This is rated pg-13 for child abuse and rape. Don't read this if that offends you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or the characters, only the story.

I sit bolt upright, gasping for breath, bathed in sweat, my eyes staring wildly into the darkness. As I begin to realize that I’m safe at home in my bed I relax a little.

As I lay back down I remember the images of my nightmare. They are what I see again on the back of my eyelids when I try to go back to sleep. I sit up. I’ve been dreaming about this for the past twelve nights. Does it mean anything?

I roll over and try to keep the thoughts out of my mind but they keep sneaking back in. I growl with frustration and desperately I turn on the light. I screw up my eyes and quickly switch it off again. When I finally get back to sleep the scenes from my dreams begin to mix themselves with the faces of my sisters. I try desperately to figure it out and when I wake up I know as surely as I know my own name what I have to do.

“Hey Paige,” Piper says, appearing from behind the paper. “Come, sit, eat,” she commands. I stand for a minute. It would be so easy to do as she says and forget about it. I waver for a moment. “Are you feeling ok?” Piper asks. “You look a little pale.” I look at her kind, concerned face and know that I owe her and Phoebe the truth.
“I was wondering,” I mumble. “Could I talk to you and Phoebe?” Piper looks surprised.
“Yeah, sure, I’m not busy. I’ll go get Phoebe.” As she disappears upstairs I sink into the couch and put my head in my hands. I can’t get out of it now. But even as my sisters are coming downstairs I’m still thinking of wild explanations to get myself through this.

They sit down opposite me and look at me expectantly. I’m still trying to think of possible answers but as the seconds draw out and nobody speaks I know I’ll have to tell them.

“Well, ok, here goes,” I say nervously. “I’ve been having this recurring dream for the past twelve nights.”
“You think it could be a demon?” Piper asks immediately.
“Anything but,” I say, secretly wishing it is. “The dreams I’ve been having are of my past.” I take a deep breath and look my sisters in the eye. “There are some things I should tell you.”

“PAIGE!” his voice fills the house. I instantly wake, alert and terrified. His heavy footsteps pound down the hallway and I close my eyes, preparing myself. The door flings open. His large frame seems to fill the entire doorway and his face is red and twisted with hatred. His strides into my tiny bedroom and stops by the bed. I smell the sickly sweet scent of alcohol on his breath. He’s drunk. The knowledge in my ten-year-old mind makes my already wildly beating heart beat even faster. I cringe, knowing that this night will be even worse that the many others.

“Well?” My foster father snaps.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not even knowing what I’m sorry for.
“You better be, you little bitch,” he says.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, though even while I’m saying it I know that the words will do nothing to calm him. He backhands me across the cheek. Where many other ten-year-olds would cry or at least put a hand to their face to stop the stinging, I do and say nothing, knowing the action would enrage him further.

He holds up a red shirt. “Look at it,” he hisses, every syllable trembling with rage and venom. I do so. I can see nothing wrong with it and say nothing. This seems to be the wrong move. When my father is drunk I don’t know how to act, his moods being so unpredictable. He hits me again, roughly. I fall back with the impact and bang my head hard against the wall. Through stars I see his hand pointing to a part of the shirt.
“What is this?” he asks. I squint through the double vision and see what he’s upset about.
“A crease,” I whisper with dread.
“That’s right. And isn’t one of your tasks to do the ironing for me?” He seems to want an answer so I nod. He hits me again, though not as hard and I manage to stay upright. “You know Paige, anyone would think you’d be grateful,” he tells me. “I took you into my home when no one else wanted you, not even your own parents. I gave you shelter, food and clothes. All I ask is that you do a few chores for me. Is that too much for you?”
“Yes,” I want to say. “You gave me shelter but not a home. You gave me food, but only enough to keep me alive. You gave me clothes but only old ones of your cut to size. You gave me fear, pain and you took away my childhood.

“You give me a ‘few chores’, you say. ‘A few chores’ doesn’t mean cooking, cleaning, washing and any other household chore you think of. It doesn’t mean you should beat me every time I do any little thing wrong. Yes, it is too much. It’s far too much.” But I bite back my comments and reply, “No, I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“You better hope so,” he says. “Do you choose to do this? Do you decide you want to be a lazy little bitch?”

I have no reply. I’m always getting in trouble for the ironing, especially when I first came here a year and a half ago. I’m still too small to see over the top of the ironing board and the iron itself is almost far too heavy for me to lift.

I’m brought back to reality by another stinging hit. My father looks furious. He picks me up easily and throws me across the other side of the room. I hit it head-first and I think I black out for about 10 seconds. When I come to my father is laying into me with his feet, kicking every inch of me other than my face and hands so the marks won’t show.

I curl up into a tiny ball trying, unsuccessfully to protect myself from the worst of the blows. It seems to go on for hours. Throughout the time I don’t make a noise; I let not one single tear escape.

I feel a sudden sharp pain and realize that my father must have at least cracked a rib or even broken one. I let out a small whimper of pain. I hold myself tighter and wait for my father to calm down a little.

Half an hour later, bruises forming and adding to my already large collection, weary, scared and aching, I crawl back into bed. I’m clutching my upper stomach and I’m whimpering. I at last let the tears flow freely as I hug my pillow and wonder why this happens to me. I lay, dreading the next time I make a mistake, knowing the whole thing will happen again.

