―𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘉𝘙𝘌𝘌𝘡𝘌𝘉𝘓𝘖𝘊𝘒𝘚
ʳᵉᶜᵒʳᵈ ᵒᶠ ʳᵃᵍⁿᵃʳᵒᵏ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ
They called you a Saint. Someone worthy of the Lord's attention, they would often beg for your attention in hopes of healing something within them...
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TW: cults, religious trauma, slight gore ❝in which the end chooses to be your beginning.❞
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Today will for sure be an eventful day like all other days, (Name) is sure of it. Afterall, how can any day be uneventful for her when she wakes up with a bunch of people by her bedside? They seemed to be murmuring some type of prayer, a rosary in their hands as they so desperately called out for something. (Name) isn't sure what that may be but she hopes it doesn't have anything to do with her.
Currently, she is struggling to stay asleep. She knows she isn't supposed to be awake right now, and of course they know that as well. (Name) took a quick peek at the window beside her, the sky painted a dashing orange with the sun slowly rising from below. The sun's rays pierced at her eyes and she swiftly closed them shut before anyone could notice them open.
(Name) stirred in her supposed sleep, interrupting the murmured conversation between the people knelt by her side. They shushed one another and (Name) swore she heard a few footsteps pitterpatter out of her room. But someone was still inside, she feels as if someone was still inside, she can't risk it and open her eyes just yet.
A calloused hand tucked a few strands of hair behind (Name)'s ear, causing her to prevent every single nerve in her system from making her body shiver in absolute disgust. She remembers those hands, they are the hands of her declared guardian, the man who raised her in an environment undeserving of a sweet child. His hands are so rough and bruised that it makes (Name) want to cringe whenever she'd feel them even just gently grazing her skin.
