Chapter 25

By

Brynn Morgan

Copyright © 2023 by – Brynn Morgan – All Rights Reserved.

It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

Chapter 25

"Your sisters?" Emily asked, curiosity piqued.

Clarissa nodded her head and explained, "Not my actual sisters. I do not have a biological sister, only a brother. I refer to my coven as my sisters."

Lainie's eyes widened in surprise. "You are a witch?" she asked.

Clarissa nodded again, an understanding dawning. The crystals at her altar, the gemstones she always carried, and the vision where the spirit attacked from miles away all made sense now, not to mention her peculiar behavior at the house.

"Yes. A young witch. I was just initiated into the coven last year. I come from an extensive line of Druids: my mother and her mother before her. It was inevitable that I would follow this path. It's in my blood. A grocery store clerk by day and a Wiccan witch by night!" she exclaimed with a hint of humor.

Davis, with a worried expression on his handsome face, asked, "Why do we need help, Clarissa?"

Clarissa, sitting down with a plunk on the brown leather ottoman in front of them, explained, "I could erect a barrier in the hallway for us to enter the room, but it was draining me of all my energy, and quickly. I felt the barrier weakening several times but held on with all the power I could muster. When those doors opened, it was because I could no longer maintain the barrier, and we needed to exit swiftly," she said.

"If I had my sisters there, we could have erected more barriers to protect us: around the stairs, the whole house. I did not protect the stairs because I lacked the strength, which is why Emily and Lainie were attacked. There was no protection. Whatever this entity is, it is incredibly powerful and thrives on rage and fear. It feeds from it," she finished ominously.

"So, when do we try to go back in there?" Lainie inquired.

"I'll make some calls," Clarissa replied. "We do not go back in there without backup. It could have been fatal for us today. Thankfully, it was not," she concluded with finality.

They decided not to read the rest of Clara's journal that night, and Clarissa left them, promising to update them as soon as she heard from her sisters.

It was Lainie's turn to put Bella to bed. She told her to put on her pajamas, and then she would come back to tuck her in. Walking down the hallway, lit only by a soft night light, she stopped when she heard talking coming from Bella's room. She froze and pressed her ear to the door, wondering if Emily was inside with her, although she hadn't seen her follow them upstairs.

Lainie quietly opened the door and peeked inside. Bella was sitting on the floor, facing the curtainless window. She turned to look at Lainie, who noticed the sketch paper and markers around her. Stepping into the room, Lainie realized there was no one else present. Who had Bella been talking to?

"Bella?" Lainie questioned, her eyebrows raised.

Bella watched as Lainie walked around the bed to her. "Who was in here just now? I heard someone talking with you."

Bella's eyes were wide, her look stressed.

Lainie squatted on the floor next to Bella and glanced at the papers. Instead of drawings, she found words that chilled her:

WHY DID YOU HURT MOMMY?

YES I AM YOUR FRIEND

I MISS MY MOMMY

Lainie felt cold chills covering her body. She gently grasped Bella's shoulders, pulling down a notepad and pen from the bed for Bella to communicate.

"Bella, who were you talking to?" she asked slowly, trying to mask her rising panic.

Bella looked blankly at her before writing. Lainie's heart raced as Bella showed her the sketchpad with two words:

MY FRIEND

"Who is your friend?" Lainie pressed, her voice barely concealing her fear.

Bella shook her head, her blue eyes filling with apprehension: I CAN'T TELL YOU.

Lainie stared deeply at her, hands cupping Bella's small face. "Why, Bella? Why can't you tell me?" she implored.

Bella wrote feverishly, the message making Lainie gasp in horror: SHE SAID THAT SHE WOULD KILL YOU JUST LIKE SHE DID MOMMY.

Terror seized Lainie, but she managed to keep her voice steady, soothing Bella's hair back from her face. "Bella, did you see who killed your mommy that day?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

Bella froze, then slowly turned the notepad back towards herself and wrote. Lainie held her breath, anticipating the answer.

YES.

The revelation shook Lainie to her core. She hated to press Bella, knowing the child had endured enough trauma, but she needed answers.

"Who, Bella? Who killed Mommy?" she asked, dreading the response.

Bella shook her head violently, tears brimming in her eyes as she buried her face in Lainie's midsection, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around her. Lainie felt her little body shaking with fear.

Realizing she couldn't push Bella further, Lainie gently kissed the top of her head, offering reassurance. "You don't have to tell me, baby. Let's get you into bed," she whispered, her voice thick with unspoken fear.

Ensuring Bella was comfortably tucked into bed, Lainie stayed by her side until she was certain the child had fallen asleep, comforted by the soft sound of her snoring and the steady rise and fall of her chest. With Bella asleep, Lainie, carrying the heavy burden of their conversation, took the notebook and left the room door ajar, ensuring she could hear any sounds from Bella's room, and went downstairs.

As she re-entered the living area, her legs trembled beneath her, and she felt as though she might collapse at any moment. Davis, noticing her pale, distressed appearance, immediately rose from his seat beside Emily and rushed over to her. Lainie sank to the floor, the papers clutched in her hand falling beside her.

"What's wrong, sis?" Davis asked, his voice laced with concern.

Holding onto his arm for support, Lainie shared her terrifying discovery. "She's bothering her, Davis! She was talking to her in her room! She threatened me, told Bella she would kill me!" Lainie's voice was filled with terror.

Davis's protective instincts kicked in. "Who is bothering Bella?" he demanded.

