Hardships and Trials || Drabble
Note: The Nun takes place in 1952. I don't know Irene's exact age, so I'm just guessing that she's 20 at the time of the events in Romania. :)
I began having visions as a child. My father believed that I either had a mental disorder or that I was lying. My visions reached the church and they sent Bishop Form to help me.
August 7th, 1939
Irene; 7 years old.
Small beads of sweat slowly etched down her porcelain features, absorbing into the collar of her night gown. Her golden tresses clung to her forehead in a matted fashion, sweeping into one longer braid that cascaded down her spine messily. Her chestnut hues rolled backward, the whites of her eyes shining in the glow of the candle. Irene thrashed against the restraints, the woven rope digging into her wrists. Small streams of blood pooled around the binding, speckling the purity of her bed sheets. A loud shriek emanated from tight lips, her petite form arching in every attempt to flee her captor.
"I command you, in the name of the Father to tell me your name, demon!" The Bishop spat, splashing a few drops of holy water upon her tainted flesh. The young girl responded with a thunderous roar, her head rolling on around the feathery pillow, a haughty laugh dripping from her throat. In the corner stood her parents, her mother's head pressed firmly against the chest of her father, shielding her vision. The pair wept, fearful for their daughter's survival.
"Mommy, daddy." For a moment, the demonic entity vanished, leaving the exhausted child barely clinging to whatever shred of life remained. "Mommy. Help me. Make the bad man go away." Tears streamed down the apples of her cheeks, her cocoa gaze eyeing her parents.
Martha, her mother, lifted her head from his shoulder, her blue hues stained crimson from the excessive emotion that plagued her. Watching her only child struggle with such a malicious being tormented her, a feat no mother should ever have to deal with. Slowly, she closed the gap between them, her gaze torn away from her little girl. "Mommy." She cried, writhing in agony from the abuse of the accursed creature. Martha lightly stroked Irene's pale cheek, wiping away a few rogue tears that managed to escape her sweet hues. In an instant, nothing but darkness overtook her; replacing the painful expression sprawled across her face with something more malevolent. "Yeah mom, help us." A deeper, more sinister voice replaced that of her child's, the obsidian hues piercing deep into her soul.
The older woman stumbled backward in fear, releasing her hold on her child before falling to her knees. "Leave my daughter alone." Her voice was weak, distressed from the nightmare that had become their lives. "Irene is no longer here." The demon spouted, spitting in the direction of the weeping woman. "And now, she is mine." A thick, eerie snicker left pursed lips, turning its attention to the priest dutifully reciting an incantation. "Save your breath or I'll make it your last." The entity warned, a smirk etching across the chapped mouth. "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I command you to tell me your name!" The man shouted, placing the leather bound book on the nightstand and placing a blessed crucifix against the damp forehead of the frail girl. The demon recoiled, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, attempting to free itself once more. "Azreal." After seemed like an eternity of fighting and cursing, the demonic being surrendered, taking in long, exaggerated drawls of air. "In the name of the Father, I condemn you back to Hell." He finished, sliding the cross down over the heart.
A lighter presence filled the air, slicing through the tension and malice. The darkness that once haunted her, fled, leaving behind the shattered child that endured such hardship. "Will she be okay?" Martha rose to her feet, taking a seat in the space next to her baby. "I'm not sure, she did suffer through a lot." The Bishop returned the small book and cross to his briefcase before attending to the child. "I can tell you one thing though, if she does survive, she will be special. God has blessed her with many and she will go on to do great things." He offered little reassurance, though Martha nodded along. Through this whole ordeal, she was steadfast in prayer, her faith never dwindling. If Irene was to live, then it would be a miracle and she would praise Him who gave her another chance of life.
"Mommy...?" Irene coughed, pulling at the ropes. "He's gone, he's really gone." Thankful tears traversed down her cheeks, this hellish nightmare was finally over. And while she hoped he would stay away forever, a part of her knew that she would face unspeakable terrors once more, but like this moment, she would rise victorious above those that try to slay her.