The Unholy Bride: In God's Name, I Kill

Chapter 26: Mary Holloway-Steel

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENTS (SEXUAL ABUSE, SELF-HARM)

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Leaning back on the couch, I let out a deep sigh, preparing myself to dive into my wife's diary—a glimpse into her thoughts and a peek into her life.

Dear, diary

Today, a man walked into the church. I don't know his name as I forgot to ask and he also didn't tell me, but I know he's going through something right now. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken like he hadn't slept in days. I felt sorry for him. I hope he returns, so I can have the chance to share the Lord's words with him. I believe it could help him find some peace.

I immediately knew that I was the man she mentioned, and I could still vividly remember that day. Getting more interested to see myself in her POV, I flipped to another page.

Dear, diary

I was right—the man is struggling. He returned to the church, just as I had hoped, and shared his sorrow with me. His girlfriend had died while giving birth to their child. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he is enduring. All I could do was hold his hand, read to him from the Bible, and pray to the Lord to grant him healing and peace.

I chuckled to myself, amazed at how she truly cared for me. My wife was literally an angel roaming this planet.

Dear, diary

I think he's getting better. He visited again, and I could see signs of progress. Maybe he's finally finding solace from the Bible I've been reading to him. I'm genuinely happy for him.

After reading that entry, I flipped ahead to find a new one, but my brows furrowed when I was met with several blank pages. It seemed she hadn't written anything for a while. Oddly enough, it looked like she had purposely left those pages blank before continuing her diary entries on a page much further along.

I started reading the new entry, my attention drawn not only to her words but also to the small round blots and smudges scattered across the page, along with the noticeable tremble in her handwriting, as if tears and trembling hands had accompanied every stroke.

Dear, diary

I don't understand. I will never understand. Why did this have to happen to me? I'm not a bad person—I always put everyone else first, before myself. Or was that my mistake? Was it my fault for putting him before me? I was just concerned. He was drunk and I didn't want him to drive home alone because he might get into an accident, so I let him inside my chamber.

I wanted him to feel better, so I made us tea. But after taking a couple sips of mine, I felt dizzy and everything went black. When I woke, I found myself tied to my bed with the floral scent from the incense lingering in the air of my chamber.

It was so close to my nose because he was moving it from my head to toe like he was performing a ritual on me. When I realized what was happening, I wiggled my body and shouted for help, but it was useless because he taped my mouth. I cried and begged him to free me, but he didn't. Instead, he touched me. His hands roamed around my body, caressing the parts I didn't want anyone to touch. He removed my clothes. The habit I wore and the veil around my head scattered on the cold floor, including my underwear. I laid helplessly and naked before his eyes, my arms and legs spread out since they were tied on the posts of the bed. He stared at me for what felt like the longest one minute in my life, while I cried, begged, and prayed to the Lord for someone to help me, or for Roman to stop what he was doing, that he'd apologize and leave my chamber, but nothing of that happened.