EMILY
"Wait," she called after me, but all she heard was the bang the door to my room made as it closed behind me.
What the bloody hell was wrong with Aunt Lena? How are we any better than the werewolves we criticize if we kill people based on assumptions? Or even at all?
I was no killer, and I sure as hell will grow old and die being this way.
Unable to fall asleep, I chatted with Jonathan who apologised for not coming to talk to me. I texted him to come meet me at the rooftop of the witches' storehouse and he was reluctant because 'the streets weren't safe'.
I managed to convince him anyway.
"This is madness," Jonathan said, as we lay on the rooftop, staring at the night sky. "I will not be doing this again. Not even for you, Emily."
"Come on. Don't you like the view from up here