I sniff and wipe away a small tear. My sisters have moved to sit next to me. Both have their arms around me, giving me silent support as I tell my story.
“Oh, Paige,” Phoebe says softly as I pause. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“Don’t worry, it gets worse,” I say grimly.
“Worse?” Piper is white. “Oh, Paige, honey.” I take a breath, drawing in the support I feel around.
“Yeah. When I was 14 I decided to talk to the school councilor.”

“Please help me,” I beg. I’ve told Mrs Parcell, the school councilor, all about my father. I can’t take the constant beatings anymore. Mrs Parcell is looking over her glasses at me.
“I don’t believe you,” she says suddenly.
“What?” I ask, stunned.
“I don’t believe you,” she repeats. “I know your father Paige. He and I were good friends a few years ago. He was a charming young man and I will not have you telling such awful lies about him.”
“But… You’ve got to believe me. I need help.”
“No,” she snaps. “Now get back to class.” I leave the tiny office, confused and scared. If the school councilor won’t help me, who will?

I enter the house and immediately feel a chill. The air feels wrong. My father comes out of the kitchen. He looks like he’s seething but has a look of forced calm on his face.
“Hello Paige,” he says.
“Hi,” I say nervously.
“I hear you had a meeting at school today,” he tells me. I go cold. How does he know? “Your councilor rang me,” he says, as if reading my mind.

He begins walking forward. For every step he takes I take two backwards. I take another one and hit my back against the wall. He’s got me and he knows it. My eyes dart around, looking for an escape.
“What’s the matter?” My father asks in an overly-caring voice. “Can’t I even get close to my daughter?”

I go cold when he says the word ‘daughter’. My father is constantly reminding me that I was adopted only to help him and nothing more. He won’t let me call him dad, saying it’s an insult that he could bear a child like me. So the way he called me his daughter means this must be very bad.

“You know, I think I’ve been too lenient on you. In the past when you’ve done things I don’t like my only punishment was beatings,” he tells me. I stare at him in stunned disbelief. Surely he can’t mean things are about to get worse? “I haven’t disciplined you well enough. You’re not learning from my previous ways of punishment so I think it’s time I tried something new.”

I’m tingling with fear at this point. I can’t think of anything worse he could do that he could get away with. He gives me a strange look.
“You’re an attractive young girl, Paige,” he says in an odd tone.

I immediately know what he means. Shivers run up and down my spine as the impact of what is about to happen to me hits me. My eyes grow wide and terrified and my mouth is hanging open in shocked horror. I desperately look around but can see no way to escape from my father.

He takes another step toward me. “Stay away from me,” I attempt in a trembling voice. He smiles.
“I don’t think so,” he says. He comes closer and closer. I scream. “Shut up,” he snaps. He slaps his right hand over my mouth, his left hand grabbing my arm tight. I quieten. “Thank you,” he says.

I stand with my back pressed up against the wall, cringing, waiting for him to make his move. And he makes it. Suddenly he slips his hand down my school dress. His hand touches my neck and keeps going. I flinch away from the touch but receive a stinging slap when I move. His hand keeps roaming around my body. I’m cringing, hating the feel of his hand on my body but too scared to move away.

Then he suddenly leans forward and presses his mouth to mine. I don’t know what to do; I have no experience in this area. His tongue is exploring my mouth. I shudder but don’t break the kiss. My father steps back and looks at me. He smiles and I shiver.
“You’ll be good, I can tell,” he murmurs. Then his hands are undoing the buttons of my school dress and the real horror begins.

I glance up at my sisters as I pause for breath. Piper is completely white and looks sick. Phoebe’s eyes are wide open and the expression on her face is of disbelief.
“Oh god, Paige. I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Phoebe tells me. I nod.
“Thanks,” I say. I tighten my hugs on my sisters and continue my story.

I sit in the corner of my room, my knees drawn up to my chest, shivering. I’m wearing nothing but a t-shirt. I’ve been sitting here in this position for half an hour now, since my father left the room. I’m desperately thinking of school, of fantasies, of anything to keep my mind off what has happened to me. But every time my thoughts wander back I go into a fit off uncontrollable shaking until I’m starting to fear a heart attack.

I want to throw up but have eaten next to nothing today and can’t. My body wracks with dry heaves and as they pass I begin to sob. I cry for the unfairness of the situation, for the shock and horror of my experience.

‘Why me?’ I ask myself. ‘Why was I chosen for this life and no one else? What did I do wrong?’ But I know what I did wrong. I was born. I obviously wasn’t meant to happen; why else would my parents have given me up?

I used to have fantasies about my real family coming to save me; to explain that it was all a mistake and they’ve been searching for me all my life. Now I’m older I know that isn’t going to happen.

I want to run to the bathroom but I’m too scared to leave my room. I don’t know if I can keep living like this. Something my father said made me realize he’s going to keep doing this. I don’t think I can cope with that.

But what can I do? Suicide? One of my earlier foster parents once said that suicide was the easy way out. The cheap option when you can’t be strong enough to keep going. Those words stuck in my mind and though I didn’t understand them when I first heard them I know now what he meant and I know that he’s right and I can’t do it.

All I can do is hold on and hope that one day someone will come and maybe I can break free of the life I’m living.

I stop for a moment, too choked up with emotion to speak.
“Would you like to stop for a bit?” Piper asks gently. “You look like you could use some time.” I shake my head.
“No,” I say. I know that if I stop I won’t go on. I wait for a minute to get myself back under control. I smile at my big sisters and then go on.

“And then when I was fifteen, help came.”

