Hannah was dead. Jack could tell because he'd heard the wicked witch chanting right before his older sister had sank first to her knees, then to all fours and finally slumped over. Blood oozed from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears pooling beneath her face. She wasn't moving, not even a little. She had to be dead.
Jack hoped. He didn't want to think about her suffering.
Jack hadn't been able to move either once the witch started her chant only he'd been sitting when it started so he hadn't fallen like Hannah. He was pretty sure he wasn't bleeding but he couldn't tell, not for sure.
What he knew was that he was going to kill the witch. He'd rip out her evil heart and watch the eerie light fade from her eyes. She'd claimed earlier to be over two hundred years old. Jack vowed she wasn't getting any older than tonight.
As soon as he could move.
"Don't strain yourself." The witch crooned over her shoulder. "There is nothing you can do." She was prancing through the kitchen wearing just an orange skirt that did more to call attention to her voluptuous curves than to offer even an illusion of modesty. The bottoms of her bare feet were coated with blood and left a trail on the floor that looked like one of those 'how to dance' diagrams. She started dumping the cabinets out onto the floor while continuing her destructive dervish dance and moving on to the pantry and fridge. "I fo-o-o-o-und it!" The witch exclaimed bending at the waist and scooping up a heart shaped pendant that had fallen from a box of Kashi brand cereal.
She twirled on tip toe all the way back across the room and leapt gracefully onto the table looking down at Jack. "That was a really good hiding place. Did you think of it yourself? Don't answer." He wouldn't have even if he could.
It wasn't whatever spell she'd cast on him that held his tongue, it was genuine ignorance. When his parents had died in a car accident two years ago they he'd moved out of his apartment and back into the five bedroom house. The house had been in the family for over seventy years so selling it was out of the question and even if it hadn't been it was
his
, left to him in the will.
"Do you know what this is?" She plopped down on the table spreading her legs indecently wide and staring him in the face. Under normal circumstances this would have been a dream come true, a chocolate hued woman with a body like a goddess wearing nothing but a skirt. Right now she was a terror to behold and her spell didn't stop his heart from trying to beat its way through his ribs. "You don't do you?" She gently pressed her bare blood soaked foot Jack's face and leaving a perfect five toed imprint on the right side of her face. "Of course not, if you did. . ." She trailed off. "Get up, I want to get a better look at you."
Jack wasn't in control of his body. It was the strangest sensation to feel his body standing up all by itself. He couldn't fight it, he couldn't even scream. "Well that's a good boy. Big and muscly, momma likes." The woman grabbed Jack's shirt by the collar and violently tore it open sending buttons shooting across the room. In a single motion she ripped the fabric from his skin and returned her attention to Jack.
He wasn't spectacular, he didn't have massive pecs or chiseled abs. Instead he had the very average body of young man blessed with a fairly good metabolism and a fairly lazy life. "I was hoping for a little better." She cooed before raking her painted black nails down his chest leaving angry red scratches in their wake. "But you'll do." She leaned forward and kissed his nipples one after the other, then bit down.