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NO TIME WAS WASTED AFTER WAKING UP. Molly knew full well that the dream was not something conjured from her mind, but she had to be certain. She had to prove, for her own piece of mind, that Michael had did something this atrocious.
Without any further preparation than getting dressed, Molly transmuted herself into the woodland, which she had recognised as the forestry nearby the church she attended. She had tried to place herself in the exact position as her dream, but it wasn't hard to find anyway. The image was so far engraved in her mind, she couldn't forget it even if she tried.
There was a long stretch of ground that had clearly been tampered with - dirt freshly dug and a darker colour to the soil around it. Molly didn't come equipped with a shovel, nor would she have used one anyway. The girl merely lifted her hand and telekinetically lifted the dirt from the ground, placing it in a mound next to the makeshift grave.
Sure enough, there was a black bag identical to the one in her mind. Confirmation wasn't the only thing Molly had in her mind - any soul that could be saved from Michael's damnation, would be.
With a wince and grimace, she slid herself down into the long hole, crouching down until she hovered over the top of the bag. Tentatively, she reached toward it, unveiling it carefully. The sight of his face lifelessly suddenly staring back at her caused her to recoil, her breath hitching in her chest. Even if she knew who would be in the bag, it didn't make the suffering any easier.
The body was beginning to smell - a telltale sign that it probably had been disposed of around two days ago. She guessed it wasn't much longer after she had attended his mass service on Sunday.
"I'm sorry," Molly whispered quietly, her hand reaching forward to close his eyelids before she separated her fingers out over his face. With a strong mental push on her behalf, Molly willed his soul to rejoin his body, but after seconds of trying it was clear he wasn't coming back.
"What?" She whimpered to herself, completely confused. Molly attempted to revive him once more, but it was soon clear this wasn't a blockage in her power. This was Michael's doing.
He had did to this priest, exactly what he had done to the Satanists who attacked her.
With that realisation, a sob ripped from her throat. Her hand flew up to grasp her chest, desperately trying to control her breathing as she cried audibly, echoing through the trees. The guilt from her involvement with Michael weighed heavily on her, but mostly she felt humiliated and weak. After all, she was the one who trusted he wouldn't harm anyone for the duration of their agreement. Molly should have known better than to deal with the devil.
Tears strolling down her cheeks, Molly desperately scrambled out of the grave, her clothes and hands covered in dirt as a result. When finally on solid ground again, she decided to take a few minutes of solitude for contemplation and mourning.
