Torment

“Hey, Haze.” Vic stoops his oversized frame into the doorway.

His twin looks up from her book, removing her vintage bottle cap glasses and cleaning them on the bottom of her pastel sundress.

“Oh, hey Vickie.” She replaces them, slyly closing the old text she was reading from.

Vic eyes it momentarily, not showing how intrigued he is to see what mysterious text she’s had her nose buried in for the past several months.

“I cannot believe you actually got that thing.” She purposefully redirects his attention to his fresh tattoo, sliding the archaic book underneath a couple of romance novels.

Vic extends his arm, gingerly running a finger of the opposite hand along the fresh ink.

“Yeah, it was kind of spur of the moment.” Vic chuckles to himself, shaking his head at the random choice of an arrow shooting upwards into a sky depicted there in vibrant colors.
“Ever the rebellious one.” Hazel stands, walking to her brother and smacking him right on the artwork.

He winces, balling his fist and yanking his arm to his chest to protect it.

“Bitch.” He pushes his sister’s shoulder before stealing her glasses right off of her face.

“Vic!” She’s unamused, attempting to get them back as he holds them well beyond her reach.

He smiles mischievously at her failing attempts, dangling them tauntingly.She even hops up as high as she can, still no match for her brother’s massive height.
She gives up, sighing with annoyance before heading for the door. Without her glasses, Hazel’s vision is crap so she runs face first into the doorframe.

“Ow.” Her pained complaint is nazily as she pinches her nose, which stings with the beginnings of a bleed.

Vic laughs at his sister, only feeling slightly guilty for her injury. He gives her dainty back an aggressive pat, handing her very strong prescription glasses back to her.

“Jerk.” She sticks her leg in his path to trip him on his way out.

His long legs clumsily tangle as he tries to steady his balance, losing the battle and face planting on the wood floor. He sits up, mirroring his sister’s nose pinching as he’s now acquired the exact same injury.

“Okay, mom and dad will be here very soon and I am not above tattleing.” His deep voice sounds silly with the nazily effect.

“What?! You started it!” She argues down at him.
“I’ll obviously leave that part out.” He drops his hand, sniffing and wiggling his nose.

Hazel rolls her eyes, offering a hand to help her brother up. Once they’re both standing, Vic checks on his sister to see how much harm was actually done.

“No blood.” He assures, ruffling her thick Italian waves. “Sorry kid.” He drapes an arm around her, the two of them exiting the huge house’s library together.

“What do you mean you aren’t going?” Vic complains to his sister.

Hazel sits on her bed wrapped snugly in the mint green duvet.

“I’m sick.” She fakes a cough, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

The twins’ parents got home hours after they had originally planned, opting to meet at the restaurant in order to salvage their pricey reservation.

“We hardly ever see them.” Vic pleads, coming to sit next to his sister to check her temperature with the back of his massive hand.

“That’s not our fault.” Her tone hardens with disdain towards them.

The Bruni’s are very well respected doctors, but not the most present parents. Their career has always come first. The couple fly around the world taking on countless projects, which has left their children to be raised by nannies and other well paid staff most of their lives.

Vic removes his hand, giving a glum but understanding nod.

“They did say they have a surprise for us.” He baits, hoping that will entice her to come.

“Just go without me.” She burrows even deeper, falling back to rest on the bed. “But if it’s anything good, we split it.” She demands, peeping up at him over her glasses.

“No way.” He pinches an exposed portion of her leg.

She bucks to kick him, but he’s swiftly made it to his feet to dodge the attack. Vic heads out of the room, pulling a box of cigarettes from his back pocket.

“Those’ll kill you ya know!” Hazel calls after him.

“Something has to!” He retorts, placing one between his lips.

She hears the clicking of a lighter, rolling her eyes at how much enjoyment her brother gets from his small acts of rebellion. Things like smoking in the house, or getting tattoos is all he has to give him some sense of control over his own life. Vic is favored by their parents, doing exactly what they want him to do so that he can reap the financial benefits. Hazel, on the other hand, refuses to be their sheep, turning down any and every opportunity to follow in their medical footsteps.

As soon as she hears the main door close behind her brother, she sits up, shedding her blanket cocoon. The female twin is fully clothed in a tight black dress, topped with a long sleeved sheer covering. She removes her glasses as she stands, dropping the mask of her former personality and settling into the Hazel she’s truly been for months now. She disregards her glasses, dropping them to the floor and crushing them beneath her bare feet, savoring the bite of broken glass and plastic.

Her smirk is wicked as she takes gliding steps towards the library, retrieving her tether to the dark arts.

Better eyesight is just one of many petty spells she’s learned from it. But what she has planned for tonight is huge, it will lure a being from another realm strong enough to grant her all the power a witch could hope for.

With the spell book in tow, she goes downstairs to start preparing her workspace in the main room. She retrieves her altar supplies from its hiding spot, wrapped and tucked neatly underneath the grand piano bench. She unrolls it, setting up right in front of the fireplace. Once she’s done with the prep, she steps back to admire her work: altar set, fireplace and candles lit in their designated corners, necessary powders and crystals present.

Hazel opens the book in an almost intimate manner. The ancient language calls to her, singing a mystical, phantom psalm. She closes her eyes, letting her steady hands hover over the open pages and feel the immense power of the blood magic radiating from the aged paper. Her breath is cleansing, focusing her mind and energy to pour completely into her work. She starts her incantation, repeating the words with flawless conviction. Now, all that’s left is the final, most vital part of this summoning ritual.

“Mittens?” She calls, sucking her lips in a kissing sound to lure the cat.

She hears the jingling of the tiny bell Mittens wears on her pale pink collar. The plump, gray fluff ball trots in, naively nuzzling against Hazel’s legs in a show of misplaced affection. The witch squats to retrieve the animal, petting it’s head as she kneels at the altar. She soothes the cat while she reads the concluding lines, knowing it all by heart but not wanting to risk even the most miniscule mess up.

When the time is right, she picks up the steel dagger. It possesses an obscure, timeless quality, appearing both brand new and incredibly aged. She wields it with respect, letting it rest on the tips of her index fingers as she bows forward with her forehead pressed to the open spell book and blade held up to the altar. She rises, snagging Mittens before she can escape. Hazel holds the cat up with one hand, positioned over a glass gauntlet, and the dagger in the other.

The door opens abruptly, her family chatting cheerily upon entrance.

They have no idea what they’ve just intruded on.

Hazel whips her head towards them, glaring as the trio converse loudly about dinner.

“Seriously, our own house! Hazel is gonna lose it.” Vic is ecstatic, thanking his parents.

“We’re hopeful your sister will feel obliged to enroll, living so close to campus.” Mr. Bruni’s voice is deep, though no comparison is to be had with his son’s almost startling baritone.

They halt at the sight in front of them, far enough inside to have a perfect view of the ritual.

It’s too late for Hazel to stop. If she’s going to do this it must be completed right here, right now.

She keeps her gaze on her family, sadistically enjoying their looks of sickened horror as they watch her stab Mittens, dragging the knife down as the cat’s insides fall outside and it’s blood sprays her face.

Mrs. Bruni screams, a hand grabbing Vic’s head and pulling it to her like he’s still a child she wants to protect from seeing something far too mature for him.

Hazel just laughs.

A maniacal, disturbing laugh.