She holds out a hand. I wait a beat before reaching out to take it but once I stand up I let it go.
She's a witch, someone whispers into my ear.
Who is she? I ask.
She's a witch, the voice says.
Like all of them.
....
I keep staring at the car while I feel her fingers lightly stroking my face.
Just go where she says, the voice sighs.
But she's a witch, I whisper back, still staring at the car.
And her hand is a claw...
"Your face," she says.
"What about it?"
"You don't look like anything has happened to you," she whispers.
"And you're so pale."