The bell rang several times. 

Ding-ding! There goes Vespers. 

Ding-Ding! Ding-Ding! Dinner time. 

Ding Ding! Ding Ding! Ding Ding! Compline…

Behind my cell’s door the routine went on as usual. I heard footsteps, I heard women’s voices and echoing prayers and iPhone’s notification sounds, probably Val wondering about my absence. Meanwhile, I laid in my old squeaky bed immobile, face up and eyes on the ceiling, bound by terror. Expecting terror. I had been lying like this since I had had gotten back from my trip, trying to force myself to attend Compline…but I just couldn’t. I was afraid for the others and myself. I was paralyzed. Hopeless. I had even forgotten to buy the herbs and gelatin I had had promised to the abbess, for I couldn’t think of anything but Asmodeus. I found nothing good on how to rid myself of it besides weed burning and exorcist services. All bullshit. I knew deep down it wouldn’t work. It would just anger the spirit more. Disaster. The realization of what I had done and what evil I was to face simply shut my brain from functioning. I was so scared. Scarier yet was the demonic spite that played on loop in my head. 

– You have insulted me!

– You left me empty!

– You shall suffer!

– You are one ignorant nun! 

I shuddered every time I thought of the words. I couldn’t believe it. Things like this did not exist, I told myself, on loop, trying to mute the gritting voice of the demon. “Come on, Eve, get a fucking grip,” I hissed at myself. “It’s twenty-first Century. Science that has proved one could walk on the surface of the moon still can’t prove supernatural.” It was like a tug of war between fear and logic. The latter wasn’t fucking working. Not anymore. I saw what I saw. I heard what I heard. I felt what I felt. And now it was coming. I was afraid and highly stressed, ready to believe in just about anything. My body was bracing for something, every intestine, every organ shrunk and tingled. I thought of Valeria, thought of texting her. I wanted her near me so I wouldn’t be so scared next to her fearless presence. No, I stopped myself, it’s too dangerous. 

My back ached from being in one position for so long, so I turned to my right and–my heart sank into a cold pit. Two bright lights were glowing on the opposite side of the room. They stared at me, sneered at me.  Two predacious eyes. They immediately nailed me to bed, and I found myself to be actually paralyzed. Only my toes and my fingers curled from the ice that suddenly bit them. At that instant I remember wishing for the most impossible things, like for my blanket to come alive and cocoon me from outer harm. Or for the furniture to come alive and protect me. Or even for Fillip to appear and bark the demon away. I wanted to hear sounds, any sounds. The nature outside. Footsteps. Women’s voices. Text notifications. I heard them just now, didn’t I? But by that time Grand Silence had begun and the monastery was dead quiet. Not even a bug buzzed or the northern winds whistled, as if even the nature followed benedictine rules. And I wanted for the nature to disobey even its own laws. It was night, and I wanted for the sun to shine, or at least for the light from the lamps to peek under my door. One ray of light would do so much! But I was in total darkness in which glowed only the ominous flames I wished were only a figment of my deranged imagination.  

I slowly lifted myself up, my unblinking eye is hard on what’s before me. I sought for my voice that seemed to fall into a cold pit as well. 

“I was waiting,” I croaked. 

The lights glowed steadily. 

“Asmodeus,” I pronounced. 

The lights glowed brighter. 

 

“𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚙, 𝚗𝚞𝚗.”

 

It growled, a sickening blend of 4 voices: male, female, childishly high-pitched, deep and beastly. The sound was so atrocious, it made my spine shrink like an accordion. I took a labored breath to keep my brain from shrinking as well.  

“What do you want?” 

Two things happened in the next instant. Actual glowing eyes, with lava-swirling irises, appeared right in front of my nose. And a finger-like pressure, like that of a hand, gripped my neck. There was neither a hand I could see nor push away, yet the pressure grew tighter. 

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞.”

 

If earlier my heart felt into a cold pit, now it shattered. 

“No–argh–p-plea–ahem… Please–” I coughed. “I will…do…a…any…thing. I…ahem–Swear!” I pleaded, eyes watering from the strangulation. 

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍.”

 

The eyes swirled with fury. And the pressure on my neck intensified. I had to cough.

