Atticus #3
“Does it have to?” Cameron presses. “Isn’t there something we can do without—”
“Son,” the reverend cuts in. “It is the only way.”
The stinging in my skin, the pressure in my head, the way my body feels as if it’ll combust at any second—it all heightens at his words. As if something deep inside of me can sense that this is wrong.
The priest pulls a Bible from his case, along with a beaded necklace and a thick wooden cross dangling at the end.
My breath quickens, my wrists tugging at the cuffs once more.
“I can’t watch,” I hear Mother whisper, turning to let my father hold her tighter.
“W-what are you going to do with me?” I ask, panting as I stare wide-eyed at the priest.
“I’m going to exorcise this demon out of you. You’ve made a deal, and the only way to break it is to banish this pest back to where it came from.”
“It won’t work,” I whisper, and the fact comes from so deep inside of me that I truly do believe it.
“It will,” Reverend Clark assures me. “I’ve spoken to a few colleagues, did some research, and that thing inside of you will remain for the allotted amount of time if I don’t push it out.”
“You can’t,” I insist, an anger big enough to crush building inside of me; a fear so desperate and hot that it hurts to stomach.
Reverend Clark doesn’t reply, doesn’t even acknowledge me.
My body tenses, yanking and yanking at my binds as a voice speaks from the back of my mind.
You will die. He will kill you.
Oh, god, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to hurt. Why can’t this be over? What did I do to deserve this? I just wanted to protect my brother.
My vision blurs momentarily, my brain feeling too full to think properly.
“You bitch,” I sneer, an angry and vicious sound. I didn’t mean to say it; it came out all on its own.
Every head in the room whips toward me, shocked.
“Now. We have to do it now,” Reverend Clark says.
“Is it taking control? Is it coming out?” Cameron asks, his voice strained as he stares down at me.
“Yes. Demons typically hide until night, but it feels my presence. It knows what I’m about to do.”
“Please,” I beg. “Please don’t hurt me.”
It’s going to kill you. Escape. Ask those who love you; get free, sweet child.
“Daddy,” I cry, turning my gaze to my father. “Don’t let him hurt me.”
I’ll plead and scream and sob as much as needed for this to stop. I’ve never been so afraid, so angry, in my entire life.
Father’s face falls, and his mouth opens and closes on repeat, unable to speak.
“Behold the Cross of our Lord,” Reverend Clark begins, extending the cross to me.
And I can feel it—physically. My skin grows hotter, my mind more desperate.
I have to leave! I have to run!
“Atty,” I plead, looking at my brother as I cry. “Please. Stop him! He’s going to kill me!”
“Reverend Clark,” Atlas calls, his voice trembling.
The priest pays him no mind. “You who have crawled from the depths of hell, today I face you with the judgment you deserve. Today, you will face the glory of God.”
“Atlas!” I screech.
Julian spins, taking him from my view, and something ugly and vicious rears its head deep in my chest.
“Pathetic pig,” I shout, tearing at my restraints. “He is not yours! Just die! Die!”
“Shh,” Julian is cooing, petting Atlas’s soft hair as he pretends I don’t fucking exist.
“May God arise, and may his enemies be scattered, and may those who hate him flee from before his face!” the reverend shouts, extending the Bible to me as well.
I know that verse; it’s Psalm 68—not unknown to me. But now, the words feel like a vicious curse. A searing pain.
The agony in my skull heightens, my skin blistering from the inside out. My bones ache, my blood boils, and as I pull at the cuffs, bucking against the chains, I scream.
I scream so loudly that everyone but Reverend Clark covers their ears.
“He’s in pain!” Cameron shouts, rushing toward the bed.
“No!” Julian yells, grabbing him around the waist to stop him.
And I see red. I see so much red that I can barely see anything else.
“Hands off,” I screech, my voice distorted slightly on the words. The bedframe shakes, my teeth shattering.
Julian swallows roughly, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes.
“What’s happening to him?!” Mother cries, and as I look at my hands, I see my fingertips changing color, with extending nails so sharp I’m scared I’ll cut myself.
“Stop,” I growl, tears prickling my eyes once more. “It hurts. Stop.”
“St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil...” Reverend Clark quotes.
And I can feel it: my consciousness slipping behind the bubble of pain surrounding me.
This is it. I’m going to lose control once again, and I’m either going to kill everyone here or I myself will die. Life as I know it is over.
My eyes shift to Cameron, who’s still being held by Julian, his hand outstretched to me.
“Atticus,” he whispers.
With my last bit of strength, I whisper, “I love you.”
Everything, once again, goes momentarily black as I’m forced behind that wall, left alone to watch the scene before me in silence.