I’m sitting in my room doing my maths homework.
“So if x equals 3 then 3x + y = 13,’ I mutter.
“Paige.” I jump violently and spin. I hadn’t even heard my foster father come in. “Paige,” he says again. “I’ve got something to tell you. I want you to leave. Sure, it was fun for a while having a kid I could do what I liked with but I’m bored. I don’t want you living here anymore.”
“Don’t want me?” I repeat stupidly. Is he going to throw me out? He holds up a glass of water and a packet of panadol tablets.
“I want you to swallow these for me.”

I hear a sudden gasp from Phoebe.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “Go on.”

I stare at my foster father in utter disbelief. He’s standing there asking me in a perfectly calm voice to kill myself. He says it casually, like he’s asking me to go to the shops to pick up some milk or to just label a tape for him. He leans over to hand me the glass and the packet. I take it and stare at it numbly. I feel sick with what’s happening.

I’ve lived here for six and a half years. I’ve copped a lot of beatings in that time and over the past year I’ve been raped nine times. But after all that I’ve never ever been faced with a situation like this. I thought I was ready to give many times but I was strong enough to keep going. I won’t give up now.

I look up. “I won’t do it,” I say, my voice stronger than my feelings.
“Yes you will,” he says. “Or I’ll do it for you.” I take a step back.
“You can’t make me,” I tell him. “You’ll go to jail for murder.” My foster father looks pensive.
“Tragic how many teenage suicides there are these days,” he comments, as if he’s just making conversation. His expression turns hard. “Now swallow them.”
“No,” I tell him. “I’m not going to kill myself. Chuck me out or something but don’t make me purposely take my own life.”

He shakes his head. “You could have taken the easy option,” he tells me. “But if I have to force you, I will.” I know he will and I know that now he’s made up his mind there is nothing short of a miracle that can save me. But maybe I can cash in all the good luck I’ve missed out on over the years.

As he grabs the things out of my hands I make a decision. If I scream for help someone might hear me and come. If I don’t then I’ll die for sure. Maybe is better than certain. So I’ll scream. I’ll scream as long and hard as I can and there’s a chance – a small chance but still a chance – that I’ll survive. So as he pushes the first tablet into my mouth I scream. My piercing scream fills the house and I can only hope it’ll reach someone outside.
“Help,” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Somebody, please, help me.” My father is taking the opportunity of my wide open mouth to push the tablets in. I begin to feel light-headed but keep yelling.

I hear the front door open and my voice gets more desperate. “Please, anybody, I need help. Urgently!” Footsteps hurry along the hallway and our next-door-neighbour, Mrs Lachole, appears.
“What are you doing?” she screams as she takes in the scene before her. My father turns and shoots her a look and it’s only then that I realize what danger I’ve put her in. My father won’t want witnesses and he won’t be too squeamish to find a way to get rid of Mrs Lachole.

The room is spinning and I know I haven’t got much longer. “Don’t hurt her,” I croak as blackness passes before me and I lose consciousness.

I open my eyes and immediately shut them again, the light hurting my eyes. Dimly, I hear someone talking and a steady beeping fills my ears. I open my eyes and see white walls surrounding me. There is no mistaking the smell of disinfectant; the smell of hospitals.

I’m in hospital? Why, what happened? Then I remember. The images flood back into my mind. I remember my foster father telling me to kill myself. I remember the bitter and disgusting taste of the tablets as they were forced down my throat. I remember seeing Mrs Lachole and the terrible realization that she would die.

A nurse comes into view. “Hello,” she says, smiling at me. “You’re awake. Good.” She seems to be waiting for me to say something. I don’t. “Well, uh,” she says, clearly off-balance. “Well, how are you feeling?” Again, I choose not to follow the script.
“My foster father tried to kill me,” I tell her. “How should I feel?” She looks flustered.
“Ah, yes, I see. Well, I should get the doctor…” She pauses, as though waiting once more for me to speak, then turns. I finally break.
“Wait, tell me, what happened?” She turns to me, looking relieved. This is how things are meant to go.
“Well, your neighbour -,”
“Mrs Lachole,” I interrupt.
“- yes, Mrs Lachole,” she says impatiently, seeming annoyed that I interrupted her story. “As soon as she saw what was happening she of course ran to the phone and dialed the ambulance. As she put the phone down your father came in. Naturally, he didn’t want any witnesses so he grabbed the closest thing which happened to be a lamp and bashed your neighbour with it. When the ambulance arrived they found you both and rushed you to hospital. Unfortunately we lost your neighbour a few hours ago.”

I wonder how she can say all this without any emotion, and then wonder at myself for thinking that. Guilt overflows me. Mrs Lachole is dead. In trying to save my own life I took hers.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the nurse gushes at me in a sickly sweet tone. She’s obviously used to doing this.
“Mrs Lachole died because of me,” I tell her coldly. “How is that not my fault?”

The distressed look slides off her face. She’s decided she doesn’t like me. “I really think I should get the doctor for you,” she says through gritted teeth. I watch her leave.

After a few minutes the doctor comes in. He looks down at his list.
“So, Paige,” he says in a friendly tone. I give him a weak smile.
“Hi.” I drew a breath and then ask, “Do you know what happened to my foster father?” He hesitates.
“He ran,” he tells me. I look at him, desperately wanting him to say that he’s joking and he’s really in jail for life. But luck isn’t swinging my way. “The police are doing everything in their power to capture him,” he says gently. I nod, merely for the sake of it and fall silent. He begins to tell me that I’ll be fine and after a week I’ll be right to go.
“But you can have counseling if you wish -,”
“NO!” My reply is emphatic; I remember what happened last time I saw a councilor. The doctor looks confused.
“It’s to help you,” he tells me.
“No way,” I tell him. He flushes a deep red and clears his throat.
“Well, it’s, er, a hospital, uh, regulation for situations, uh, like this.”

