Silent Whispers

Chapter 11

"This world doesn't know who you belong to just yet. But, when they do, no one is going to come for your rescue and no one is going to stop him from taking you. Your days are marked, girl." These were the exact words a fortune teller slapped me with couple of hours ago when I felt I needed to try out my 'future call'. Fortune tellers have a generic response to give everyone who comes their way for couple of bucks. I expected a generic response from her. I never in my entire life thought I'd hear those words come out of her.

She was frozen the moment those words were out of her mouth. It's like she wasn't expecting herself to be more open like that; however, I had a feeling the words weren't hers. She told me to get out the second she came to her senses, and I ran. Again. But I only ran back home because I had nowhere else to go.

The devil was literally after me and I had no one to tell. If I told my stepmother, she'd call it a blessing. If I told my father—actually, no. I can't because he's ninety percent drunk all the time, and for the remaining ten percent, he's always out. He would never believe me even in his sober state of mind. I could only tell Lilly, but Lilly could never understand me. I was burdened with this, and I didn't know what to do with it.

What sins have I committed? I never stole, rarely lied for my own benefit, didn't commit murder of any sorts, haven't even killed a bug in my life, nor have I ever had premarital sex before. I sit on my bed, and contemplate hard. Actually, there's this one thing I did...

Is reading steamy, erotic novels a sin? Is having sexual thoughts running wild in my brain a sin? Is it enough to drag me to the pits of Hell? Seriously, what did I do wrong to conjure up a literal devil on my doorstep? I pushed myself back against my mattress, and stared at the ceiling, feeling numb. Are my days really marked?

"Am I going to die?" I muttered under my breath. That feeling of being watched again was back, and it was enough to have me sitting back up. The feeling will never go away, that much I knew. I was surrounded by the inevitable, but I demanded answers. I rose to my toes, and softly padded towards the window. I didn't want answers here. I wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere where it first started. The cold out there was taunting, and the feeling of being watched constantly was haunting. It was driving me insane.

Again, in the middle of the night, I decided to what I always did best. I slipped out of the door, and walked when the world remained safe and protected behind their doors. The haunting presence around me never scared me as much as the real humans did. My father was the scariest of them all, and my stepmother followed behind.

The gravel under my feet crunched as I hugged myself tight, and took small little steps ahead. It got cooler in the middle of the nights, but oddly the cool air stopped rubbing me the wrong way. Had it been for others, they'd be freezing right now. I wanted to complain because I wanted to feel normal. I wanted to freeze, to get scared, to feel threatened. But those little things were stripped from me long time ago.

My feet dragged me all the way towards Silent Whispers. Here, I knew I'd get all the answers I needed. I just needed to keep myself from passing out, screaming, or running away without even getting a single answer. I took a deep breath, and walked forward. Upon entering the forbidden area of the town, I frozen the minute I got towards the cemetery where my mother laid to rest.

Silent Whispers was burnt to crisp. Every leaves on the tree, every stick, every bark looked like it had been through hell and back. Maybe it had been. I remembered the flames like it was just yesterday. I blinked, and realized...

It was.

The only time people ever came out here was to pay homage to the loved, dead ones. After that, it was a no-go, red zone. There is a church right besides the cemetery that's always open for some reason, but it's not like anyone goes there, but couple of catholic priests. In the middle of the night, I didn't think anyone would be there, but I took my chances by walking towards it. I came here to get answers from him, but I needed the assistance of God. I never rejected God, and always believed in the higher power.

Did I really want answers to the questions I didn't even really have, or a guidance on how to get rid the devil chasing after me forever? I was eight when I last stepped a foot in church. Now at eighteen, I was going to do it again. The closer I go to it, the harder and faster my heart beat in my chest. I was aware of the intense heat trailing behind me, but all I felt was cold underneath. It was a wild, deadly mixture, the hot and cold mixing inside of me.

Don't, Rose. You don't belong there.

My feet halted, my blood turning cold in my veins. Fear overshadowed me, gripping me tight by my throat. But I didn't turn around to acknowledge the presence. I didn't follow the voice. I followed my own, climbed up a small hill, and took two steps up towards the doors of the church. It was cracked ajar, but before I could push the doors open, the voice came to me again.

There's no God.

If there's a Devil, there's a God. I went inside. The church was filled with a minimal light, barely enough for me to get through without bumping into the seats. I adjusted my vision a little better and pushed myself forward. There, along with carved paintings, and cathedral monuments around me, there stood a big Cross in the front. I sat in one of the seats, and acknowledged the beauty around me, and the idol of Jesus.

I can't see much from the minimal light, but I can see the stories forming on the walls from the pictures. Angelic figures are everywhere, but it does nothing to soothe me. God's real. Otherwise he wouldn't be real. But, as I sit here, marvel, and soak in the presence of God, my mind is elsewhere. I should be here, feeling protected, feeling like there's a silver hope for me to get back to my shitty life like it was before. But, I felt nothing.

Then I felt it. It was deep, and deliberate, and it caused the hairs on the back of my neck rise in caution. My flesh quivered, and my palms felt sweaty. My brain was signaling me to dive more deeper into the church, but my heart was telling me to turn around. I tried so hard to fight it but it the end, the latter won. I always stupidly followed my heart.

I stood, and turned just like I was meant to. There was a calling for me, and what I saw in front of me almost knocked me backwards a couple of steps. Had it not been for the dividers, I would have fell backwards without a balance. This was no angel. This was the devil, standing outside of the church in all its black-shadow glory, with hands pushed into his pockets. I wish I could see the face, anything but the black smoke from Hell surrounding the figure.

This was worst than a ghost or a spirit. This was real—standing straight, watching me suffer in the dark.