Greta watched her baby stand for the first time. Kyle looked up at her and grinned before hoisting himself up on chubby legs.
“Come to mommie!’ she called, holding her arms out. Kyle toddled forward a bit then plopped down on the floor. Greta laughed and applauded her little prince, but her happiness was short-lived. On cue, a tiny vice called out;
“Baby fell down!”
Greta clenched her fists and took deep breaths. The bruja warned her to control her temper. The spirit plaguing them fed off anger.
“I don’t want him,” the voice snorted with laughter. “That brat could never live up to my Nathaniel.”
“Come on, Kyle,” Greta pushed down her motherly pride and ignored the voice’s insult, “try again.”
The baby was already on his feet and stood, dimpled knees locked, puzzling out his balance.
“Aww… you don’t want to talk today?” the voice cooed directly in Greta’s ear. “We were getting to be such good friends.”
“That’s my handsome boy,” Greta encouraged the child’s wobbly steps, “Come to mommie.”
“Handsome?’ the voice asked, “I have seen better looking features on a dead dog.”
“Don’t you say that about him!” Greta screamed. “Don’t you insult my son!”
Her outburst frightened Kyle and he fell to the floor, crying.
“Do not raise your voice to me, girl,” the voice growled, “or I will make you sorry.”
“Go away!” Greta continued to shout, “Leave us alone.”
“Go away,” the voice mocked, “Leave us alone. It is always the same with you weaklings. You are as boring as all the rest. “
Greta burst into tears as the voice continued to berate her and describe horrible tortures for Kyle. The child continued to cry and Greta thought her head would implode from the noise. Suddenly another voice cut through din.
“Greta! Greta stop it!” her husband stood at the door, shouting. “How can you say such horrible things about your own child?”