Maybe a witch

I was twenty-two when I met Helena Ashcroft.
She was eighteen-pale, quiet, and hopeless at mathematics.
I believed I fell in love with her.
Then came the dreams.
The whispered prayers beneath the oak.
The herbs she called tea.
The blood upon an ancient stone.
The headache no physician could explain.
The bracelet she begged me never to remove.
Perhaps they were only coincidences.
Perhaps I mistook obsession for the supernatural.
Or perhaps...
She really was a witch.
This is the story of the only woman I ever feared to love-and the question that has haunted me ever since.