Faces of Beth, page 25
Prayer’ as you said before. It still haunts me. When I opened the
door, the first thing I noticed was little Bethany. I cannot see with my
eyes now, but I see this vision all the time.”
Sister Mary Francis put a hand to her mouth and cried. Tears
flowed down over her cheeks as she continued her story.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t spoken of this in a long time. Father Dennis’s
room was lit up with candles. He liked his candles. They were
everywhere. And in their orange glow I… I saw little Bethany. Only
six years old. She stood there completely naked with her hands
down at her sides, her legs spread open, and her eyes lowered to
the ground with so much shame on her face.
“As I glanced over her body to see if she’d been injured, I saw
blood dripping from her right hand. A long gash ran across her palm.
“The moment she saw me, she threw an arm over her chest, the
blood slathered hand smearing her flesh with red, and closed her
legs, cupping her left hand over her to hide her private parts, what I
myself had taught her was her special, private place that should
never be touched until she was one day married and in love.
“’I didn’t want to,’ Bethany cried. ‘I didn’t want him to touch me. I
didn’t want to touch the book.’
“Bethany’s body began to twitch. It was the strangest thing. If
you’d asked me then, I would have had no idea what was
happening. But now, I do believe this was the moment that, as you
say, her mind fractured. I think this was what broke her. She twitched
and she looked lost.
“A hiss came from my right, yanking my attention away from her.
Somehow, I’d been so appalled by what I’d seen, I missed the fact
that standing only a few feet to my right, where he’d been making
this little girl model naked for him, was Father Dennis. Only he was
dressed in a nun’s habit. His face was pale, the rings under his eyes
were so much darker, and his skin was ashy. It was brittle and flaking
away.
“Father Dennis turned toward me and every prayer I’d ever
learned left my mind. Terror filled my heart. In his right hand was the
black, dark bible of his, opened to a page with one dainty red
handprint. He’d used Bethany’s hand in his book. Her blood.
“He glared at me and yelled one word. ‘You!’ He took two steps
closer to me and as unbelievable as this will sound, a long and
purple tongue slithered out of his mouth the way a snake would dart
from its hole. It lashed out at me, and I fell backward in my attempt to
dodge it. I stumbled right out of his room and into the hallway.
“The door slammed shut in front of me. My prayers came back to
me. I leapt to my feet and ran at the door, slamming my fist against it
as I recited prayers I was ashamed I’d forgotten in the face of evil. I
clutched my rosary in my left hand and banged on the door with my
right. Screams emitted from inside the room. Male and female. A war
waged on the other side and all I could do was listen to this six-year-
old angel fight off a demon that had slithered its way through our
door.
“Finally, one of my prayers worked and the door opened on a
scene I still can’t believe to this day. That little girl was on top of
Father Dennis, still in his nun’s habit, and she was growling at him as
she smashed her fists against his face, throat, and chest. Blood from
her cut right hand splattered his face and flung across the room as
she battered him with all the might her tiny body had.
“Father Dennis was laughing at her, but she kept fighting with the
strength of a grown man. The priest couldn’t physically knock her off
him. She had pinned him to the floor and was beating him
uncontrollably.
“A strange wind kicked up during their battle. It blew the books off
Father Dennis’s shelves and threw papers around the room. Some
of the candles went out, casting shadows over most of the room, but
one of the candles tipped over and the flame went wild. It raced over
the pages of a book left on the priest’s desk. It ran down the side of
the desk and crawled over Father Dennis’s habit. That nun’s habit he
should have never been wearing was suddenly ablaze.
“Father Dennis cackled, screaming as the flames lit up his head
and hair. I ran into the room just in time to yank little Bethany off him
and shoved her into the hallway, but as I turned to flee with her,
Father Dennis wrapped one burning arm around my face and set my
veil on fire.”
Sister Mary Francis lowered her face to her desk. Even minus
sight, her eyes seemed to drop in shame or in defeat.
“I was able to escape him and slam the door shut behind me,
locking him inside, even as my scalp and upper portion of my face
burned and melted. I would never see again, but I could hear the
sounds of him howling in pain and screaming in agony as he burned
on the other side of that door.
“That’s the story of how the school went down in flames. We were
able to get all the kids out. Father Dennis died that night. He burned
alive.”
Sister Mary Francis paused, then touched her hands together
softly.
“Now, you understand what happened here,” she said. “Of
course, the church was rebuilt, the part that burned down, but we
never rebuilt the school. That’s why the back part of the building is
shaped oddly. We refused to build on what we considered tainted
ground. And back behind the church is the cemetery so we,
unfortunately, did not have enough land to continue on with the
school.”
