I’ve really gone and royally fucked everything up. Who isn’t mad at me at this point? Fez is really the only person I can think of, and he isn’t a person at all. At this moment, sitting in this cold, dreary space, I feel more alone than I ever have in my life, and that’s saying something. My stubbornness and selfishness has landed me in my worst fear: Irrevocably and depressingly alone.

I should be more upset about the fact that I’m about to be set forth in front of the council and whatever punishment they dish out. The fact is, I probably deserve it. Magic has checks and balances and I’ve been teetering on the edge for too long. Acting like I’m better than everyone else because my mother and coven scorned me. I’ve used my trauma to justify my behaviors, and realizing that makes my stomach churn. I didn’t think that there would be a day where retribution didn’t drive me, but I don’t know what could motivate me. My self-reflection has tears dripping down my face. I stop the waterworks quickly and have to use my shoulder to wipe the tears away.

Hope that at least Stevie will still care about me and love me is the only thing holding me together right now. If I even dare to think about the regret and sadness written on Dax’s face from earlier tonight, I’ll spiral. I just need to get through tonight, answer the council’s questions, accept my punishment, and move on.

“Let’s go,” a voice barks beside the wrought iron bars of my cell. I look up and it’s the same man who accosted me outside of the restaurant.

For the first time in my life, I keep my sharp tongue locked down, rise to my feet, and walk to the bars. He unlocks them with a ridiculously large skeleton key that’s held on a ring with at least twenty other keys of different shapes and sizes. They jingle as he walks me to wherever we’re going. The jingle echoes in the halls of the stone we’re walking through. Almost like a taunting noise, like ‘ha, bitch, time to finally face the music’.

We walk through multiple narrow paths. It’s cold and clearly underground where we are. The man holds me by the elbow as he ushers me to a large open area. There’s still the same cobblestone floor, but the room is massive and there are stained glass windows at the top of the room, easily seventy feet high. The man places me on my knees on the hard, cold, uneven flooring. Damn, you can’t even get a chair during your sentencing?