Page 27 of Beautiful Nightmare
My body relaxes. The fun is only just beginning.
I unbutton my white dress shirt further before sitting back down in my chair with my legs propped up, crossed at the ankles. My index finger points at her, and my voice commands, “Talk!”
Agatha holds back, her face expressing that she has no fucks to give.
“You will stay up there, hanging, as you starve to death, and as your mouth becomes parched, my piss will be the only thing to quench it.” Pounding my fist down on the armrest, I demand respect and force her mouth to move whilst I shout out of frustration, “SPEAK, YOU FUCKING BITCH, SPEAK! YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO ME THAT NIGHT!” My breath is heavy as I struggle to contain my composure.
Admit it.
With dazed eyes,Agatha’s wrinkled, skinny lips move, and her vocal cords produce her nails-to-a-chalkboard voice.
“A suppression spell. It was a suppression spell, dammit.” The words are spat out like venom, and my gaze stills on Royce to observe her reaction.
And from here on out, Agatha can only speak the truth, so help her Satan.
My sweet foster sister had better be listening.
No movements or hitches in breath; instead, she lies still, while Agatha continues. “The same spell I cast on all your foster siblings. None of you are worthy of your gifts.”
And who made you judge and jury?I want to inquire while knowing all too well how hypocritical the question is, considering my history; therefore, I resist the temptation.
“That ungrateful cunt, laying pathetically on the floor, battered and wallowing in self-pity, snuck into your room that night. I wasn’t done. She interrupted us just as she did when she killed her mothers. Shecan never keep her nose out of other people’s business.”
Raising a brow, I am intrigued, so I encourage her to continue.
Go on.
“I hadone spell left to cast as your body levitated and your light seeped out. With the door opening, it broke my concentration. My eyes made contact with hers, causing your body to drop to your bed, and like a coward,shefled, leaving nothing but despair and disappointment in her path.”
Squinting my eyes, I search my memory, attempting to force myself to remember, as Agatha narrates our stroll down memory lane.
“Au casha, brute casha. Don heir see kata, brame heir se more,”Agatha’s words hushed out,
hissed and spoken with intention.
Enough games.Explain!
“The last stepin suppressing your thoughts. To remove your ability to remanence. You would flourish at the memory of your horrific and heinous acts. I was protecting the world from your kind and hers. You are not worthy to live among us. I would have killed you both if the counsel allowed one to get away with it.”
Royce’s hands tremble against the hard floor. And her voice is a barely audible whisper. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I fucking do, and you should be grateful I even took you in. I could have left you for death. Rotting in that filth you visit when you don’t think I’m watching. Everythinghehas done to you has been deserved.”
Rubbing my palms together, the plot thickens, and excitement slithers through me as I am simply delighted.
“You killed two of the highest-ranking witches in their coven, at the university, and maybe the world. You deserve nothing but pain. A long, drawn-out suffering from my hand to your mind. Happiness was never going to be on the menu for you.” Agatha is on a roll, but perhaps she’s forgotten who I am and what Royce is to me.
I bring her tears. Ignite fear and carve self-hate into her arms.
Interjecting before Agatha attempts to stealmyshow, I spit, “But the spell was broken, and I reminisced often and held great resentment toward you, old lady. Because I always knew you had something to do with it. With our abilities ceasing to exist as they once did.” Rising to my feet, I clasp my hands together and rejoice. “And thanks to the powers that be, I am fucking free.”
Agatha scoffs, disgusted. “The white witch who mourns in the graveyard. Her fit has caused havoc upon us.”
The white witch, who is draped from head to toe in white garments and pure white hair, is someone you can go to for aid, along with another witch, who dresses in all black, but they are too unpredictable to be trusted, in my opinion, and often have a high price requested in return for such assistance.
Because several times over the long, aching years under the roof of Agatha’s manor, I would toy with the idea of going to them to help me get back what I rightfully was born with, something that was unrightfully taken. But I resisted because I knew the price would be unimaginable. Once they knew whatI desired, they would hold it against me and over me until I paid up.
The taunting and teasing would cause the temptation to run rampant, but I remain thankful that I always resisted. And now all those who tormented me while passing the manor as I played outside as a boy will get what they fucking deserve. Our time has come, and it’s too late to run.