 

“𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 ‘𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎’ 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍–”

 

I kept on coughing violently, couldn’t say a word in my defense.

 

“𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜!”

 

The roaring sound – along with my body – spiraled to the ceiling, culminating in a thundering echo. When I glimpsed down, only to see my feet dangling in the air two-three feet above my bed, I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to accept the reality of my situation. 

“I…I am–” another choking cough broke in. “I…am…sorry!”

 

“𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚜, 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑!”

 

At this point I could only wheeze from the compressing pain that kept on cutting my blood circulation, draining my body of strength. My face went purple and hot, temples throbbed aggressively, and if the pressure on my neck were to tighten a fraction more, my head was surely to pop like a balloon. It seriously felt as though I was being hanged. I thought it was the end. Your demon has come, profane child. Succumb. I heard a voice in my head. It sounded like my granny. I stared at the blinding wrathful eyes. 

“You…want…to be praised, king of lust–” explosive cough erupted, “–and destruction? Do you…crave sa–satisfaction? A sssccrff…ffice in your name?” I croaked. “There is no one in…this…” I gasped. “…room besides me. Make–make do with what…you’ve…got–” My voice faltered. 

The grip decompressed so quickly, I fell down on the creaking mattress like a hot potato, head hitting the pillow precisely. Stunned, I squirmed and gasped for air like a fish thrown out on shore. 

 

“𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎. 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚘.”

 

The aura of pure wickedness and oppression (darkness too impossible to put in words) had surrounded me, drew closer and closer until it was really close. There was no doubt, the entity hovered inches above my spent body. And the two fiery eyes leveled with mine. I imagined a monster from the picture, which I had studied just hours before, standing next to my bed, leaning over me. Tears rushed like rivers down my face. 

“I have nothing else to offer you,” I sniveled. 

 

“𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.”

 

I noticed a change in its voice. The child and the beast were muted. Remained only male and female. Still terrifying, but…calmer?  

 

“𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.”

 

I could hear the mockery in its ghoulish tonality. 

 

“𝚃𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍. 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎, 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚙.”

 

So it was you...Think Genevieve, I racked my brain for a way out. What does it like? Praise. This thing likes praise. Flutter it, I told myself. Make it feel superior. Inflate its ego so that at least in some sense this thing feels full. 

“It was–impressive,” I mumbled. “Your strength is truly grand.”

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑?”

 

A gruesome laughter erupted. 

 

“𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂?”

 

Walls shook. This had to wake them up, I thought. I prayed for them to wake up. Val, abbess or anybody else. Anybody. Even Philip. Why didn't he bark!!! I prayed for anyone to come and rescue me from this literal hell. Because every second near this entity exhausted my very soul. I felt like I was being crushed by a fifty-tone concrete plate. 

 

“𝙳𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝.”

 

Immediate rage excited the entity’s voice, so I rushed to fill in, “Nothing. I know nothing.” Agree with everything it says, I told myself. And flatter. Don’t forget to flatter. “But for an insect like me, the fraction of your power is immense.” 

My response caused a reaction. The irises swirled with curiosity, or so I imagined they did, as they scrutinized me a long, paralyzing minute. 

 

“𝙰 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍’𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢? 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍.”

 

“I merely admired your power. It is striking.”

 

“𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢? 𝙳𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙?”  

 

I didn’t need to make up a lie to reply. “I haven’t seen his power at…at work to compare.” 

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛?”

 

The question made sense. 

 

“They say I should. “For–protection.”

 

The eyes glowed with different light, I imagined with mirth. 

 

“𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞?”

 

With a leaden hand I felt for the cross beneath my habit, clutched at the fabric as hard as I could, sending inward apologizes to God in whom I had never believed. The eyes watched me with mocking entertainment. 

“It works.” 

 

“𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢.”

 

I felt a waft of hot air slide from the crown of my head to the end of my toes. This made me feel bare, exposed, vulnerable. 

 

“𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝙲𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚡. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚍.”

 

“I was baptized,” I blurted in a distressed tone. 

 

Heinous HA HA HA! full of disdain, exploded. It hurt my ears so much I was afraid they’d bleed. 

 

“𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕.”