Andrew listened to the entire story. The tale was more twisted
than he’d imagined. The disgusting son of a bitch had dressed like a
nun to lure a child out of her secure surroundings and into his lair
where he stripped her naked and was about to do God knows what
to her if not for Sister Mary Francis stepping in and saving her.
Who knew what unimaginable things he’d already done to her all
those other times he’d been able to whisk her away from the nuns
and hide her in his office? That secret was forever locked deep
inside her in a place even she could never break into. Only that
demon priest who wasn’t a priest knew what he’d accomplished so
many years ago, and only he knew what he still had in store for her.
“You’re quiet,” Sister Mary Francis said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Andrew admitted. “It all sounds so—”
“Unbelievable?” she asked.
“Yeah, but then again, everything I’ve seen seems unreal so
this… this is just another layer of insanity to pile on the rest.”
They all remained silent for a minute. Alex chewed on one
fingernail and as she did, Andrew reached out to her and took her
other hand, opening up her fingers, and revealing the scar on her
palm. The scar he’d asked her about and she’d said she couldn’t
remember where it came from.
“He did this to her,” Andrew said, running his fingers over the
rough surface of her skin. “She still has the scar on her palm.”
“I am sorry,” the nun replied. “I believe he left us all with scars.”
She’d lost her sight. That was one hell of a scar.
“I’ve seen him,” Andrew said. “In my house and where I work and
—"
“Maybe the shock was too much,” Sister Mary Francis replied.
“Maybe she created a personality to match his to, I don’t know, scare
away anyone else who might try to touch her inappropriately?”
“I’m her husband.”
“You’re Beth’s husband, but not Alex’s or any of the other
personas.”
He thought about this for a moment and almost accepted it
before quickly snapping out of it and shaking his head. “No. No, I’ve
seen him.”
“I’m sure you have, Andrew. Like you’re seeing Alex right now
and—”
“No, you’re not listening. I’ve actually seen him. He isn’t one of
her personalities. He leaves her body. I’ve seen him, a physical
manifestation of him, side by side with Beth. I once saw him on top
of Alex as she slept, with his demon tongue licking her face.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible.”
“Sister, the church performs exorcisms. I’m sure there has been
much more that has happened that’s fallen outside the realm of
possibility.”
She nodded. “Perhaps, but this. He was a real man. A member of
this church. Evil, yes, but real. I do believe Father Dennis became
possessed during his time here. Something in that black book. He
must have become obsessed with something he was studying and
perhaps it became obsessed with him. I suppose if he made some
kind of pact with… I don’t know, Andrew. This all just seems so—”
The lights in the room flickered.
Alex looked up at the lamp to her right.
They flickered again and she shifted her gaze to the lamp on the
left.
“Uh oh,” Alex whispered. “I think he’s here.”
“Who’s here?” Sister Mary Francis asked.
Andrew thought it was a dumb question, but then again, she
hadn’t yet seen the demon priest, not since her run-in with him all
those years ago when he was still in human form. Not that she would
see him now with her eyesight gone.
It was his wide-brimmed hat that came into view first, rising from
behind her seat, in stark contrast to her tan veil. His black sleeves
might have remained hidden behind her broad shoulders if he didn’t
have them out to his sides with his palms raised to the sky as if
calling down lightning from above. His jagged fingernails curled
inward, making a clacking sound as his knuckles popped and
cracked in defiance.
His purple tongue split down the middle as it unfurled around the
right side of her face, slithering away from him like a serpent.
Sister Mary Francis froze in place, her lifeless eyes glancing right
even though they’d never see the evil lingering there. She seemed to
sense it.
Then he stood upright, towering over her, glaring down at her
with a sneer that put his full hatred on display. Black veins pulsed
over his pale white cheeks and as he sucked his tongue back into
his mouth, his throat moved with a giant gulp that made it look like it
might burst to make room for it. His gritted teeth chipped and
crumbled a bit, shards of white enamel spilling out with his thick
mucusy spittle.
The nun sitting in front of him sat rigid at first, fear written on her
face, but then it was like she realized once again she was in the
house of God. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled.
“Good evening, Dennis,” she said.
“Youuuuuuuu biiiiiiiitch,” he growled.
One clawed hand came up, and it was clear to Andrew he was
about to attack. He’d seen it twice this evening, and he wasn’t about
to let her fall victim to the same trick.
“Sister!” Andrew yelled. “Duck!”
