Chapter 1

Ecclesiophobia: Fear of churches.

Written from Mary Wilson's point of view.

I've always been termed odd since as long as I remember.

I had been isolated from the outside world at the early stages of my life. I wasn't trained like an average child. No time for hide and seek, tag, running around in the mud, bring your father to school day, tea parties, princess dress up and basically everything expected of a normal six year old. I spent all my time to myself.

I didn't talk much, not to my parents, neighbors or the other children in school. I was quiet and reserved unlike every other little girl.

I lived in a little town where everything was everyone's business. It didn't take long before people started noticing my weird character. It started with whispers, then gossips and then they got worried.

The principal invited my parents several times.

At first, they thought it was Child abuse and my parents were investigated on the issue. They searched the whole house for a week. They kept coming without invitation, searching for something as proof. I had to stay with one of my teachers for a whole week to confirm. Believe me, she wasn't any better. She also tried to laugh with me or make me talk but i just stared at her and sometimes ignore her. She tried to make me talk, to say something about my parents abusing me or something. It was like trying to get a snowy day in hell.

Impossible

When they noticed i was just like that, they stopped. They got used to me.

Psychologically, I was described as a lonely girl subjected to bully but deep inside, I wasn't any of what they thought I was.

When I turned ten,things changed. I paid more attention to me. I gave all the time to myself. I wasn't social and I loved it that way.

Now, that's when the trouble started.

You see, my parents were religious people. Attending church services every now and then. My mom was once the head choir so she had rehearsals Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. She was also the secretary and church treasurer. My dad was an assistant to the Pope and next in hand so when the Pope died, he became one. In fact, he became a reverend father. After that, my mom became a mother to all in the church.

I never joined the other kids in church to play or go on adventures like they called it. I didn't like that too. People were problematic, the more you have friends the more trouble you cause for yourself and I didn't have time for girly fights or grudges.

My parents barely had time for themselves and that definitely wasn't my thing

Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate the idea of Christianity. I just didn't like the fact we spent most of our time in church and so I changed. I stopped attending choir practice with my mom and every other weekday service.

When they asked I just said I didn't like it and then they took it the wrong way.

People noticed, I mean, it was the most noticeable thing in the church. The pope's daughter preferred to stay in than to attend church services. Who wouldn't notice that?

You see, problematic?

I became the talk of the town. I got stares from people on the streets. Everyone knew me as the possessed girl. They hid their children from me. They treated me like a disease and believe me, I had absolutely no problem with that. They gave me all the time I wanted.

However, I got disturbed when the possessing thing became more popular. One of the factors that made it more believable were the birthmarks displayed on my face. I had curled marks running from my cheekbones to my nose. They were pitch black and so noticeable, even from afar. My skin colour also added to it. It was oddly pale and white in color, almost like paper. Although, my veins weren't noticeable. The last factor was my eye colour. Deep green in colour with golden specks in them. They made me look more like a fictional character than a real human.

I never understood why they were there but they made me feel less human.

They thought they found a symmetry in the whole situation and so it was confirmed, Mary Wilson, daughter of the town's famous Pope was possessed by an evil spirit.

Idiots.

I had no idea it was serious till I had three exorcists standing in front of me.

**************July 12, 2008**************

Three exorcists stood in front of me

One I remembered to be Father John. I could see through him, he pitied me. He also thought I had a spirit living in me and the real Mary was long gone. I didn't blame him though, he had the same mindset as they did.

The second man looked familiar, probably someone from the church. He pressed a cross to his chest like his life depended on it so it really didn't take a genius to see he was scared of me. He really tried to harden his look but he was terribly failing.

The third one was a nun, dressed in her normal black clothing and a cross hanging from her neck. She looked older than fifty with her wrinkled face and pale lips but that didn't mean she was scared. She stood as brave as a lion.

Impressive.

They started by sprinkling holy water around the room, muttering bible verses in the process.

The nun stepped forward with a bible and then it started.

I can't fully remember what happened next but at the end, I was still on my bed soaked with holy water.

The one thing I wouldn't forget was when I heard the nun say the demon in me wouldn't release me and my soul was trapped.

***********Back to present day************

After that, even my parents got scared of me. They didn't come in to talk to me or laugh with me like they used to do. They kept a great distance between us. Just like I said, I didn't go through a normal childhood. They also believed Mary's soul was trapped and that alone ruined it.

As if that was not enough, they hid me from the public simply because they were ashamed of me. My exposure to the outside world ended there. The only person I saw everyday was my mom because she frequently came in to drop my food.

I didn't fail to see the look on her face whenever she walked in. She was hurt. I could see it through her puffy eyes and red face. She said things like give me back my girl or I want my daughter back or leave her alone.

I just replied with i am her.

This continued till I got to the age of fifteen when I started hearing voices in my head. Yes, it sounds crazy but it was true. I knew it wasn't my thoughts, it came with a different calm and soothing voice. It was feminine and sweet but it made me feel like I was running mad. When it started, all I would hear was

Come.

It came again and again and it wouldn't stop.

Then the nightmares started. I had terrible dreams about a village burning down with me running though numerous people. The skies were as dark with a lot of birds chanting in the sky. It was chaotic, everywhere was messed up and bloody. It was fast and blurry at times but at the end, my body ends up falling on the ground like I died or something.

I had no idea what the dream meant or why it kept coming back over and over again. Every night, it became more clear and the voices went from mute to whispers. The dream became more organized and clear but I still didn't understand it.

It was during those days I needed help the most so I tried to talk to my mom about it.

She had come to drop my food. She placed it in front of me and was about to leave when I held her hand. She stopped and her pulse quickened, she was scared.

I told her about everything, the voices in my head and the nightmares. I took my time in explaining the nightmares in details.

With every word I said, her frown deepened and her pulse rate quickened. She was taken it in. She believed me but I didn't understand why she was scared. I hated seeing her that way.

When I was done, she yanked her hands away and ran outside and that was the last time I ever saw her. I noticed I didn't get food that afternoon and the night that followed. I couldn't go outside because my door was locked so I just sat there and waited.

A day later, some of the neighbors barged into my room and dragged me out. It wasn't until I got outside I saw the dead bodies of my parents on the ground with their throats slit open. The blood on their bodies were dry and that meant they probably died a day before.

I was too pained to say a word or even cry.

They didn't see anyone go in or come out of the house so they blamed it on me. They said the demon in me killed them and once again, I became the talk of the town. The pope's daughter murdered her family in cold blood.

The real question was, how could I have gotten out of my room when the door was locked?

Days later, I was admitted into a mental asylum. They thought I was mentally unstable and too dangerous to stay with the people.

Therefore, I've been in the asylum for eight years and people still saw me as a crazy person or even worse murderer.

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