I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER 7: THE ENTITY'S REVELATION

Father Gabriel sat alone with Betsy in the dim light of her room, his eyes locked on hers as she shivered in silence. Betsy's once gentle face was twisted in agony, her eyes darting with a dark awareness that clearly wasn't her own. He had seen the innocent girl she was before, but now, something else had taken control. He took a deep breath, clenching his rosary as he prepared to confront the being that lurked within her.

He spoke softly, his tone steady, but there was a steel-like authority in his words, "I am here to listen, to understand. Why torment this innocent child? Why punish this family?"

A twisted smile crept across Betsy's face, her eyes sharpening with a glint of malice. Her voice was no longer hers-it was deeper, laced with venom, and almost inhuman. She tilted her head, looking at Gabriel as if he were the one out of place in this room.

"Do you think your simple words can reach me, priest?" the entity hissed through Betsy's lips, her face now contorted with an eerie sense of anger and sorrow. "Innocent?" it scoffed, laughing bitterly. "There is no innocence in this blood. Her blood is bound to mine. A debt was written in blood long ago, and I will collect until eternity grants me peace."

Father Gabriel didn't flinch. He held his gaze on the entity, his own face calm and unwavering. "No child should pay for the sins of others. I understand your suffering and your pain, but revenge will never bring you peace."

The laugh filled the room, a sound so cold that it seemed to chill the air around them. "Peace?" it sneered, the mocking tone twisting into something bitter. "Do you think your God has the power to undo betrayal? Do you think a few whispered prayers can erase the pain of abandonment, the cruelty that left me to rot? No. I am bound to this family by ancient wounds, by promises and betrayal. They will know me. In every generation, they will know me."

Gabriel felt the weight of those words settle into the air, a sense of anger and despair so deep that it seeped into his very bones. He realized he was facing something far more complex and ancient than a simple vengeful spirit; this was a soul twisted by centuries of unresolved agony.

"I do not deny your pain," he said slowly, his voice filled with empathy. "But have you not endured enough? What has torment brought you but more suffering? Let go, leave this child, and find peace."

The entity's eyes flashed with fury, and it leaned forward as if to lash out, restrained only by some unseen force. "Let go?" it hissed, its voice trembling with rage. "Do you know what it is to be wronged, to be bound by chains you never deserved? I was promised peace once, by those whose blood flows through this child. I was promised love, only to be thrown away like refuse. And now, I am bound here, to remind them of what was done."

Gabriel felt his heart grow heavy. This spirit's anger was like a wound that had festered for generations, a force born of betrayal and a twisted sense of justice. He could feel his resolve shaken, but he remained focused.

After hours of fruitless attempts to persuade the spirit, he knew he needed support. Father Gabriel felt the presence of something powerful and dark pressing down upon him, making each breath feel labored, each thought heavy with doubt. This was no ordinary possession; this was a legacy of wrath, as deep and dark as the shadows cast by the flickering candlelight.

That evening, Gabriel knelt in the Bell family's parlor and wrote letters to two fellow priests he knew to be strong in their faith and experienced in exorcisms. Fathers Michael and Joseph were well-known for their courage in facing the supernatural, and if anyone could help him confront this malevolent force, it was them. After sending word to the two priests, he spent the rest of the night praying, gathering his strength for what he knew would be a final and possibly fatal confrontation.