He kills anyone who wrongs us.
It started when I was little. My mother was on the brink of a divorce with my father when I was only 3. One night when he was intoxicated he came into my room to try and take me into the car by force. When my mother saved me and locked me in her room my dad left. He got into a crash with a semi that killed him on impact 5 minutes later.
Growing up, I always knew something was wrong with me. My mother would always say she loved me, that I was her world. But, underplaying her tone was a hoarse settlement of regret and.. perhaps hatred if I read too much into it. In third grade, a kid named Travis bullied me. Simple schoolboy teasing and nitpicking. One day, he tried to pants me in front of the class at recess but a teacher saw and stopped him. He was diagnosed with Leukemia 4 days later and died within the year.
I never understood why anyone who hurt me; whether he physically or emotionally died. We had a dog that bit me when I was 10, it got hit by a car later that day. I was sad, because I loved that dog despite it hurting me. My room had a mirror, and when I went to wipe my eyes full of tears that’s when I saw it.
It was a tall void-like creature, hunched over. It had no face, just a long body and long arms and claws. One of the claws rested gently on my shoulder. And my first instinct was to scream but no sound came out when I opened my mouth. A gentle shushing sound whispered in my eardrums and I knew I could never speak about it again.
As I shifted into my teenage years I became more rebellious. I had a lot of shitty boyfriends who abused me, mentally and physically. Most ended up dead within the couples of weeks of our petty breakup. When I turned 18, though, it all changed.
People who hurt me lived on just fine. Mean girls in college didn’t get effected and if a coworker was rude to me their life went on just as normal. I decided to take a risk and look into the same mirror. I drove over to my moms house and hung out with her for a little, and when she went to use the restroom I walk to my old room, peering into the mirror.
There wasn’t anything. No dark and hollow beast lurking behind me. Nothing. Maybe I was finally free if it’s curse, to be bound to it in some way shape or form. I’m 26, married and I’m having my first child, on my second trimester, and things are going great.. until this month.
I walked into our bathroom and was getting ready for bed, when I saw him standing behind me. I quickly looked down, gasping lightly as I held my breath. I felt cold claws lay against my stomach. I hear a voice whisper in my ear, the same one I heard when I was 10.
“Child..” it rasped, before flickering out of sight. The next morning i drove to my mother’s, demanding to know what was going on. She sighed and settled me down to explain,
“Your great grandmother was involved with witchcraft and spirituality.” She began, “She made a pact with a demon; protect the women of her bloodline past her and hurt anyone who wrongs them; in turn they dispute their undying loyalty to it.” She said, shuddering slightly. My mouth gapes in disbelief,
“Why haven’t you told me before? Why now when I’m about to have my son?” I ask, tears staining my eyes. My mother casts me a sad look.
“Because he is going to kill your baby.”
I stare in confusion, “What do you mean he is going to kill him?”
“He only stayed around me whenever I was about to have you,” She explained, trying to keep me calm, “I had an emergency C-Section, I almost died due to the amount of blood I lost that day. Since your baby is a male, he will most likely kill it before or during birth if he causes you any complications.”
I tense, I say goodbye to my mother and leave. When I get home I invest with a priest to get the house blessed next Tuesday. I’m still sitting here waiting for them to come. I’m scared. I don’t want my son to die.
God, please protect my baby.
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