The Devil’s Dollhouse

The Devil doesn't return souls. But Grandmama Rue forgot to tell her recruits this. Broken souls with unhealed wounds served her purpose best. These types don't need much to get by. 

Throw one a little crack cocaine at one, and a few dollars to that one, and they are down to hunt. 

Grandmama Rue also groomed her youngest granddaughter, Beatrice, on how to seduce and finesse using her feminine prowess. Just one of her many motherly skills she chose to pass down. The streets whispered about how Beatrice used sex as her weapon to get her way.

“If you want to be a part of this coven, this is how you do it!” Grandmama Rue’s words rang in the back of her mind, just as it was supposed to. 

The binding spells Grandmama Rue perfected over lifetimes were always so powerful. Many wouldn’t suspect this, given her religious image. You see, Grandmama Rue never missed a Sunday service, a Bible study, or a church revival. 

She cared a ton about how others saw her. For anyone outside of her coven to see her true face would kill her. So over a lifetime, she perfected the ritual of cloaking oneself in the energy of pure souls to seem innocent in the eyes of the sleeping.

The church ladies said Rue’s house carried a smell — not of food, but of something burnt and wrong.

They said prayers didn’t stick there.

So when one of them mentioned a seer over on Clayborn Street, Lila’s mama went, hoping someone, anyone, could explain her mother’s madness.

Once, Lila’s mama went to visit a local seer in the community who was said to be able to see into many spiritual realms. “Your mother was a demon in many past lives, so she is only doing what she knows.”

Lila’s mother’s eyes widened as if she knew, but…

“Oh yes!” The seer was a mystic of few words, but her energy said all it needed to! “A curse was placed on the maternal bloodline a long time ago. This entity jumps from vessel to vessel and brings death to every life it comes in contact with.”

“What do you mean it brings death?” Lila’s mother was too shocked to move but was ready to go!

“It uses the vessel to curse those around with chants, both spoken aloud and in the mind. For example, this demon needs to keep its prey near and, if successful, bind them using the spoken word or whatever ritual it chooses. I see your mother constantly speaking curses over all those near.”

“How does this benefit this demon?” At this time, Lila’s mother was halfway out the door, shaken with fear that almost made her piss herself.

“For example, I got an image of her standing over a bassinet and chanting, 'May love and happiness never find her. May every man abandon her, and may she fall into despair. Now she will never be able to leave me!” The room stood still as Lila’s mother took it all in. “Her chess move is to make sure those whose energy she needs to manifest are never in a position to use it for themselves. She BINDS her food, and this is how she stays alive and…she gets very dark with some of her curses.”

“I’ve heard enough.” Lila’s mother left as he cab arrived with nothing to say. She would keep this revelation to herself.

So the conversations about Grandmama Rue being an old Black Widow witch were right! After all, all five of her husbands died, and she was now on husband number six.

This all worked in her favor, until…Lila!

But every curse has a limit — and Lila was born to break it. 

Folks in the neighborhood said Rue raised that girl right.

Always clean, always in church, always quiet.

But behind those curtains, Rue wasn’t raising Lila — she was breaking her.

Leaving the house became forbidden, unless it was for school or church. Even then, she had to plead to be allowed to go to school dances with friends.

Boys are out there, and they will get you pregnant! This was Grandmama Rue’s favorite reasoning as to why she kept Lila locked in the house. Other family members were also instructed not to let Lila outside if she was dropped off at their homes. Lila didn’t understand why Grandmama Rue treated her like this, and at first, it felt like she really cared about her future. After all, both her mother and Grandmama Rue were teenage mothers. 

Tales of single motherhood being so hard were always told whenever they saw Lila even standing near a boy.

Grandmama Rue took her anger out on Lila through physical abuse whenever she came home mad.

Lila was made to be a servant — cooking, cleaning, and serving everyone in the house.
A verbal and sometimes physical punching bag. And when that stopped working, slandering one’s name and image was her specialty. The more she could get others to see you in a horrible light, the more it played in her favor. The textbook narcissist’s move.

The abuse got worse after Lila confided in a fellow church member about what was happening at home.

Nobody did much besides tell her to turn the other cheek. So she learned early that silence was safer than the truth.

Once a concerned member confronted Grandmama Rue, she did what she always did — made others see things her way.

She painted Lila out to be a fast-tail rebel. But Lila wasn’t even allowed to go outside or breathe next to a boy.

What Rue didn’t say was that Lila’s “rebel side” was a form of protection — a way to survive walking on eggshells every day.

She was growing tired of being shut away, after once knowing what freedom felt like.

NM