Evelyn had always been a shadow over my life. But in recent years, that shadow had grown darker, more menacing. What started as subtle manipulations, whispered doubts, and quiet interference had turned into something far more sinister. There were things I could not explain, strange occurrences that followed her visits, feelings of dread that crept over me every time she was near. And then, there were the dreams.
The first time I dreamt of her, I was pregnant with our son, Caleb. I saw her standing over me in the dark, her face shrouded in shadow, her eyes glowing with malice. In the dream, she was holding a knife, slowly lowering it towards my unborn child, her expression twisted into something I had never seen before—hatred. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. I brushed it off as a nightmare, a figment of my fears and worries about becoming a mother. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than that.
Ethan tried to comfort me, telling me it was just my hormones, that I was overthinking things. But I knew better. Something about Evelyn’s presence unsettled me, and I had seen too many signs to ignore it any longer. After that dream, I kept my distance. I kept her at arm’s length during my pregnancy, making excuses, avoiding visits. I didn’t want her near my child, even before he was born.
Then came the second pregnancy. I was seven months along when Evelyn visited our home. I had tried to avoid her, but Ethan insisted. "She’s your mother-in-law," he said. "She has a right to be involved in our lives." He didn’t understand. He didn’t see what I saw. I relented, for his sake, but the moment she stepped into our home, something shifted. It was as if the air itself grew heavier, thicker.
That evening, I started cramping. Pain shot through my abdomen, sharp and relentless. Blood. I was bleeding. Panic set in, and Ethan rushed me to the hospital. The doctors said I was lucky. They couldn’t explain why the cramping and bleeding had started, but they managed to stop it before it could harm the baby. Still, I knew. The moment Evelyn left our home, the pain subsided. It was no coincidence.
I tried to tell Ethan, but he wouldn’t hear it. His mother had a hold on him, a deep bond that I couldn’t break. He was torn between the evidence and his love for her, and I couldn’t blame him. But I knew what I felt, what I had seen, and I was done allowing her near our children.
When our daughter, Emma, was born, I made a decision. I went home to my mother for help with the newborn, surrounded by the love and protection that had always been my family’s strength. My mother and sisters prayed over Emma, blessing her, placing a hedge of spiritual protection around her. I knew that Evelyn would come, that she would insist on seeing her granddaughter. But this time, I was prepared. I had prayed, I had asked God for protection over my child, and I would no longer allow her darkness into our home.
Ethan, distraught and confused, pleaded with me to let his mother visit. "She just wants to help," he said, his voice strained. "She’s your mother-in-law. You can’t keep her away from our children forever."
But I had made up my mind. "She can visit," I said, "but she will never hold Emma. Not this time." I didn’t explain further. There were things he would never understand, not as long as he was under her spell. I loved him, but I couldn’t trust him to protect us from her.
One morning, I heard a knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and when I opened the door, my heart sank. There stood Evelyn, dressed impeccably as always, holding a large gift bag in her hands. She smiled that thin, knowing smile of hers—the one that never quite reached her eyes—and swept past me into the house before I could say a word.
Ethan appeared in the hallway, looking surprised. “Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
She waved her hand dismissively, as if her sudden, unannounced arrival was of no consequence. "Oh, I told you I’d visit this week, didn’t I? And since I haven’t heard anything from either of you, I figured it was time to meet my granddaughter."
I shot a look at Ethan. He looked confused, but there was something off in his expression. I had the sinking feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.
Later that evening, I confronted him. "Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?" I demanded. "We agreed she wouldn’t visit without discussing it first."
Ethan hesitated, his eyes shifting away from mine. "I didn’t know she was coming today," he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He was lying. I knew him too well to miss the signs.
"Don’t lie to me," I said quietly, my heart pounding. "You told her she could come, didn’t you? You gave her permission to just show up."
His silence was the only answer I needed. I felt a cold wave of betrayal wash over me. He had conspired with his mother, allowing her to come into our home without my knowledge, without my consent. I turned away from him, anger and hurt boiling up inside me.
Evelyn’s visit was not an act of love—it was an intrusion, another move in the game she was playing. She had won Ethan over, once again, and now she was here, uninvited, to stake her claim over our lives.
But even she couldn’t have anticipated what happened next.
When she reached out to hold Emma, she hesitated. Her hands, always so steady, trembled as she cradled the baby. I watched as a strange look crossed her face—confusion, followed by something darker. She quickly handed Emma back to me, as if she couldn’t bear to hold her any longer. I noticed her rubbing her hands together, almost as if they were burning.
She didn’t say anything, but I could see the discomfort in her eyes. Every time she tried to hold Emma after that, it was the same. Her hands would flinch away, and she’d pass the baby back as quickly as she could. I knew what was happening. The hedge of fire around Emma was real. Evelyn couldn’t touch her—couldn’t harm her. God’s protection was stronger than anything she could conjure.
She stayed for two days, claiming she had planned to visit all week, but by the end of the second day, she abruptly left. She made excuses, saying she had things to do, but I knew the truth. She couldn’t handle the presence of my daughter, the one thing she couldn’t manipulate or control.
Ethan was distraught, torn between his love for his mother and the growing distance between us. He didn’t understand what had happened, didn’t believe me when I told him that Emma was protected by something greater than us. But deep down, I knew that even if he couldn’t see it, Evelyn could. And that knowledge would keep her at bay—for now.
But as I watched her retreat from our home, I knew this wasn’t the end. The serpent’s bite had failed this time, but she would return. She always did.
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