Water - Part 50

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A week later you have your first big fight with Brahms since he dragged you kicking and screaming to your room an age ago.    It's fuelled partly by his refusal to believe there's anything supernatural going on, and mostly by your own fear.   

"I heard that scurrying again last night."

"Y/N, please stop this."

You glare at him indignantly.  "You think I'm imagining it?"

"I think you're overthinking it."

"Brahms, I'm not just hearing this stuff, I'm feeling it.   Don't you get it?    Elias planted something."

"I've searched every inch of this house.  I know every nook and cranny. There's nothing here."

"You think I'm paranoid?"

"Your words not mine."

"You cavalier son of a bitch!"

Brahms lifts his gaze to yours and his face is like stone.   You wait for him to speak but know he won't.   It takes a great effort to match that stare, but you do as defiantly as you dare.   You know you're overreacting but can't help it.   You want to apologise for snapping but can't do that either.   "Don't look at me like that," you continue.  "I know what you're thinking!"

"You need to calm down."

"Don't patronise me!"

Brahms looks so murderous you wonder if all the trust and bonding you've both nurtured over the past year isn't as strong as you thought.    You know how this must sound to him; but he wasn't there when Joel and Elias were messing with horrors best left alone.  Frustration gnaws at you.

"Finish your dinner, Y/N," Brahms says softly.

"Why don't you just spit it out!   You think I'm nuts.   You think shit like this doesn't exist, therefore it can't happen.  Well it can.  Don't you dare sit in judgement on me with your smug British superiority.  Something in this house is.  Not.  Right!"  You scream this last at him until the cords stand out in your neck and your face suffuses to scarlet. 

Brahms gets to his feet so violently his chair crashes to the floor.   With a final withering glance he turns then storms from the dining room.   You know where he's going and you know you've driven him there.   At a time when you need him the most, you've pushed him away.   You feel sick.

"Perhaps I am going mad," you mutter to yourself.   It occurs to you that if Elias has planted anything in this house, it's most likely something that just works on your own fears and insecurities.  "Curses," you whisper, "only work if you believe in them."

Suddenly,  there's recall of you and Joel years ago, discussing  hexes.  

"What the hell's a hex," you asked him.

"A curse, baby."

"What, like, sticking pins in a doll type thing?"

"Ah,  you need educatin'.  A hex can be anythin' you want it to be.  So long as the other person believes in it, it works."

"And if they don't?"

"It still works, just takes longer."

"What do you do?"

"Plant somethin' on 'em or where they live.  It's all about the intention, baby.  All about summonin' and conjurin'."

"Do you mean with bad intentions?"

"Sure.  What's the point of a curse if it ain't?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Why not?   Someone upset me or mine, I'm gonna send that juju out and scare 'em shitless."

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