Caeli |(EDITING)

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 and 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 little girl. Things just happened a little different for me than the other kids and it originally wasn't a problem.

I didn't talk much, not to my parents, neighbors or the other children in school and now thinking of it, I don't really know why or where it went wrong. I just found myself in a bunch of kids occasionally and I couldn't feel what they felt or act like they did, if that's the best way to put it.

Coupled with the fact I lived in a little town where everything was everyone's business, It really didn't take long before people started noticing how I was. It was either Mary this or Mary that, all revolving around the fact I wasn't developing as I ought to.

My parents got the blame for everything cause it didn't really take long before people concluded I was abused. One became another and before I knew it, a bunch of people kept coming without invitation, searching for whatever. One time I had to stay with my teacher for a month while the whole investigation happened.

I can't place a finger on the exact time but people soon got used to the fact I was just like that and nothing could really change me.

When I turned fifteen, things changed. I started paying more attention to myself, it was that time I tried to amend for all that happened the past years. I looked for things I loved but in a town so small and only little exposure to the world outside, I couldn't really find things I loved.

Now, that's when the trouble started.

You see, my parents were religious people. Attending church services every now and then. My mom held a position in the society and my father one enough to be described as one of the most important even outside the town. I was the only stain to their reputation and once I was brought up, whether physically present or not, I never seized to be the problem. Everyone talked about Mr Wilson's daughter and how much she was.

I became the talk of the town basically and it happened a lot more frequently than expected, mostly when my father lost an opportunity at something because of his daughter. 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 and they didn't understand why I looked or acted that way. Well, to be honest, I never understood why either.

To think that all of that was done for a child that was only adopted.

From there, I wasn't really allowed outside any more. My movements were restricted and my exposure to the outside world ended there. It happened too sudden to go without a reason but I didn't think too much about it till 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 or the words she said either. She said things like give me back my girl or I want my daughter back or leave her alone.

I didn't know who she was talking to or why she said stuff like that when it was just both of us in the room and I wasn't smart enough to connect the dots at the time. She thought I was possessed or something and I'd casually replied i am her before I knew that.

This continued till I got to the age of nineteen when I started hearing voices in my head. Yes, it sounds crazy but it was true, these things actually happened to me. 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 and with everything, I would only hear one word.

Come.

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

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

It was during those days I needed help the most so I tried to talk to my mother about it but I guess I'd gone too far to have that opportunity. I did try, fruitless but an effort is an effort, either futile or not. I made the decision to speak to anyone that would hear me but before I could, I lost both parents.

It was a hot afternoon and the sky had just darkened as though it would rain. Then,.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 and from the way it looked, it happen not long before I stepped outside.

The terror I felt I cannot describe, I'd never seen anything so brutal in my entire life. I hadn't even seen so much blood before or from anyone so close to me. I was terrified and even more, I was afraid cause I'd lost those that had the smallest idea of who I truly was. No one knew me as much they did, even though they never really knew all of me.

They didn't see anyone go in or come out of the house and the door had been locked so logically, I would be tagged the killer. Everything was against me and I just knew what would happen even before it played out before me. The looks that gave me and the whispers and once one person had the confidence to speak out, everyone spoke and it was then I realized how much I didn't belong.

I wasn't taken to jail and I definitely didn't serve any sentence, I was taken somewhere else and as it is, somewhere far worse. The asylum was the best option, seeing I wasn't even in my twenties yet and I'd thought it would be even better but life has never been fair, now has it? Who am I to complain.