I immediately feel myself getting mad. At home I never had a chance to vent my feelings; knowing the consequences if I did. Here, there is nothing holding me back.
“Oh, I see,” I say coldly. “So you pretend I have a choice and hope I say yes so you won’t have to tell me I have to.”

There’s a silence for a few seconds then something in his pocket beeps. The doctor takes it out looking relieved.
“Oh, I’m needed,” he says. “One of the nurses will be along soon.” He hurries out of the room and I’m once again left alone.

I sit back against my pillows and survey the room. One other bed, holding an old man, asleep with a magazine stuck to the left side of his face. Windows, looking out on a car-park, the staff one probably judging by the cars. A TV in the corner, probably used for the ABC news and nothing else. That’s it. No pictures, no posters on the walls, not even ones warning you about horrible diseases.

My mind moves on. What will I do when I get out of here? If my father is on the run I’ll have nowhere to go. How will I go with counseling? I look around desperately and notice the window again. An idea strikes. Very carefully, so as not to wake the man in the other bed, I step out of bed. My knees almost collapse beneath me. I sit back down on the bed. It may have to wait a few days, but I’m getting out of here, on my terms not theirs. I’m tough. I’m a street girl from now on.

“Oh Paige, you didn’t,” Piper exclaims. I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Why not?” I ask. She looks troubled.
“Well, nothing, I guess,” she says. “Anyway, keep going.” I give her a look and begin to talk again.
“Two days later, I escaped.”

The nurse leaves the room and I’m left alone. The old man in the other bed left yesterday and no one has filled his spot yet. I’ve only had one session of counseling and I sat there for two hours and didn’t say a word.

The nurse enters. “Time for dinner,” she says brightly. She hands me a tray holding disgusting looking soup. I take it without complaint and begin to eat. The nurse gives me a friendly smile before leaving.

As soon as the door shuts behind her I jump out of bed. I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Good; anyone seeing me will think I’m perfectly ordinary. I walk to the window and slide it up carefully, making sure to make as little sound as possible. I squeeze through the small gap, grateful for the first time of my extreme skinniness. I stand on the other side of the window and look back. I’m free.

I walk jauntily to the road and start walking along. It’s only then that I realize I have nowhere to go. Darkness is gathering fast and I have nowhere to sleep. I glance at my battered old watch to see that it’s nine o’clock already. I spot a convenient corner and make for it.

“Hey.” I turn to see two boys and a girl, all about sixteen standing behind me. “That’s our spot,” the girl says menacingly.
“Oh, sorry,” I squeak. “I’ll find somewhere else –,”
“You better,” one of the boys says. “No one – NO ONE – messes with us.”

“Hey, kid,” I hear a shout from behind me and turn, scared it’ll be more trouble. A boy stands there. He glares at the others. “She’s with me,” he says to them. He grabs me roughly by the shoulder and pulls me away. I don’t resist, hoping he’s helping me not taking me away to cause me trouble.

He stops out of sight of the corner and offers me his hand. “Hey. I’m Glenn,” he says. I take it.
“Paige,” I say. “Thanks for helping me.” He grins.
“It’s alright. Where are you from?” I explain and he looks thoughtful. “You’re on the streets now?” he asks. I nod and he grins. “Good. You can join my group.”
“Group?” I ask.
“Me, my younger sister and a couple of friends,” he says. “Shel’s about your age. How old are you anyway?”
“14,” I say. Glenn raises his eyebrows.
“You’re older than you look. Shel’s 13 and I’m 15.”

While he’s been talking he’s pulling me along until he suddenly stops.
“Uh oh,” he breathes in my ear. “We’ve got trouble.”

A rough looking boy of about 17 or 18 seems to appear from nowhere, flanked by two tough guys.
“Don’t say a word,” Glenn whispers and I nod slightly. The boy walks forward and looks at me.
“New-comer?” His voice is deep and could be charming if it wanted to be. I say nothing, feeling Glenn’s grip on my shoulder tighten. The boy walks around me in a circle, as though examining me. When he gets to the front he stops. He says nothing for a moment, looking me over.
“You’ll do,” he says, nodding.

“No,” Glenn says quickly then falls silent when the boy looks at him. “I mean,” Glenn stammers. “You don’t want her, man. I’ve done her and she’s not good. Better for you.” The boy narrows his eyes at Glenn. I’m fuming with indignation but don’t speak.
“Fine,” the boy says at last. He turns to the other guys. “Let’s go.”

I wait for them to melt into the shadows before turning furiously to Glenn.
“WHAT was that about?” I demand.
“I was helping you,” Glenn says. “If I hadn’t said what I did he would’ve taken you with him as a screw-toy.” I stare at him.
“He can do that?” I ask. “Who is he?”
“Thom,” Glenn answers. “He’s king around here. You don’t want to mess with him.” I don’t answer.
“Thank you,” I say at last.
“That’s alright,” he tells me. “Now we better get going before we run into anyone else.

He takes me to an abandoned building. Inside it are two girls and a boy. Hey everyone,” Glenn says cheerfully. “This is Paige.” He introduces the others. There’s Shel, Glenn’s sister. The others are friends they met on the street. Katie ran away when her father killed her mother and Jason has been on the streets ever since he was thrown out when he was ten. Glenn and Shel’s parents were killed three years ago and they lost their older brother in a brawl a few months ago. I quickly tell them my story then we move onto food.

