Sons of Liberty University | Hamilton College AU

Chapter 43 - Damned Spirits

TW: Sexual assault, blood, witchcraft, hot chicks named Victoria

Maria

I began seeing him in the hallways in the last year of High School. At least I could blame it on the fact that he went there and that I could count on the fact that he would be going to Florida for college. But now, I saw him following me everywhere I went.

He was always clenching his fists while holding a bouquet of blood-red roses. He looked so angry and so hurt every single time.

And the blood trail dripping down the side of his face

But the thing that disturbed me the most was when I heard his voice.

"Maria... Come back to me, baby... I promise I won't do it again."

I was sitting alone in my dorm room when I heard it. I used to hear his voice as a soft cello thrumming in my chest, whispering honeyed words into my ear, letting me drink in his presence like a cold glass of scotch.

Now, it sounded like iron nails scraping against a chalkboard.

My blood ran cold, and the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up like spikes. A cold hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed harshly. The touch, though cold and unforgiving, burned like hellfire against my skin. I jumped up and whirled around.

He was looking at me in a way that made me want to vomit.

"Maria," he breathed, his whisper shaking me to my core. His sickening grin grew wider with every moment, exposing his blood-stained teeth. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What have you done?"

"J-James?" I said in horror. "B-but you... I-I saw you--"

He let out a dark chuckle. "Yes, you did," he said, his breath hot against my neck.I couldn't move, no matter how much I struggled. "But you seem to have forgotten something love." He pressed his cold, dead lips against my ear and said, "I promised I'd never leave you."

He clawed at my skin, dragging his nails across my chest and squeezing my breasts roughly. Tears streamed down my face as I realized how truly powerless I was at this.

"Leave me alone," I squeaked as he kissed my jaw-line roughly. "I'm not your toy!"

"That's what you think," the damned spirit of my dead boyfriend said, his hands slowly drifting downwards. He bit down on my neck, and I gasped at the sudden flood of memories of him beating and torturing me. "But you're everyone's toy, love. You're just a slut. MY slut."

I squeezed my eyes shut as he pushed my immobile body onto the bed and ripped my button-up shirt off roughly, exposing my black sports bra and inked black pentagram tattoo directly on my heart. He sucked on my neck roughly, making me squirm. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think of what I could do.

This was James's spirit. It must've escaped from the soul bind I placed on him. What could I do to combat this--"

"SHIT!" James yelled, then jumped off of me. The shape of my tattoo, a large pentagram, was burned into his dead flesh, crisping more and more with every second. He moaned in pain and pressed against it.

And then I realized what I had to do.

Free of the spell he had put on me, I yanked out my bedside table's top drawer and fished around until my hand closed around something round and metal. I pulled it out and stood up and ran towards him and pressed the pentacle against his forehead. He let out an inhuman scream, writhing and burning until all that was left of him was a pile of ashes on the carpet.

I dropped the pentacle into the ashes for good measure. They let out a final whomp of hot air upwards, then did nothing else.

"Um... what just happened?"

I jumped at the sound of my roommate's voice. She was a very pretty African American woman named Victoria.

I let out a little giggle in shock. "My boyfriend's damned spirit escaped from its bind and decided to terrorize me, nothing much."

Victoria stifled a snort. "Well," she said, not containing her grin. "Let's clean house. I'll get the broom, you get the vacuum, we'll run down to Aradia's place and get a wall pentacle, it's all good?"

"Yep," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Just another day of being a witch, am I right?"

"You make it sound so casual," she joked, grabbing the broom from the broom closet. "Just like, 'oh, I almost just got killed and possessed by my dead boyfriend, derp deh dur!'"

I laughed. "You can't blame me, man. It was traumatizing."

"Sounds like it."

(I am aware that this is weird. Just... Just roll with it.)