Painted in Red (SPIN-OFF)

Chapter 1- Where it all Started

--Maria POV--

The church bells rang in a soothing melody, and the choir sang in sync with their voices seeming to have been gifted by the angels; The sweet melody sent a soft jolt of comfort to my rigid heart as if to remind me that I was still a human, just like any other person in this room.

My hands held each other above my face as I sent a prayer up to the God that I hoped would listen to it and answer it with his benevolence. I wished, not just upon him, but to all the stars in the night sky, the moon, and even the ball of fire that was called the sun. I prayed to a God that I wasn't even sure existed, but I prayed in desperation, nonetheless, hoping that he, at the very least, would listen to me when the rest of the world didn't.

"Dear child, what are you so afraid of?"

And the person who called out to me didn't end up being God, but one of his many servants.

"I believe you are asking the wrong question, Mr Priest... It would make more sense to ask me what I am not afraid of," I sighed, whispering up at the man in black as he chuckled, coming to sit beside me while my eyes remained on the choir on the stage.

"Still going along with the Mr Priest, I see. We priests are referred to as father, so call me father, Maria." With the sound of his stifled, amused laughter, a small smile crept onto my own lips as I looked at him from the corner of my eyes before turning back to look ahead of me.

"You ask me the same question whenever I come to visit you, I'd think you would have gotten bored by now, but alas, you prove me wrong every time, and I still answer in the same way that I always do... I have long since forgotten what it's like to live a life without fear. If fear is all that embraces me in this world, what would it make me to ignore that?"

"You are an odd child." Just as I answered, he replied in the same way.

"Possibly because I'm not a child." I pointed out.

"We are all children," I had his words memorised like a script by now, and I couldn't help but wonder how he wanted me to reply every time he said that.

"Perhaps. But perhaps not... You asked me what I was so afraid of..." I finally shifted my gaze, softening it up ever so slightly as I looked to the old man sitting beside me, answering his curious question for the first time today in a truthful manner.

"I am afraid of losing."

He blinked, surprised, looking at me in a way I don't believe he's ever done before, but I couldn't get used to it as it quickly vanished, being replaced with his hushed laughter, letting me know that he took my words for the simple sentence that it was, unknowing of the deepness behind it, and I wondered if that should make me happy or unsurprised?

"Aren't we all?"

"No. Some of us are born with the world served on a golden platter, always winning, and never losing, loss isn't a word in their dictionary. Others are born knowing nothing but loss... Tell me, father, which do you think I am?"

He didn't reply, and I found my answer in his silence.

"I have never won in my life; I have gotten so used to losing that I am not even aware that I'm losing anymore... I am grateful for what I have, but I am a greedy woman who doesn't care for something as delusional as peace. So, for once in my life, I will do what I have to, to experience what it means to win."

"Maria." He called my name, a look of concern flashing over his face.

"And I am afraid to ask this God for help. I am afraid that he's not listening, but I'm also afraid that if he listens, he won't answer. I am a sinner, and I am going to keep sinning, I am afraid of losing the love of a being I'm not even sure exists. So, I am afraid of a great many number of things, father... Can you still look at me the same?"