“Right, who was on scavenging duty?” Glenn asks. “They collect or nick our food for us,” he explains to me.
“I was,” Jason answers. He hands over a huge bag full of stale bread and some packets of biscuits. We all begin to eat. It doesn’t bother me that the food is off; I’ve had much worse food living with my foster father.

“Right,” Glenn says, hauling me to my feet. “I’ll give you a tour of the neighbourhood. Show you where you can and can’t go. Anyone else want to come?” The others shake their heads.

Glenn and I leave the building and turn left. “That’s a no-go zone,” he says, gesturing to the right. “That’s Thom’s territory. We only go there during the day time to keep a normal appearance.”

We walk along for about half an hour. I’m looking at the right and suddenly find myself sprawling in the dust. I look up to see what I fell over and see the cold eyes of Thom staring down at me.
“Apologize,” he says softly and menacingly.
“I – I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I – I wasn’t -,”
“Shut up,” he says. He kicks me in the stomach and I clutch it gasping.

“Hey,” Glenn steps forward angrily. “Leave her alone. She’s new here. Let her be.” Thom’s eyes narrow and he punches Glenn in the face. Glenn’s immediately punches him back, and then freezes as though he’s realized what he’s just done. Thom’s mouth opens and then he says, “You’ll pay for that.” He turns and leaves.

Glenn puts his head in his hands. I put my arm around him, not quite understanding.
“Don’t worry,” I say. Glenn’s head snaps up.
“You don’t understand,” he says. “He’ll…” Glenn gasps. “The others!”

I’m sprinting to keep up, puffing hard and not knowing what’s happening.
“What’s wrong?” I yell. Glenn doesn’t answer. We enter the building and run to where the others were. Glenn stops in the doorway and I bang into him.
“Sorry,” I say, and then my eyes open wide in horror. Blood is all over the floor. Some is pooling at my feet. I follow the trickle back to Jason’s body. His eyes are wide and I can still see the terror in them. He has multiple knife wounds all over his body. I look around and see the others all the same state. Shel’s eyes are wide and blank and Katie’s are shut but her expression is of extreme pain. My mouth is gaping and I feel like I want to be sick.

Beside me, Glenn slowly collapses to the ground. His face is white as mine must be and there’s pain and desperation in his eyes.
“Glenn,” I say helplessly.
He turns to me. “Guess it’s just you and me now kid.”

Phoebe looks like she going to cry. “Paige, you went through all that and you never told us,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I say, meaning it. “I couldn’t bear to bring back the memories.”

Piper looks sick. “Please don’t tell me anyone else dies,” she says. My face is grim.
“I can’t,” I say. Continuing with my story I say, “Glenn and I were together for another year until everything changed again.

I sit in the shelter, waiting for Glenn to return. He’s been gone almost an hour; he should be back soon. It’s been a year since the day we came back to find Shel, Katie and Jason dead. Glenn and I have stuck together and I’ve become familiar with the ways of street life.

“Paige.” My head snaps up and I stare at the man who has crept up on me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in horror. My foster father simply smiles and says nothing. “Why aren’t you in jail?” I hiss. He smiles calmly.
“No one could prove anything. That damned neighbour’s dead and you weren’t around to testify. They had to drop the case.”
“So you walked free,” I whisper. “You – a murderer, a sick, evil, twisted bastard – walked free.”

My foster father nods. “It was quite simple really. But I wanted to ask you something. How does it feel to know that you killed someone?” I feel red-hot rage rising inside me.
“Get out,” I hiss, my fists clenching.
“I don’t think so, Paige,” he tells me. “It took me a lot of time and effort to track you down. I’m not going away so easily.”

I frown. “Why did you try so hard to track me down? I thought you wanted me gone.”
“For a while, yes,” My foster father says, nodding. “But I realized I liked tormenting you so I came to find you.”

“Who’s this?” A voice asks from the doorway.
“Glenn!” I’m relieved yet worried because I know he could get hurt. The other man turns around.
“Friend of Paige’s?” he asks pleasantly. Glenn’s eyes are narrowed and filled with suspicion.
“I may be. And you?”
“Relax kid,” is the reply. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Don’t trust him,” I call out. “He is – was my foster father.”

Glenn’s face turns hard. My father, noticing his change of expression says, “You’ve heard about me then?”
“Yeah, and you’re little episodes with Paige,” Glenn spits.
“Oh, so she’s your slut now?” My fists clench.
“I didn’t want that and you know it.”
“Get out,” Glenn says. My foster father doesn’t move.
“You’re going to make me?”

Glenn puts his hand into his pocket and draws out a long, sharp knife. He glances at me then back to the other man. “Get out,” he repeats. My foster father doesn’t even look surprised. He slips his hand inside his jacket and pulls out a handgun. He points it at me and I freeze.
“Stalemate,” he states.
“You won’t do it,” Glenn says in a shaky voice. “You were just saying you wanted her.”

The shot echoes around the room. I duck instinctively and the bullet passes over my head and into the wall. I look at my foster father and am disgusted to see he look perfectly calm. Glenn is sweating. His grip on the knife tightens.

“Don’t even try it,” My foster father says. “But you know, I’ve changed my mind.” He grabs me roughly and kicks me hard in the leg. I crumple to the ground, feeling sharp pains go up my leg. “I’ll be taking you.” His fist connects with Glenn’s head and he falls.
“Glenn,” I scream. My foster father smirks at me.
“Bye bye,” he says sweetly.

