The witches

They stood surrounding the bed screaming; their anger turning their faces a witch’s red. She cowered against the wall, sobbing. If she could have said anything, she would have said Sorry, and she certainly learnt to say that a lot afterwards. Though it took her a long time to realise she had nothing to be sorry for.

One of them; the head witch, slapped her. “You murderer!” the witch screeched. The girl sobbed even harder.

The facts were thus; the girl’s mother had been pregnant. Due to iron deficiencies she miscarried; it was certainly not the first time. Unfortunately it was during the time that the girl had first spoken of the sexual abuse by her step-father.

For fifteen years that girl believed she was a murderer.

That girl was me.