Maybelyn and Tom met when they were 16 at a theatre for a cheap horror film.
Tom claimed it was love at first sight, but May; as he called her, disagreed, saying Tom was quite the animal, and she was not attracted at first.
"Stop it! You're embarrassing me!" Maybelyn would yell and playfully slap Tom's chest as he would sing in the streets like a maniac how much he loved her.
Maybelyn believed it for awhile, but she was still firmly planted in the dirt of doubt.
There was so much unknown to mankind, and unnatural things that no one believed, and many thought she was crazy.
Maybelyn has been convinced since a young age that spirits are real, claiming visitations from the ghost of her grandfather, but her parents denied, and so did everyone else, and everyone called her crazy, which is the reason she doubted Tom's love and adoration, for surely it was all a joke to lead her on, and the big reveal would come one day that he would admit he was pulling her chain all along, and it was entertaining to see her start to believe the lie that somebody could actually love her.
When in reality, he had never seen a ghost, but believed her fully and was attracted to all the same unnatural things she was, and could hold hours of conversation regarding anything they could discuss of unnatural things or he would read her spells out of books and she would try them with her wand, and everyone knew them to be unstoppable.
So they had a child; Tom hoping that this would finally be the proof he needed to show Maybelyn he'd been in love with the weird girl who spoke to ghosts and talked to gravestones more than people; that he'd been in love with her the whole time.
She, however, didn't care much anymore though, because she had her beloved son, a child she knew was born with no biases, phobias or judgements, and knew her motherly love would keep him safe.
Tom and May raised their son on comics, lore books and horror movies, and after Tom died, Mitchell took those things quite too seriously.
It started off alright, he wouldn't take off his super hero costumes for two weeks, but Maybelyn found that perfectly acceptable because they weren't leaving the house any time soon anyways.
Maybelyn wasn't afraid of the devil's traps drawn in crayon around her son's bed, or the curses he muttered under his breath that weren't nearly swear words.
In fact, she understood him, and thought that his father was visiting him, much like her grandfather did to her, and she might have even hoped his father did, proving she wasn't still the crazy 9 year old she had been made out to be.
Sometimes Mitchell had night terrors, and he denied the comfort of his mother who noticed she was slowly losing grip of her son, and the position of loving, caring, comforting mother, and transitioning to the annoying, nagging, embarrassing mother.
So, she wasn't really surprised when she found weapons in between his mattress and box spring, in his laundry, and in his dressers.
She didn't pay mind much to the swastika's on his shirtsleeves, in his notebooks or on his walls, and that's probably where she went wrong. When the devils traps around his bed were cleaned off, Maybelyn should have seen the red flags and heard the alarms going off.
Shortly after the swastika's, she found more terrifying things, and couldn't stand that she let her son off for so many years with bad habits and paths that she can't help but feel guilty for, being the one to introduce him into the unnatural and violent world that not many people would believe or tolerate.
Hex bags started appearing around the house, along with books of dark potions and summoning recipes; each unidentified bone terrifying her even more.
When he was 17 she tried to talk to him, a soft confrontation ought to get him back into line, or so she thought.
Instead he screamed and raged at her, showing a frightening rage she had never seen before, along with an example of the violence she would experience if she told anyone about who he had become; his threatening way of terrifying her into submission.
So, for a few years she didn't know what to do, but try not to get in the way.
She cried at the sight of the dead animals, but also hoped that was the only thing he was hurting and not what she feared.
Around his twentieth birthday she knew she needed a way to get out of his authority.
She knew he wasn't her son anymore, but a killer, and he was, with no doubt, holding her hostage.
She romanticised the idea of outright running away, but he was clever like his father, and would be able to find her, and who knows what he would do to her when he found her.
She thought of going to the police, but again, ultimately he would find her, and she would end up in ribbons like the poor animals.
She hadn't slept much in years; crying herself to sleep the nights she did.
The one idea Maybelyn had was to summon the spirit of his father, which she dreaded for years after he died, for the sole idea that his spirit would reveal the truth finally, or his spirit would be vengeful and hurt her to side with Mitchell, but it was the only idea she had and hoped for the best; but much to her doubt, as constantly before, he told her just what to do.
"If you escape, he will kill people. He won't hold back anymore because the sole person who holds his secret is out there and could reveal him at anytime, and he best be getting his bidding done.
"You need to fight, May. Learn counter curses, make your own hex bags, read the lore defences, protect yourself with charms, make holy water, use salt, spells, any witchery, magic, or unnatural things you can think of" he had shared, and she nodded and took notes.
"Get the public into your house so you can slip someone the truth that our son is holding you hostage" he said, and that line stuck with her for awhile.
Now being twenty two, Mitchell ran the house and Maybelyn did as he told.
Maybelyn hoped opening the house as a mystic shoppe would relay to Mitchell that she was giving him the nod of agreement to dive into dark magic, even though she truly was afraid.
So she did her studying in the books she told herself she'd never touch, and she was ready.