“No,” I yell. I get to my feet and then fall back, agony shooting up my leg. My foster father picks Glenn up and slumps him over his shoulder.
“Be seeing you.”

He walks to the door and beyond. I stumble up and stagger after him, ignoring the pain in my leg. He is already out of sight.
“Glenn,” I sob. I collapse to the floor, putting my head in my hands. “No, Glenn. I can’t survive by myself. Come back.”

“Paige,” Phoebe whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. Her arms tighten around me as I go on.
“And not long after that I got my first introduction to magic.”

I stumble towards the cheerful looking building. It’s been a week since Glenn was taken. I figured out my leg is broken. I’ve survived for the past week by getting things out of rubbish bins and back yards. My leg doesn’t bother me too much; I’ve had worse pain than this.

But I can’t go on too much longer. I’m hungry enough as it is and I’ll have to wait till my leg heals to get any proper food. Who knows when that will be?

I feel ashamed in way to be going to a homeless youth centre. Its feels as though I’m not adequate, that I’m too weak to survive by myself. But the truth is, I’m am.

“What do you want?” A boy steps into my way. He looks like he could give me a hard time but really can’t be bothered.
“To go up to the shelter of that’s alright with you.” I answer stiffly. He steps out of the way and starts walking beside me as I determinedly look ahead of me.
“What’s your name?”
“Paige,” I answer shortly.
“I’m Jesse. You new on the streets?”
“No. I’ve been here for over a year.”

He grins. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. What happened to your leg?”
“My father hurt it,” I tell him. He grins again.
“It must have hurt if you’re still limping over a year later,” he quips. I glare at him.
“He did it yesterday,” I say. “He found me.” To my surprise I find myself warming to Jesse as we walk up to the shelter.

“Jesse,” I hear a shout behind us. Jesse turns. A friendly looking girl walks up.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m Kirri,” she says to me.
“Paige,” I answer. As the three of us go up to the shelter and talk I begin to realize that we could be great friends. Maybe something is going right for once.

*************

Three months later I sit with Kirri in our corner. We’ve become best friends along with Jesse. The only person I’ve been this close to before was Glenn. Things seem to be looking up.

“Kirri, Paige,” Jesse runs up to us, looking alarmed.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, the familiar sinking feeling filling my stomach.
“A huge wind thing is following me,” Jesse gasps.
“Wind thing?” Kirri and I are utterly confused.
“Yeah, it’s… there!”

We spin around to see what looks like a small tornado. The swirling clears and a man is standing inside. I look at his face and feel faint.
“Hey Paige,” my foster father says.

“No, not you, not again.” The words slip from my mouth.
“What are you,” Kirri whispers.
“A demon.”

Behind me I hear Kirri shriek. Jesse gasps and backs up. I say nothing, frozen.
“Sorry to keep it from you honey but -,” he shrugs. “– Couldn’t have you blabbing it to everyone, could I?” He pauses then says, “I’m telling you now because I think it’s time you knew that you’re like me.” I stare at him in confusion. Like him?
“No, you’re not a demon,” he says, reading my mind. “You’re a witch,” he whispers.

I stare at him in disbelief. “There’s no such thing as witches,” I tell him, my words sounding unsure. “Or – Or…”
“Or demons?” He chuckles. “You have much to learn.”

“Wait,” Kirri says. “You can’t just appear in a – a – tornado and tell us you’re demon. It’s impossible. Demon’s don’t exist.” My foster father holds up ball of fire and hurls it at Kirri. She ducks just in time and it passes over her to smash into the wall behind. Kirri’s face is white.
“Believe me now?”

Jesse steps forward angrily. “If you hurt her I’ll -,” suddenly he’s on the ground, gasping and clutching his chest. The blue sphere that hit him is nowhere to be seen.
“Energy ball,” my foster father remarks. “Very useful.” I give a death glare and Kirri at Jesse’s side.

“Forget it,” My foster father says. “You can’t save him. My energy balls are made to kill.” I glance up at him, hoping to find that he is joking but there isn’t a hint of a smile on his face.
“I’m going to train you in being evil, Paige,” he says to. “Just like I’m training Glenn.” My ears prick up when he says Glenn. “I’ll be back soon,” he says, disappearing.

I immediately turn back to Jesse. His face is ashen and he is sweating. He reaches out and takes each of our hands. His fingers are cold and clammy and the sweat almost makes him drop us.
“Jesse,” I whisper. He looks up at us.
“Paige, Kirri,” he whispers. Looking into his eyes, I see the knowledge of his own death there. “Don’t let him take you,” Jesse tells me. “Kirri, look after yourself.”
“No,” she chokes. Tears are running down her face as she looks at our best friend. “Jesse, don’t leave us,” she begs. He tries to smile; it looks more like a grimace.
“Bye,” he forces out.

I have my arm around Kirri as we watch the life ebb from our friend’s body. His eyes close and I know he’s gone. Kirri is quietly sobbing. I’m silent. There is so much I want to say but the words won’t come out. It isn’t until I taste the salt that I even realize I’m crying.

I hear a small sob and look around. Piper sniffs and wipes her eyes furiously when she sees I’m looking.
“Hey,” I say, attempting a cute smile. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be crying.” She gives a small forced laugh. Phoebe moves to put an arm around Piper as I keep talking.

“Not long after that, I got my first training for evil magic.