He jumped out of his chair, ran at the desk, and leapt over as the
nun leaned forward. Andrew sailed through the air with his fist
raised, ready to pummel the demon priest where he stood, but right
when his fist should have connected with the creature’s bony chin,
the demon disappeared. Andrew smashed into the wooden cabinet
behind the nun. Framed documents fell from the wall and shattered
on the floor.
“Gotcha, bitch,” Father Dennis announced, and Andrew knew
even before he rose to his feet what he was going to see.
As he gripped the desk and pulled himself up to his knees, he
saw Alex’s broken body fall to the ground, not as Beth, but as a six-
year-old with ribbons keeping her brown hair in pigtails. She wore
blue jean overalls, a pink T-shirt, and her face hung to the side.
Lifeless.
Tongue lolling out of her mouth.
Her neck snapped.
Eyes that were once so full of life now reduced to brown voids,
blank circular pools that spent their last seconds wondering why.
Just why. Frozen now in that state of fear and bewilderment.
Alex was dead.
Not Alex. No, not Alex. I didn’t even get the chance to say
goodbye.
Beth’s sleeping body sat slumped over in the chair and Father
Dennis was once again gone.
22
“No,” Andrew said, dropping to his knees to stroke little Alex’s
forehead.
He felt an overwhelming need to push her bangs away from her
eyes. Over the years, he’d stared at his wife’s face as she acted out
the whims of a child whenever Alexandra was out of her room and in
control of Beth’s body. But if he’d ever closed his eyes and tried to
picture the body that would match the voice, the attitude, and the
energy that was Alex, this would be it.
“What has happened?” Sister Mary Francis asked, still seated at
her desk.
Andrew looked back at her with tears welling up in his eyes. He
wished she could see the havoc caused by the old priest who’d once
walked these grounds. The old bastard now destroying the world
around him.
“She’s dead,” Andrew answered.
He gently lay the child down on the ground and stood to be near
his wife who was still passed out in her chair.
“Who is dead?” the nun asked. “Bethany?” When he didn’t
answer quickly enough, she asked again, “Is Bethany dead?”
Andrew watched his wife’s chest rise and fall with her breath.
“She’s not dead. That’s the thing. The demon, Father Dennis, kills
her over and over again. He slashes her throat, chokes her to death,
breaks her neck. But each time he does it, he kills the personality in
control of her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not the only one. The weirdest fucking part – shit, I’m
sorry. My language. You know what, fuck it. We’ve got bigger
problems, Sister. The weirdest fucking part is when he kills the
personality, they die and become real.”
“What do you mean they become real?”
“It’s like they fall out of her body as a real person. First, it was
Peter. The teenage boy. When Father Dennis killed Beth with him
inside her, she collapsed on my living room floor, but when she fell,
an actual teenage boy fell to the floor too, outside her body. The
same thing happened in the hotel room when Father Dennis killed
Beth again with Ruby in control. And now, this time, with Alex. Sister,
come here. I know you can’t see, but maybe you can feel.”
Sister Mary Francis stood from her desk and reached out.
Andrew took her by the hand and helped her walk around to where
Alex’s body lay on the floor.
“Can you get to your knees?” he asked.
“Getting down is never the problem. But getting up, I will need
your help with that.”
She carefully dropped to her knees, and Andrew took her right
hand and led her to Beth’s leg.
“This is Beth,” he told her. “You can feel she’s asleep in this chair.
She collapsed in it when Father Dennis dropped her.”
The nun ran her fingers up Beth’s calf and thigh until she felt her
ribs and arm and then touched her face. “She is still very beautiful.”
“She is,” he agreed. “Now, remember Alex was in control of her
when we were talking?”
“Yes, of course.
Andrew took her hand and led her down to Alex’s forehead.
That’s where he let go.
“Father Dennis snapped Beth’s neck with Alex in control,” he
informed her, “and I don’t know how to tell you this, but there is a
dead six-year-old lying on your office floor.”
Sister Mary Francis traced over Alex’s face with the fingertips of
her right hand. Her left hand went to her mouth where she cupped it
and stifled a cry.
“I know,” Andrew said, “but she’ll disappear soon. It happens
every time.”
“Disappear?” The nun’s hand was still on Alex’s leg when the
child began to dematerialize. “Oh,” she called out as her hand
passed through the leg. “What is… what is happening?”
“Like that,” Andrew told her. “Her body is disappearing right now.
She’s vanishing.”
The nun’s blind eyes were on the spot where Alex had been only
seconds before. She brought them up to meet Andrew’s face but
never quite settled on him. It seemed she was peering at something
over his shoulder.
“Sister,” he said.
She adjusted her face, so it seemed she was now looking at him.
