Chapter Text
Everything in that house is for you.
That simple, damning sentence has been haunting your nightmares since you had the misfortune of reading it.
You haven’t heard anything from your family since your estrangement nearly ten years ago. Truthfully, you hoped you’d never have to hear from nor see them ever again so long as you lived.
Sure, you haven’t been doing great since you left home, but it was leagues better than before–especially knowing what they wanted you to do; to become. Once you learned the truth–the full truth– you got far out of dodge and never once looked back.
It was the best damn thing you’ve ever done for yourself and no matter how shitty your life became, at least it was yours.
That was until about a month ago, when you learned your grandmother died.
You had no love in your heart for that woman and you wouldn’t have cared otherwise. However, you didn’t get the news from an obituary or a Placebook post. You were never that lucky–no– you learned about it through a single letter sent to your old apartment written in a fine, brittle hand you would’ve sold your soul never to read again.
Your grandmother, in all her wisdom and cruelty, sent you a letter before the end. Most of it was the bitter, vindictive, belittling nonsense you came to expect from her, damning you for your "betrayal" and reminding you of your weakness and how you “denied your destiny”.
Until the final page. She left you in her will, though not out of any kindness. She left you a house as punishment .
Your family, your coven, specialized in a very unique type of magic. Throughout your bloodline, your coven honed the ability to imbue objects with various types of energies. Namely, your family specialized in sealing away souls to grant the caster indefinite power over them.
The strongest of your family were even able to drain the lifeforce of whoever was sealed away to grow even stronger.
The truth of your family’s practice was the final straw for you. You left the second you were able, taking a powerful, yet damaged artifact with you.
Now ten years later, you were back.
The final paragraph of the letter taunted you. Your grandmother had always loved to gloat, you could practically see her smiling as you read it. How she probably revelled in her final moments of her life, knowing she was going to cause you pain on the way out.
Everything in that house is for you.
You knew what she meant by that.
Frankly, you hated everything about this. There was absolutely no telling how many possessed objects were in that house, and absolutely no way any of them were going to be very happy to see another witch coming to live with them.
Yet, you knew yourself well enough by now to know you weren’t smart enough to leave well enough alone.
So here you were, standing out on the porch in front of your new home.
You weren’t moving in quite yet, but you figured it was a good idea to case the joint first, at least so you knew approximately what you were getting into.
The first thing you noticed was how still the house felt from the outside, like the air and the structure itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what you’d do first. The second thing you noticed was the door, or rather, that there was someone in there, watching you.
Somewhere in your subconscious you could feel their eyes glaring down at you, analyzing, sizing you up. Your skin crawled as you fumbled for the house keys in your pocket, only for them to fly out of your palms and hit the porch.
“Shit,” you muttered, kneeling down to pick them up. As you did, you saw the bottom of the door.
There were fractures and cracks from where the wood splintered off under strain and abuse, as if someone repeatedly slammed and kicked the door shut.
You winced, that must’ve hurt.
You stood up, exhaling and idly fiddling with the keys in your hand.
“I–” You started, taking a step closer to the door before you lost your nerve, brushing your fingertips gently on the wood above the doorknob, looking up where you thought you felt eyes staring down. “I’ll be kinder to you. I promise.”
The door, or whoever was inside it didn’t answer, but you thought you felt its glare lift, if only a little. You turned the keys and pushed as lightly as you could to open the door.
The tension outside was even worse inside. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Chills ran up your arms and spine at the feeling of several dozen more eyes staring at you. Suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge to explain yourself you cleared your throat. “Um, hello?”
Silence. You imagined a bunch of faceless necks snap in your direction.
“I’m not here to hurt you, I promise.” You hated how weak you sounded, but you continued anyway. “I’m just gonna do a headcount.”
You pulled out a notepad with an inscription of a seeing spell. “This shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, uh, hit me? Or at least try to?” You said to whoever might be listening.
You took a deep breath in and held it then recited the inscription.
It felt like your skull cracked open as soon as the words left your lips, as if all the thoughts in your mind shot out like a geyser through a hairline crack.
Everything–everyone–you heard it all.
Some were speaking, talking as if they were right there in front of you like it was any other conversation, with a touch of desperation laced through words you could not hear. Others screamed and cried, howling for you to help or for you to leave.
You felt the weight of souls and spirits crowd around you, pressing down on your head and heart with a force only you could feel, like the second before a mosh pit becomes a crowd crush.
Even still you tried counting, even as your vision became foggy.
One. Two. Three.
Yet every time you got any higher than ten your brain would jolt and your chest compact, like your own soul was screaming against your body.
You couldn’t hold the spell any longer, eventually your legs gave out and you fell, knees hitting the hardwood floor with a painful thump. You coughed, spitting up a few flecks of blood as your chest rattled in pain and for a second you couldn’t breathe at all.
You clawed at your throat until your airway opened back up, heaving in every breath to your lungs greedily as if you’d never get to ever again. You reached up towards your eyes, realizing your vision had gotten blurrier because you were crying without sobbing.
You wiped your eyes and found yourself staring at the blood on the floor. “Fuck, I’m sorry–I.” Your words tumbling out of your mouth, grabbing the end of your shirt to wipe it up.
You didn’t want to find a towel in case someone was in there, but you felt someone in the floor beneath you.
“I’m sorry.” You heard yourself say, stumbling to your feet. “I–I’ll be back, I just need to.” You trailed off.
“Need to…” You croaked when you tried again. “Fuck.”
You staggered towards the door again, promising over and over that you would be back to anyone listening, and threw yourself out the door and in your car.
Everything in that house is for you.
Fuck.