“What do you mean, it’s my fault?” I ask, hurt. I’ve asked Kirri why she’s been so weird with me in the month since Jesse’s death and now it’s finally out in the open.
“He was after you, wasn’t he?” she shoots at me. “Jesse just got in the way. If it wasn’t for you Jesse would still be alive now.”
“Yeah? Well, if I well him I’d be glad I was dead right now to get away from you.” Her eyes flash with fury.

“Get out,” she says. I lift my chin defiantly.
“No,” I tell her. “This is my spot too. You can’t make me go.”
“It’s mine and Jesse’s spot.”
“Oh god, it’s like you’re in love with him.” The look on her face tells me all I need to know. “You were?”
“Yes,” Kirri snaps, her eyes still snapping with rage. “For at least six months before you showed up.”
“So you were screwing each other and I never knew?”
“It’s none of you’re business. You know what, if you won’t leave then I will.”
“Fine,” I call after her. “But don’t expect me to come looking for you.”
She doesn’t reply, striding off. I settle back, still seething and wait to calm down.

“So you finally got rid of her. I was beginning to think I’d have to take her too.” The familiar voice speaks from in front of me. I don’t even bother to lift my head.
“Go away,” I say wearily, with no real conviction in my voice.
“Go away?” he echoes in mock hurt. “But you want to see Glenn don’t you?”

I look up eagerly. “Glenn? Where is he?”
“I’ll take you,” he says, reaching out a hand. I stare at it suspiciously. I know it could well be a trap but still… I take his hand and feel a funny rushing feeling in my stomach. I close my eyes and when I open them we are in a quite different place.

“Where are we?” I squeak in surprise.
“The underworld,” comes the answer. “Glenn, look who I found.”

A boy looks up. His eyes light up.
“Paige,” he calls.
“Glenn!” I run towards him.
“Glenn, show her around will you?” my foster father asks.
“Sure,” Glenn answers. He takes my hand and pulls me along.
“How are you?” I ask him.
“I’m great,” he answers enthusiastically. “I love it here. I don’t see what the fuss was about.”
“Oh.” I’m confused. Is my father good or bad?

“Who’s this?” a growling voice speaks.
“Back off,” Glenn says. I look up to see a large monster. “Don’t mess with her or me,” Glenn says to it.
“I -,” Suddenly Glenn launches one of the glowing things that killed Jesse at it. It flames and disappears.
“Oh, I love doing that,” Glenn says happily. I’m stunned.
“Did you just -,”
“Kill him? Yeah.”
“But why?”
“He was annoying me,” Glenn answers casually. I stare at him and back away. This isn’t the Glenn I know. The Glenn I know wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was really mad and had never killed in his life.

“What’s the matter?” Glenn says.
“You’re not demon are you?” I ask him.
“No,” he tells me. “But your dad gave me some powers. It’s the best fun. Did you know I’ve even got a demon name?”
“I don’t think I want to know it,” I say. Then I think of something. “Has my foster father got one?”
“Uh huh. He’s called Shax. He’s currently on a mission to kill these really powerful witches.”
“Right,” I say, reeling with the information.

“Paige,” my foster father – Shax – appears in front of us. “You’re starting training right away.”
“Training?” I’m confused.
“You’re training to be a demon.”
“But I thought you said…”
“That you’re a witch? There are bad witches.”

“What do I have to do?”

I shimmer into the witch’s home. In the three months since I was brought to the Underworld I’ve become a demon, and a powerful demon at that. I rose quickly through the ranks and became the Source’s right-hand man.

I haven’t seen Glenn for a while, but it doesn’t bother me. Where I once felt love and care, I now feel only coldness. Love is a weakness and I am anything but weak.

The room I am in is dark and the witch I have come to kill is nowhere in sight. I am not under orders, this kill is for fun.

“Where are you?” I taunt. I see a flicker of movement in the corner and walk towards it. Lights flares; the witch is trying to use her powers against me. I laugh as nothing happens. I am immune to witch powers, being half witch myself.

I flick my wrist and she flies back into the wall, hitting it with a satisfying thump. She struggles back onto her feet. I shimmer an anthame into my hand. I see fear and weary defeat in her eyes before I throw the anthame. It buries itself in her chest and she drops.

I taste sweet victory as I wait in anticipation. The expected glow escapes her body and travel to mine, disappearing into me. Her powers flow around my body until they are absorbed. I smile and shimmer out.

“He wants you,” the seer says, as soon as I shimmer in. She motions toward the Source’s lair. Those words would instill terror into many demons, but I am not one of them. I confidently walk forward and into the lair.

“My lord,” I say dropping to my knees. My father smiles at me.
“Paige, how nice to see you.” I put an insincere smile on my face.
“It is always an honour to see you,” I say.
“Stand up,” Shax commands. I do so until I am looking into his eyes. “I have a job for you. I want you to take the Charmed Ones.”

I am interrupted yet again by an involuntary gasp from Phoebe.
“You – you were trying -,”
“Shh,” I tell her. “Let me go on.”

I’m going to kill the Charmed Ones, the three most powerful witches outside the Underworld. I’m just about to shimmer out and put my plan into action when I’m interrupted.

“Hey, have you heard?” A demon is running up to me.
“Heard what?” I ask, a disinterested tone to my voice.
“That kid, the one who was given powers, he’s vanquished.”

My eyes grow wide and I stare at the demon.
“Glenn?” I croak.
“Yeah, that was his name. He got killed by a witch.” He pauses. “Apparently it was a new witch. She must have had a lot of power to kill him.”