Tears filled Lainie's eyes as she picked up the papers and handed them to him. Emily, drawn by the commotion, knelt on the floor beside them.

Davis's concern deepened as he read the chilling words Bella had written. He looked up at Emily, aghast. "According to this, she witnessed Tristan being pushed down the stairs," he said, his voice heavy with dread. "'She said she'... who is she?"

Emily stared at the papers, then at Lainie, her face a mask of fear and confusion. "Clara? Bella? Or someone else?" she pondered aloud, her voice trembling.

Lainie, driven by a mix of fear and determination, stood and staggered to the couch, picking up Clara's journal. "What are you doing, Lainie?" Davis asked, his voice soft, yet filled with anxiety.

"I have to find out what's going on. I have to know who's scaring Bella," she declared, her voice cracking with desperation.

As Emily and Davis settled beside her, Lainie began to read aloud from Clara's journal, each word unveiling more of the dark history that haunted Hastings House.

"She is dead. The Mistress is gone. It's a boy and a girl. I hear Georgia and Paris crying for her; the babies are crying, but I am not crying, and Pen is not. We are glad that the monster is dead. The little boy died tonight, too."

"The Master left a few weeks ago, and he has not returned. The servants say he is taking her loss hard and can no longer be here. The boy died, but the girl lived."

"Georgia is mean, like her mother. She made Pen her maid in her father's absence. The Master has been gone for months, and she has taken over the household, as young as she is, and she has put me doing the laundry. I do not get to be around Pen anymore. I see Georgia use the belt on her when she does not do what she wants, or she will have one of the male servants whip her harder. The other day, she could not find anyone to administer the belt, as she calls it, and she made me do it. I tried to be gentle with Pen, but Georgia would not have it and told me that if I did not whip her harder, Georgia would beat me worse and lock me in that horrible room. She is cruel to Pen. I wish that Pen would turn on her and whip her till her back bleeds as Georgia does to Penelope, but Pen does not make a sound. I hope that Pen does not hate me and that she understands that Georgia forces me to do it. I did not do it because I wished to."

"Rumor is that the Master has remarried and that there will be a new mistress of Hastings. They are traveling here now. I hope that she will be kind."

"Her name is Catherine. She is beautiful, wearing gowns of the finest silk and colors so vibrant they light up the room. Her voice is incredibly soft, a stark contrast to the first Mistress who was dark and mean, much like Georgia."

"I like this Mistress. She has asked me to be her lady's maid and insists on me wearing lovely gowns, not liking my old dresses. She is kind to me."

"But nothing has changed for Pen. Georgia continues her cruelty, and Pen remains her maid. I confided in Catherine about the abuse, hoping she would intervene. My Mistress promised to speak with Georgia, to encourage kindness."

"My sleeping arrangements have improved. I now sleep in the nursery with London, the quiet child. Penelope still sleeps in the room at the end of the hall, her situation unchanged, sadly."

"Penelope looks at me like she hates me. She appears dreadful, no longer locked in her room at night, thanks to Catherine's orders."

"One night, I awoke to find Pen standing by my bed, staring at me with dead eyes. I am now afraid of her. Has she come to believe I've betrayed her? My life has improved under the new Mistress, but Pen wanders the halls at night, pilfering from Georgia's and Paris's rooms."

"The Mistress is pregnant, and she has voiced her concerns about Penelope, wishing for her removal from the house. She fears for her unborn child's safety around Pen. The Master refuses, insisting on keeping Pen out of Catherine's way without revealing her true lineage to his wife."

"Georgia found her belongings in Pen's room and demanded she be locked away at night again. The Master acquiesced to her demands, showing a lack of backbone."

"The Master and Mistress are traveling to Europe, leaving me torn between the desire to escape and the responsibility I feel towards Penelope. I cannot abandon her to the mercy of Georgia and Paris."

"Upon our return, Pen's condition had worsened. Shackled and confined, what has Georgia done to her now? I informed the Mistress, hoping for some intervention."

"Why does everyone despise Pen so? Even Catherine now seems indifferent to her suffering."

"Pen has been confined for days. I sneak her bread, but I can't provide water. She is desperately pounding on the door, thirsty and alone."

"The Master seeks my company again, finding me desirable. I comply, hoping his favor might improve my situation here."

"Twin girls, Ann and Elise, have been born. The house buzzes with activity, yet Penelope's plight worsens."

"Caught in the nursery, Pen was accused of trying to harm one of the twins. The Master's punishment was severe, leaving her barely able to stand."

"The tragic end came too soon. Penelope's death, ruled a suicide, has left a shadow over the house. The Master is haunted, drowning his guilt in drink."

"I find myself locked in the very room Pen dreaded, unable to escape. The door shut on its own, trapping me here. Who has done this? Catherine? James? Georgia?"

"Desperate, I write these final words. The darkness closes in, and I fear I will not survive this confinement."

Lainie closed the journal, the weight of the tragic stories it held pressing down on her. "Who imprisoned Clara in that room?" she whispered, her voice a mix of horror and despair.

Davis ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of frustration and sadness. "So, Penelope's life ended in tragedy, and now Clara's tale mirrors her fate. Were they both victims of the same malevolent force?"

Their eyes met in the dim light, a silent agreement passing between them. They needed to uncover the truth, not just for their safety but in memory of those who had suffered within these walls.

The next day, Clarissa called with news that her coven was ready to assist. A glimmer of hope sparked within them. Perhaps, with the coven's help, they could confront the darkness of Hastings House and bring peace to the tormented souls trapped within.

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