They warned me about him.
Said he was possessed. Said no priest had lasted more than an hour alone with the boy before begging to be replaced. But they sent me anyway. Because I was young. Clean. A rising flame in God’s house. Maybe they thought I’d be strong enough to withstand whatever evil had sunk its claws into him.
They didn’t tell me he’d look like that.
The door creaked as I stepped inside the chapel basement. Cold air kissed my skin beneath the robes, the kind of damp that sunk into your bones. Candlelight flickered in the stone chamber, casting long, dancing shadows across the floor. And in the center—chained, shirtless, barefoot—was him.
He was crouched like an animal, knees drawn up, dark hair sticking to his temples. His chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths. N