I say nothing for a moment. Then I shimmer out. I shimmer into an isolated spot in Australia. I sit, just thinking. Why does Glenn’s death affect me so much? I’m an independent demon; I don’t need him or anybody else.

But deep down I know what it is. I’m not a demon in my heart. In my heart I’m still a normal girl who wants normal things, like getting a boyfriend and a place at uni. I’m human and I feel human emotions. I loved Glenn and I’m mourning. It’s then that I make up my mind and change my entire future.

I shimmer into my foster father’s lair.
“Shax,” I state walking up to him. He stares at me.
“What are you doing?” he demands. “On the ground!” I take no notice.
“Hey Shax,” I greet him casually. “Just thought I should let you know that I’m leaving your little club.”
“What?” he hisses.
“I’m not going to be a demon anymore. It’s not me and I don’t want it to be. I’m going. I guess I’ll see you around.”

I turn and begin walking away.
“Hey,” Shax shouts at me. “You won’t leave alive. You’re not getting out of here.” I turn to send him a scathing remark and instead find myself presented with a pink sphere heading straight at me. I try to shimmer, but aren’t quick enough as it hits. I feel a wave of weakness and crumple to the floor.
“What was that?” I gasp, trying to get to my feet and failing.
“That? Oh, that just took away all the powers I gave you.” Shax smiles. “You’re helpless.”

I stare up at him as he forms a energy ball large enough to kill me. I cringe as he aims for me, preparing myself. I see it flying towards me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight…

… And open them again to see blackness. Did he get me? Is this death?

“I don’t understand,” Piper says suddenly. “When we first met you, you told us that you knew nothing of magic. Now you’re telling us that you were a very powerful demon who tried to kill us.” She fixes me with a suspicious eye. “I don’t get it.”

I blink back tears, but don’t miss the look exchanged between my sisters; Phoebe’s saying, ‘shut up, don’t upset her’ and Piper’s saying, ‘well, she’s not making sense, how do we know she’s telling the truth?’
I fight back a small stirring of anger that my sisters could doubt me when I’m telling them the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. I squash it down and continue.

“When I got out of the Underworld and found myself in a dark alleyway– when I started to become me again - I was overwhelmed with guilt and pain. I couldn’t deal with it. I was ready to take my life, and would have if it hadn’t been for a very special – helper.”

I look down at the razor in my hand. I don’t want to do this but I have no choice. If I could take back all the deaths and sorrow that I caused I would. If I could bring back all the people that I killed, return them to their homes and families and tell them that I’m sorry maybe I could be ok. But I can’t turn back the clock. I don’t deserve to live.

I escaped from the Underworld and for five years I tried to suppress the feelings in my heart. I tried to build a normal life but there was always the guilt and pain in my heart. I can’t go on like that; I’ve got to do this.

I gasp with the sudden pain, but ignore it, digging the razor deeper into my wrist. I pull it out and attack my other wrist with it. The blood begins to flow, leaking out the slits. It is a slow trickle at first, progressing to a steady stream. I watch it calmly, waiting for death.

As I watch the blood pooling on the floor, the room begins to spin. Objects become fuzzy shapes and the floor turns into a mass of swirling colours before the blackness takes over me.

*****************************

White light surrounds me, hurting my eyes, forcing me to wake up. I do so, and find a woman standing over me. She has long, dark hair, flowing over her shoulders and her eyes are chocolate brown.

I get up.
“Where am I?” I quaver. “Who are you?” The woman smiles.
“My name is Patty Halliwell and I am your mother.” I stare at her.
“But they said my mother is dead,” I say.
“I am dead,” comes the reply.
“Am I dead?” I ask her.
“Not yet,” she answers. “You would be but I brought you into limbo. I need to talk to you.” I have no idea what she’s talking about but let her continue anyway. “Paige, I can’t stop you from taking your life but I’m telling you, please rethink this. If you decide you want to live I can take back your actions from just before you cut yourself.”
“Why would I want to live?” I ask. “I’ve done such terrible things; I deserve to go back to the Underworld and burn in hell.”
“Paige, you’re needed. You have a destiny, a powerful one. You’re very important. It’s not long until you find out why.” I raise my eyebrows at my mother. “It will put right all the things you have done,” she adds.

I’m silent for a minute. To make everything I have put innocent people through be erased; it’s what I’ve been wishing for the past five years.
“And one more thing,” Patty says. “I can erase it from your memory until you discover your true destiny.”

I look at her with bright eyes. This is getting more and more appealing.
“When will that be?” I ask.
“Not long,” Patty tells me.

I think for a few long moments. At last I look up.
“Alright,” I say. “I’ll take my destiny. I don’t know if I’ll make it but I’m going to try.” Patty smiles.
“I’m glad. I’ll return you back to your body now.”
“Ok. And – Mum?” Her eyes light up when she hears the word.
“Yes Paige?”
“Thanks,” I say simply. We smile at each other until I am engulfed into darkness.

*************

Three years later I sit at my desk. I am at my job, as a social worker. I am helping a little girl called Kirri and I can’t help remembering the three months I spent with my friend after Jesse died, murdered in a bank hold-up, and the five years after that going from job to job, earning a bit of money, but never really happy.

As I’m thinking, wind blows around the room and the newspaper lands at my feet. I pick it up and see that it’s flipped to the obituaries page. I notice a familiar name. I must have worked with her once. I see the date of the funeral and realize I should go. I wonder if I was friends with Prue Halliwell.