I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER 5: WHO IS KATE BATTS?

" Exorcizimus te omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabólica. Eradicare, eradicare, disperge, disperge, confunde, confunde. Vade retro Satana, numquam suade mihi vana. Sunt mala quae libas, ipse venena bibas!" Father Gabriel's voice was firm, the Latin words carrying weight beyond human understanding. The air around them seemed to crackle with energy as if the very walls of the house were pressing in on them. The possessed Betsy's eyes, once wide with the vacant stare of possession, now narrowed with malice.

She staggered slightly, her thin body swaying like a fragile tree in a storm. A low chuckle escaped her lips, deep and guttural, not at all like the innocent voice of the girl who once spoke in sweet tones.

"You think you can cast me out so easily?" she hissed, her voice dropping in pitch to something unnatural. "You think your God has power over me? I am already here. And I will never leave. Do you think I can leave this young, warm, fresh body? No, priest, I will stay here. I will stay and destroy."

Father Gabriel's expression remained stoic, but a trace of doubt flickered in his eyes. He could feel the power of the spirit. It was no mere mischievous poltergeist or petty haunting-it was something far darker, far older.

With a steady hand, Father Gabriel reached for the vial of holy water at his side. Without hesitation, he flicked the water toward Betsy's forehead. The effect was immediate. The spirit inside her screamed in agony, a high-pitched, otherworldly wail that reverberated through the house. Betsy's body jerked violently, her limbs twitching as if she were being electrocuted. The horrifying screech that filled the room was deafening, and for a moment, it seemed as though the walls themselves might collapse under the force of it.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the room fell eerily silent again.

Betsy fell on the ground, her body motionless once more. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. The spirit, for a fleeting moment, seemed to have retreated, but the priest knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of hope.

Father Gabriel knelt on the ground, murmuring under his breath as he crossed himself. He could feel the weight of the unseen presence still lingering in the air, as though the spirit was hiding in the shadows, biding its time.

"We must tie her," Father Gabriel murmured to John, who stood near him, watching helplessly. "Her movements will become uncontrollable again soon, and we cannot risk her harming herself further."

John nodded, though his face was pale with fear. He was a proud man, known in the village for his strength, but seeing his daughter in such a state had shaken him to his core.

Lucy and the kids, who had been standing in the corner, her hands clasped in prayer, looked up. "What do we do now? Will this ever end?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

Father Gabriel stood up, his face grim. "We must be vigilant. I will stay here tonight and continue my prayers. But the spirit is not gone-only hidden. We must prepare ourselves for what comes next."

John and Lucy exchanged worried glances, but they did not question him. They had come this far, and Father Gabriel's presence, despite the fear that gripped them, was a small comfort. At least they were not alone in this battle.

---

Later that evening, after Betsy had been tied to her bed to prevent further violent movements, Father Gabriel remained in her room, poring over the notes and papers he had gathered. It was already late-too late for anyone to be awake-but he could not afford to sleep. Not when the threat was so close.

He leafed through a tattered notebook, his fingers tracing the faded ink on the yellowed pages. It was a journal from the early 18th century, written by a local historian who had recorded the stories and events surrounding the people of Adams, Tennessee. As he read, one name kept cropping up: Kate Batts.

He had heard the name mentioned by the Bell family earlier, but now, with the full weight of the situation upon him, he was determined to uncover more. The name Kate Batts carried with it a chilling sense of dread-a feeling that Father Gabriel couldn't quite shake.

Kate Batts had been a neighbor to the Bells many years ago, before John Bell had even moved to this land, this house was a family house to the bells generation but they had moved here three years ago from the city.She had been rumored to practice dark magic, witchcraft, and had long been suspected of cursing those who wronged her. All that was certain was that she was a woman with a bitter heart and a dark reputation.

The historian's journal mentioned her mysterious death. Some said she had died peacefully in her sleep, while others whispered that her death had been anything but natural. There were rumors of an unexplained illness, of strange phenomena surrounding her final days, and of an unsettling presence that had lingered long after her burial. And then, there were those who claimed that Kate Batts had not truly died at all.

Father Gabriel's hand paused over the journal. He looked at the faded, almost illegible text, his brow furrowing. If Kate Batts had indeed dabbled in dark arts, if she had truly cursed the Bells, then her spirit might be bound to them. But why was Betsy the one being targeted? What did this spirit want from the Bell family? And why had it chosen this young girl as its vessel?

A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was Lucy.

She entered the room quietly, holding a tray with food. "I thought you might be hungry, Father," she said gently, setting the tray down on the table beside him. Her eyes were filled with concern, and she seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though unsure of what to say next.

Father Gabriel gave her a reassuring smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Thank you, Lucy. I appreciate it, but I must focus on my work."

"I know," she said softly. "I just wanted to thank you for staying with us. For helping us. You've given us hope, even though the situation seems... hopeless."

Father Gabriel looked at her, his face softening for a moment. "You're welcome. But there is much work left to be done. The spirit that haunts your daughter is powerful. I must break its hold on her."

Lucy nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know what else we can do," she whispered, her voice breaking. "She's all we have left."

Father Gabriel placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice steady but full of compassion. "I promise you, Lucy, we will not give up. We will find a way to rid this house of the evil that haunts it. You must have faith."

Lucy took a deep breath, nodding as she wiped away a tear. "I will. We will."

As she left the room, Father Gabriel turned his attention back to the journal. The name "Kate Batts" haunted him. If he could uncover more about her life, perhaps he could find a way to sever the bond between the spirit and Betsy.

---

Back in Betsy's room, the silence returned, but it wasn't peaceful. It was suffocating. As Father Gabriel continued his research, he suddenly heard a low, mocking laugh. It came from the bed.

Betsy's body, still bound to the bed, twitched, and her head turned slowly toward Father Gabriel. Her eyes, once again clouded with the malevolent spirit's influence, glinted with cruel amusement.

"Do you think your prayers will save you, priest?" the spirit taunted, its voice dripping with mockery. "Your God can't hear you. Perhaps He's busy, perhaps He's turned His back on you. You are nothing here."

Father Gabriel remained calm, ignoring the malicious words. He had heard them before, and he knew that such taunts were meant to break his faith. But he would not yield. He ignored the spirit's attempts to sway him, continuing to whisper his prayers, to call on the divine power that he knew could defeat such darkness.

As the mocking laughter echoed in the room, Father Gabriel closed his eyes and focused on his connection to God, his mind and heart steadfast in his resolve.

"Vade retro Satana," he muttered under his breath, his voice steady. " Numquam suade mihi vana. Sunt mala quae libas, ipse venena bibas."

The spirit's laughter continued, but Father Gabriel didn't flinch. He continued praying.