 

A scream built in my throat but I could only whisper, “God’s with me.” In reality, I felt no god, not one bit. Only the evil. 

 

“𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑.”

 

“Lies. God will not leave me.”

 

“𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐.”

 

I saw it as my only way out. So I began to vigorously recite the Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary with tears flooding my eyes. Then I prayed to Saint Michael and other saints for protection, thanking granny (as unbelievable as it sounds) for forcing her aggressive piety into me. And I prayed to God, to that God I had never truly known, clutching at my cross and my rosary so hard my knuckles turned white. I prayed all the prayers I knew, bowed and kneeled and wailed. Weeped and took my atheistic words, every one of them I had ever uttered, back one hundred times. Two hundred times. “Lord Jesus, son of God…have mercy on me,” my lips trembled as I whispered, “a sinner. I am wrong, so wrong. Forgive my blindness. My infidelity. I see now. I believe. With all my heart. Rule it, father. Be with me. I beg you! Be with me! Save me!”

Absolutely nothing happened. There was only dreadful, lonely silence, a suspense before a conclusion. 

 

“𝙸 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕'𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 𝙽𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛.”

 

The nasty voice hissed with triumph. It broke my already broken heart. With despair I stared at the blazing eyes. 

“Will you end me now?” I wept. 

 

“𝙸 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜.”

 

Insults were the least of my worries. All I saw was a glimpse of hope. 

“Then…will you let me go?”

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚢.”

 

The glimpse of hope vanished. Exactly right, I thought. What was I even dreaming of, expecting a demon to brush me off. 

“What will you do with me?”

 

“𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜.”

 

“I can’t serve you,” I objected, not one bit firmly.

 

"𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚗𝚞𝚗. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍."

 

“I can’t serve you. I am a nun. I serve God.” I pushed out. 

 

“𝙴𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚎. 𝙾𝚛, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙸 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏. 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝.”

 

The entity twisted my own words with a scoff. And since I indeed seemed to have no choice between life and death, the only option was to––succumb. 

“I…will serve you…” 

 

“𝙲𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.”

 

“I’m worse than a fool. I’m a coward.” 

 

“𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚕𝚜.”

 

There was a prolonged silence. 

 

“𝙻𝚒𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎. 𝙿𝚊𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.”

 

It ordered. Only now I took notice of a singular male voice. Pleasant, astoundingly pleasant. Disgustingly pleasant. Resignedly I did as was told. Tingling warmth occurred below my abdomen.  

 

“𝚅𝚒𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗.”

 

The voice declared. I shivered at the word.

“I am listening,” I said. 

The eyes leveled with mine, swirled hypnotically close. 

 

“𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢. 𝙿𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍. 𝚂𝚘𝚊𝚔 𝚊 𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢’𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢’𝚜 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕.”

 

It spoke in a low, even timbre.

“How will I manage the latter? Visitors are prohibited. Let alone men.” 

 

“𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛.”

 

I only nodded as I memorized. 

 

“𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.”

 

I think I mumbled, “I will do as you say.” 

Then I strongly felt a presence leaning further over me, and clearly sensed a hand trace along my stomach. It was a big hand, bigger than human. I imagined its grip on my neck, and my neck ached just by imagining it. The hand kept contouring my habit, studying the curves underneath. I turned to stone under the touch, once again in disbelief of what was happening. God only knows how I wished I was hallucinating then. At that moment, I remember, even madness seemed better than a demon caressing my body.

 

“𝙾𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚑.”

 

“You know my name.” I muttered, paralyzed.

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎.” 

 

“Asmodeus,” I pronounced. 

 

“𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚟𝚎.”

 

“Asmodeus,” I murmured.

 

“𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛.”

 

“Asmodeus,” I breathed, about to burst into tears.

 

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚘𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚊𝚛. 𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚖𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝. 𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛. 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍’𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚍.”

 

I felt a heavy kiss on my chest, right in between my breasts were my cross was. I knew it because the metal grew so impossibly hot that it scorched the skin. The burn, however, felt much deeper than that. It felt as though it burned the very sinner inside of me. The feeling was indescribable, devastating. Then my body grew light, as if a fifty-ton concrete plate was lifted off of me. 

“Asmodeus?” 

No response followed. I was alone. In every sense.