Sunday Morning , A Church in the New City
The family entered the grand stone church in stiff silence.
Bella wore a soft white dress. Her mother clutched her Bible like a shield.
Her father stayed close behind them — calm, watchful.
The stained glass caught the morning sun, bathing Bella in crimson and gold. She stood still in the aisle and smiled up at it, as if the light belonged to her.
But her eyes weren't on the windows.
They were on him.
The young priest at the altar — maybe twenty-five. Tall. Clean-cut. Eyes like silver storm clouds. His voice carried like velvet through the sanctuary as he spoke the gospel.
Bella tilted her head, lips parting slightly. Her heart didn't beat faster — but her curiosity did.
She whispered to herself:
> "He's beautiful."
---
After the Service
People greeted the priest, called him Father Elijah. He smiled kindly, shook hands. Pure. Gentle. Trusted.
Bella watched from a distance, almost dazed.
But her mother had other plans.
She marched over, dragging Bella by the wrist.
"She needs to speak to you," her mother said coldly. "There's a darkness in her. She's not right."
Bella pulled her arm back, hissing, "Let go of me."
But her mother didn't listen.
"She needs cleansing. An exorcism, maybe."
Father Elijah blinked. "That's a very serious—"
"Just talk to her. Alone. Please," her mother insisted.
Reluctantly, he agreed.
---
The Priest's Office
The room was warm. Bookshelves lined the walls. A crucifix hung above the desk. Candles flickered softly.
Bella sat down slowly. Her white dress glowing in the candlelight.
Father Elijah sat across from her.
"So," he said gently. "Why does your mother believe you have… darkness inside you?"
Bella didn't answer at first.
She traced her finger across the wood grain of the table, then looked up at him — eyes like ice, lips like sin.
"I think she's scared of what she doesn't understand."
"What do you mean?"
"She doesn't like that I'm… calm. While everyone else falls apart."
His brows furrowed. "Calm?"
"After death. After pain. I don't scream. I don't cry."
He studied her carefully.
"You've seen death?"
Bella smiled.
"I've tasted it."
Waiting Room
Her mother stood by the door, pacing like a lioness.
Her father sat silently on the bench, staring at the stained glass.
"Do you think the priest will help her?" she whispered.
Her husband looked up at her slowly.
"No," he said. "Because she doesn't want to be helped."
---
Back Inside
Father Elijah shifted in his seat, disturbed but intrigued.
"I think… your mother cares for you. But she doesn't know how to help."
"She doesn't care," Bella said flatly. "She wants me gone. Or buried."
"Then why come to church?"
Bella leaned forward slightly. Her voice was velvet and venom.
"To see you."
A pause.
"Me?"
She tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "You have kind eyes, Father. Maybe you can save me."
She stood slowly and walked to the door.
"But tell me," she said, looking back over her shoulder.
"If the devil wears white and smiles sweetly... would you still try to cast her out?"
Then she left the room.
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