Spellbound

Original Edition: Nineteen

I sat curled up on the couch with a fire crackling in the fireplace. To some it might look like a lonely Friday night, but this was where I preferred to be. Archer was having dinner with Soren, a meal I'd gladly skipped out on, and I'd been reading the tome for an hour. I was becoming more and more disgusted with Amity Fox, and at the risk of sounding as cruel as her, I was glad to see that she was beginning to grow old.

The woman was pure evil, but in the later entries, it became clear that she also held a bit of a scientific mind when it came to the boys. Once a year in February, she took them into town, bought them the outfit they would wear for the next twelve months, and had their picture taken. Each grainy photograph was set side by side for the next forty years with a side note that reads:

From my calculations, these monsters age one year for every six human years.

It was interesting to see how she came to that conclusion. Although the boys always wore somber expressions in the pictures, I enjoyed looking at them as toddlers. It rattled me a bit to see them remain the same height with faces rounded by baby fat for so long, but it was the last entry from Amity that I found the most disturbing.

August 8, 1922

My days are dwindling to an end. I have held on to life for as long as possible, fearing to hand my daughter the horrid fate imposed upon me. Her life has been blessed and she has raised children of her own without the suffering I have endured. Upon my death, she will inherit the Hotel Reynard and all the problems which come with it. As she has also past the prime of her life, I've made accommodations for the monsters to keep them from under her feet. They behave as five-year-old boys, and that constant energy will be too much for her to bear. Their new home in the woods should serve her well.

Maybell, Amity's daughter was not quite as active as her mother in her journal entries. For the most part, she didn't seem to care much for the boys or even acknowledge their existence. But she did keep to the tradition of taking them into town once a year for their picture. Maybell was only with the twins for five years before her passing.

Maybell's daughter Stella died before she was given the Reynard, so it went to her granddaughter Betty. Betty was three months pregnant when she took ownership of the hotel. And I didn't even need to read her entries to know that she was a terrible person. She despised the existence of her very own daughter, my great-aunt.

I read the first entry by her mother which started with one heartbreaking line. I despise those boys even more than I do my daughter.

My stomach turned, and a wave of nausea swept over me. How horrible; no matter what bitchy things my mother said to me or how apathetic my dad could be, I don't think they'd ever say something so heartless. Compared to my female ancestors, my parents were angels sent down from God Himself. Against my better judgment, I kept reading.

For years, I thought they were the bane of my existence; then Hazel came along and rivaled my disgust for them. She sucks the life from me, pulling my attention from my beloved sons. I never wanted another child, and I certainly did not want a daughter.

I wish she'd never been born.

Unable to stomach another word of Betty's inner monologue, I slammed the book shut and took a ragged breath. The air in the suite was stuffy, and I felt trapped in my own skin. I needed out before the walls closed in on me.

Pulling a sweater over my head, I rushed through the hotel and toward the back porch, pushing down the roiling in my gut. I wasn't sure where I was headed; I just knew I had to get away.

Hazel's childhood must have been terrible. She was the kindest soul I knew, and didn't deserve an ounce of the animosity her mother had for her, and neither did two young boys.