Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I’ve just put it back in its place—and Hansel’s putting the last plate on the rack to dry—when there’s a knock at the door.
Hansel doesn’t glance at me. He goes to the door and opens it.
“Mary,” he says, and bends down to give Mary a hug.
“Hansel,” she says warmly, patting his back, and then she spies me over his shoulder. Her eyebrows shoot up toward the sky. “Gretel!”
Mary’s a petite, kind-faced woman who bustles in and puts her arms around me without hesitating. I have to swallow a lump in my throat as I hug her back. The village blames me for what happened. Nobody will say it to my face, but I know they’re all thinking it—and honestly, I agree with them. Things could have been so different for all of us. I was the one who begged him to come with me. I needed to see if there was anything out there. I regret it and the town regrets my existence.
But Mary pushes me a step back and looks me up and down. “You look well,” she proclaims, and pats my face. “I hope you’re not intending to be gone long. You’re not, are you?”
“No, I’m not planning to be gone long,” I tell her, and let go. Her shawl covers most of her; the older woman’s gray hair is braided beneath the cloth.
She heads to the table next and helps Hansel’s father up from his chair. The two of them go across to the fire, and Mary settles him in, tucking a blanket over his lap and fussing over him. They’ve both suffered loss and in each other’s company they can be alone together.
They’re not gone, but they’re far enough away that it feels like Hansel and I are alone in the kitchen.
His eyes are dark with emotion as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You’ll need to change,” he says. “I’ll prepare the horse and the wagon. We’ll go as soon as you’re ready.”
Don’t you want to talk first? I bite back the question. “I won’t take long.”
He nods, his jaw clenching, and looks away.
I hurry to the hooks by the door and get my bag, then hurry to the narrow bedroom. I don’t have much to change into. A warmer underdress. A wool sweater. My thickest socks.
I smooth out the sheets on the bed and tuck the blanket back in.
When I emerge a few minutes later, Hansel’s waiting by the door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Mary and Hansel’s father are with him. Hansel’s father pats Hansel’s shoulder.
I go to join them, my heart heavy. I don’t want to take Hansel from his father. I can’t do this without him. I wish none of this had ever happened. I can’t escape the fact that it did.
Selfishness comes over me and I nearly change my mind. But she has to die, once and for all. I need to make sure the witch is dead.
Hansel gives his father one last goodbye and heads out the door. Mary embraces me. Hansel’s father squeezes my shoulder as I move toward the door.
“Take care of my boy,” he says softly, then closes the door behind us.
Chapter Three
Hansel
The fog is so thick I can hardly see Gretel at the doorstep. She’s mostly a shadow, looking smaller, somehow, than she used to look. Not that Gretel was ever tall. But she used to stand up straighter. She didn’t look so afraid. We were only kids and life hasn't been kind to either of us. Her timid nature is evidence of that.
I feel for her. She’s fucking terrified and I haven’t seen her like that since… The memories assault me and I’m taken back there, for only a moment before I shut it down. The witch is dead. We aren’t children anymore. And she needs to know it’s over.
If only it was a nightmare, one I’ve spent years attempting to wake from.
As I watch her stare off down the road as if the witch is waiting for us, all of the feelings I’ve spent years suppressing rage inside of me.
Last time I let my feelings get the better of me, we ended up in that witch’s house, and it ruined our lives. Not just ours.
I bristle at the thought.
I’ve already got the wagon ready. The horse is harnessed. I spent half of the night awake, thinking of Gretel in the next room, tossing and turning like the teenager I used to be.
I’m not that boy anymore. And she’s not that girl who longed for laughter and adventure. Life didn’t want her spirit so bright.
“Ready?” I call, hating that this is what brought us together again.
“Yes,” she answers, though just from her tone, I can tell she doesn’t want to do this. She’s already having regrets.
Gretel needs to know she’s wrong. She needs to understand that we killed that witch, and the fog has nothing to do with us. This curse is steadfast but it doesn't’ mean the witch lives. She burned in that oven. Her stench ever present if only I think of the dreadful day. The scream… it haunts me and I imagine it haunts Gretel as well.