Getting Even

The priest slapped her backside as she walked past the desk again. She was wearing a black gown, the longest gown her mother bought for her. It was big on her, but still her behind was hardly hidden beneath it, at least not for the priest. Annabel did not bother turning to look at him because she knew she would find that stupid grin on his face. She could not now remember how many times she wished she had the power to wipe that grin off his face in the most painfully shocking way possible.

“Go and lock the door, so your confession can begin,” the man said with an air of one who knew he would not be disobeyed.

Annabel walked towards the door. At first she moved slowly, like someone hesitant on a course of action, then she locked the door with firm and sure moves, neither fast nor slow. When she turned towards the priest, there was this daring look on her face that got the priest frightened for all of ten seconds before he finally convinced himself that the girl was just in the lower rungs of teenage hood; what could she possibly do? Perhaps that should have been warning enough, this second-guessing of his power over the young girl, no matter how fast it entered and left his mind. But years of subjugating and abusing a lot of powerless girls made him blind to the signs. To him, Annabel was just another girl in the history of girls with whom he did as he pleased.

“Come here,” he commanded. Again that air was there. It was evident in the way he looked away carelessly after ordering the girl to himself. He was looking for the lubricant that he had normally used on the girl, and did not see the glint from the object Annabel was trying to conceal. He moved his hand expecting it to meet with Annabel’s body. When it did not, he raised up his head to see the girl standing four feet away from him, the knife no longer concealed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, getting irritated; the girl had been acting funny since she came to the cathedral today. He wondered if she had told anybody about their dealings and was somehow feeling powerful because of it. To quench that rebellious act, he had to humiliate her today.

“I said come here!” His voice was loud this time, enough to knock out whatever courage the girl had gathered. But as he watched, the girl’s teeth clenched in determination. That was when he knew there was trouble. The warning that had set off in his head long ago was now magnified as he watched the girl move slowly towards him, the knife raised.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice trembling as panic seeped into it. The girl stared at him, the very expression of bottled rage ready to take flight, ready to explode. 

For the first time in his life, the priest was frightened. He had never seen that light of madness in the girl’s eyes before. Maybe the girl truly was possessed. Seeing the light of madness in two eyes colored differently sent the chill down his spine. 

Eli stood up quickly from his seat and dashed towards the girl. If he could get to her quickly, he would overpower her, and teach her the lesson of her life before discarding her. He had a ready story for the parents of the stubborn girl. Before he could get to her, he felt pain explode on his abdomen. He had missed the knife completely.

“Ahhh!” he screamed, stumbling backwards. The girl was unrelenting. She pulled the knife painfully from his stomach and tried to plunge it into his chest. The priest put up a hand to defend himself, and felt agonizing pain as the knife sank through his palm and came out the other side.

“Ahh! Help! I’ve got a mad girl in my…!” the priest screamed, falling over backwards with Annabel on top of him. They crashed to the cool marble floor of the office, and his blood began to spread over it. It seemed to be coming from everywhere, this crimson source of life. 

The girl pulled the knife out of his palm, shredding the palm in two and drawing another pain-induced scream from the frightened priest. She no longer felt like she was the one there; she felt different. She felt rage, and her rage gave her power. It gave her strength. Still lying on top of her abuser, she brought the knife down on his face. This time, the priest could not raise a hand to defend himself. At first, he struggled, but as the girl struck again and again, his struggling subsided and he went quiet. 

Satisfied, Annabel felt the rage leave her body. It left abruptly and left her empty. Then the knocks started at the door.

“Open this door,” somebody shouted from outside. Annabel recognized the voice. It belonged to the nun who stayed in this cathedral

“Is the priest okay?” the woman’s voice asked from outside. 

t was the two of them, the priest and the nun, who decided she had a demon inside of her, a demon that apparently needed a long time of abuse and torture to send away. 

“OPEN THIS DOOR! WHO’S INSIDE?”

Annabel slowly looked around the office. The priest’s essence was painted on the table legs, on the floor, on the wall, and the blood just kept flowing as if it would never stop. She could not recognize his face anymore. It was contorted with fear, the part that was not a mess from the continuous stabbing. The knife clattered from her hand as she stood up.

“CAN’T YOU HEAR ME? OPEN THIS DOOR!”

There was no way she was going to open that door. The locals would perform a rite and kill her  before she would even have time to explain that it was the devil that had taken over her. 

Something drew her eyes to the window. It was the shadowless person. She stood there, a silhouette, but Annabel could almost see her smiling. She felt, more than saw it.

“You! You did this!” Annabel shouted.

The figure shrugged. The banging on the door increased. The door was wooden, and though both bolts were engaged, Annabel could tell that consistent pounding would push the door down.

Come with me

It was in her head; it was all in her head. Annabel closed her eyes and tried to wish what she faced away, but when she opened her eyes, her gaze was still met with the same disturbing spectacle.

“No!”

“ANNABEL, OPEN THIS DOOR!”

Annabel started when she heard her name booming from the nun’s mouth. The woman knew she was here! She knew opening the door was not an option.

Come with me.

The door came down minutes later with the nun dashing inside accompanied by a group of the locals who she had called for help, only to be met with the priest’s thoroughly stabbed body. Spatters of blood all over the furniture and the ground indicated that there had been some struggle before the priest was killed. The only mystery that remained unsolved was the whereabouts of Annabel. It was as if she had never been there.