Katelyn and The Witch Party

Chapter 1: Victoria

            Victoria lay lifeless against the polished linoleum floor with her arms limp on either side of her. Her short blonde hair was scattered around her head where her head had hit the floor moments before. Like usual, she wore a blush pencil skirt with a white blouse, short-sleeved blazer, and a pair of black stiletto high heels. Her glass pink pendant necklace hung from her neck, exposed as it lay still intact on her chest. The swirling pink gas inside slowly faded away, even as the rest of the room lay petrified. The white china teacup with the delicate pink rose on it that Victoria had drunk from moments before sat on the table upon a small white plate rimmed with gold. Even Victoria's grey eyes were frozen open, unblinking.

Katelyn had never seen a corpse before, but she knew that they did not look that peaceful. It was like a romanticized version of reality playing out before her. It had to be the magic laughing at them, so calm at its own defeat even when it was heralded as so dangerous.

Mrs. Valedette's hand still hovered frigid against the handle of Victoria's sparkly handbag from when she had restricted Victoria from grasping her inhaler. Mrs. Valedette's mouth was slightly opened, and her gentle brown eyes were wide with shock as if she could not quite grasp what had happened and as if she did not know what she had done. Her other hand was frozen against the pleats of her short green brocade skirt into which she had tucked her tight black sequinned shirt. 

Mr. Valedette stood across from her opening and closing his mouth as he furiously tried to find something to say. Perhaps, he wanted to accuse her but was too afraid. He had always listened to her and always trusted her no matter what she did, but this was different. There was no denying that Victoria was gone and that nothing they did would bring her back nor any possibility of denying that it was their fault. Mr. Valedette was at least complicit with Victoria's death if not directly involved. Mrs. Valedette had triggered Victoria's asthma intentionally, and then she had prevented her from reaching her inhaler.

"She was a witch," was all Mrs. Valedette offered as an excuse. Mrs. Valedette hated everything about witches as her parents had and their parents before them. She was taught that they were the enemy and would hurt her, but as she looked at Victoria lying on the floor something seemed to catch in her throat. She had killed her in cold blood. "She would have hurt us." Mrs. Valedette dragged her pale hands together and shifted between her feet nervously.

"I know she was a witch," Mr. Valedette responded, his gaze tracing his wife's hands.  There was pain in his eyes as if he could not quite meet those of his wife. Maybe, he had not known what she would do and had not wanted it. He ran his hands through his greying brown hair and then looked down at Victoria sorrowfully and almost shamefully. He closed his eyes, and his hand found the rolled up form of the newspaper he had been reading earlier that day. "Witches creep behind the eyes of strangers," was plastered across the front page with 'page 37' scrawled in the top right-hand corner directing to where the story continued within.

Katelyn remained affixed to her place, staring into the unblinking eyes of her former babysitter. She had liked Victoria, although she would never openly admit it as she had thought her former babysitters had instilled in her a lasting grudge against all babysitters. In addition, Victoria had been a witch, and everyone hated witches. Katelyn had known Victoria was a witch for some time, but Victoria had said that it did not matter that much. Surely, if it had mattered Katelyn's parents should have known. But how could they have known and then only care now? And why could they not have just fired Victoria and sent her somewhere else if they were so afraid of her? Instead they had done the irreversible and unmerciful. They had killed her. 

Katelyn could say nothing. In her parents' presence, she felt like she had to sympathize with them and pretend that she had detested Victoria like all the other babysitters, perhaps even more so, as she had been doing, yet the conscience within her told her that she had to say something and defend Victoria somehow.