“It’s the liaison,” Wol said. “Practitioner, this is the fourth time she’s visited.”
I grunted. The acknowledgement that there was something that needed doing sent tendrils of awareness into my mental fog, shaking it up to disturb the precious empty peace I’d built for myself. A threat to the status quo. I retreated further, trying to devise a way to prolong it.
“She’s waiting for you outside, Jain,” Wol said, his voice more urgent than before.
“Tell her to come back tomorrow,” I said through the pillow.
Wol heard it somehow, but not because it was audible. “You said that yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before.”
“Then she’s used to it.” I sounded annoyed.
Wol paused, and it made me peer out from under the pillow.
“Practitioner,” he snapped. “This is unbecoming of you. You are the only living Hallow who still retains their connection to the family practice, and the acting Shin Shaman. You represent not one, but two of the oldest families that Society represents. Now, get up, make yourself presentable, and greet the liaison.”
I leaned away from the harshness in his voice. A part of me whispered that he was being annoying and that he should mind his own business. A much smaller part of me interjected that he might have a point. In the end, I reached a compromise between the two.
“And if I don’t?” I challenged, though my voice died to a croak at the end.
“Then I will let her in myself,” Wol said, lifting his head.
I looked around my room. Empty chip bags, dirty underwear, plastic cups with liquid left over in them, and more littered the floors and every surface available. More so, I couldn’t smell myself, but instinct told me that it reeked in here. And it was worse in the living room.
“Wol,” I said. “I’m tired.”
And my words rang with truth.
My familiar’s golden eyes softened. “I know, Child.”
Hwari floated over to my cheek and laid her head on it. The shadowy ghost-karp’s body felt cold and empty, but the gesture flooded my mind with light nonetheless.
I felt noticed. I felt seen. I felt… depended on.
We were silent for a long time.
Finally, I pushed myself up into a sitting position. “I need a few minutes.”
Wol perked up noticeably, his tail swishing behind him. “I will inform our guest. Will you be inviting them inside? I’ll do so.”
“No,” I said gravely. “That’s… that’s a joke, right?”
He was already out the door.