I lean forward on the chair, my sinister smile widening. "Getting rid of you," I murmur, my voice thin, but echoing the power of a thousand-year-old curse, "will be like ridding this world of filth."
I gently curl the fingers of my left hand. On the floor, Wendel's young limbs, the ones not already broken, are further contorted into painful, impossible angles. Wendels cries out, a horrible, choking sound of agony, tears and snot mingling with his blood.
This body, this young woman I've taken over, revels in the agony.
The screams of agony are like the anguish cries of souls burning in the pits of eternal fire.
I decide to allow them a voice. I undo the silencing spell binding their lips. Instantly, curses and guttural pleas rain out.
Al strains violently against the binding, his eyes bloodshot with hatred. "Let him go, you fucking bitch! I will kill you!"
His wife, Pam, tears streaming down her face, screams, "Die, you dumb bitch!"
My brow arches in genuine, cold surprise. I tut, shaking my head. "Here I thought you would beg me to let him go," I say. "Even when your son is about to die, you can't be humble and beg for mercy."
I look at the crying young man. "Wendel," I say, pity thin and poisonous. "Your parents don't value you enough to apologize to me and beg for mercy to spare your life."
Wendel's voice, already brittle from pain, cracks. "Mum! Dad!"
I continue the torture. I twist the joints of Wendel's fingers, one by one. Al struggles in a fresh wave of blinding fury, glaring at me.
But Pam is broken. The sight of her son's suffering finally makes her relent. Her hatred evaporates, leaving only panic and despair.
"Let him go! Please!" she yells, her voice desperate and cracking, a sound of absolute defeat. Though she is still frozen, her anguish fills the room.
I hold her gaze. "Why should I?"
"I was wrong! I was wrong!" Pam sobs, her head shaking slightly against the invisible spell holding her. "I shouldn't have spoiled him! I should have disciplined him more! I failed as a mother, just please let my baby go!" She collapses into full, desperate tears.
I hear her plea, weak and trembling, and I laugh. Not a warm laugh, but a dark, cold, and sinister laugh that fills the room with unease. "Which hand did you beat me with again, huh?" I ask, my voice sharp and unforgiving. The woman shudders under my gaze, her fear almost tangible.
Slowly, I raise my hand. Seconds pass, stretching out into something cruel and heavy. Then, like it was born from my memory, the horse whip appears, coiled and ready in my palm, the very same one used to write pain into that young woman's skin again and again.
I examine it briefly before standing. "You two took me in when I had nowhere else to go," I say, my voice steady but simmering with rage. "And you lived off everything Mother left behind." I look around this house, the walls, the furniture, the land, all paid for by her inheritance.
I step forward, voice dripping with scorn. "But did I even get a proper meal here? No. This house, this property, all were paid for by my money, all of it!" My eyes lock onto Pam, my voice drops low as I crouch before her. "Tell me, would it be acceptable if it were your own son who was forced to live in a wooden shed, even with an inheritance waiting for him?"
She answers tremblingly, "No, no, I was wrong."
I lean in closer, voice cold and merciless. "You made me eat your leftovers, if you even bothered to feed me. You beat me for wearing eyeliner. You accused me of stealing your money—my money." I laugh hollowly. "How ridiculous."
Grabbing her greasy hair, I yank her head up, meeting her blood stained face. "I'm going to give you back every single sting, every bruise, every scream you caused... one hundred times over."
Then, I slam her head hard against the floor worsening the injury on her head. Rising, I force Pam's hands into the same cruel position she forced on that little girl. Raising the whip, I strike.
Each lash echoes the long-buried agony in the dark memories... the ache, the fear, the helplessness. The whip cracks louder and sharper with every blow, cutting through the air. Blood blossoms across her skin, tears mixing with her cries. Bones crack beneath my fury. She doesn't run. She can't. She cowers, a dying beast caught in endless torment.
Breathing hard, I step back, the heavy weight of satisfaction settling inside me. My hair, crusted with mud and sweat, falls from my face as I curl my fingers into a fist and hurl the nearest chair.
It crashes against Al's back, his curses turning into groans of pain, and for once, silence falls in the room, shattered only by the broken wood at his feet.
I point directly at Al, ignoring Pam's wretched tears. "And you," I hiss, the malice pure and venomous. "You are my uncle, my only living relative, yet you treated me no better than a stray." My smile is now a horrifying rictus. "Ha ha ha. I will make you wish—no, beg for death."
My emotions are no longer entirely my own; the spectral witch's bitter hatred fuels the fire in my veins. I force Al's head up with a subtle lift of the spell, making his bloodshot eyes lock onto his son.
Wendel, who is already half-dead from the previous torture, is lifted into the air by the unseen force. I break every joint in his body, his fingers, his toes, his neck, everything twists into impossible, unnatural angles. The sickening sounds of cracking fill the room.
Pam is screaming in the background, a sound of pure, maternal agony. Al is begging me to stop, his voice a guttural plea. But I don't stop. I won't. The ghost's satisfaction is a dizzying, intoxicating wave. It is only when Wendel draws his last, rattling breath that his lifeless body drops to the floor with a heavy, final thud.
I turn around, my gaze eerie and disconnected, and look at Pam. She is hysterical. "My baby! My poor baby!"
"How about you join him?" I suggest, my voice flat. "I'm pretty sure he needs company."
"No! No! No!" Pam screams, but her plea is useless.
I make her suffer the same fate, forcing Al to watch as the other person closest to him perishes. Pam's stocky body is twisted and her limbs contort until she, too, dies with a horrifying, frozen expression of pain.
Al's pleas turn to silence, swallowed by the nightmare I've unleashed.