The demon who dared set foot in this chapel, the monster who had defiled this holy ground, held her fast. Pulling on the cord. Unrelenting. Strong with dark and deadly purpose.
Camille’s lungs were on fire, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would burst. Through eyes round with fear, she saw only a wash of red.
Oh, Dear Father, the pain!
Again, she tried to suck in one bit of air, but failed.
Her lungs shrieked.
Brutal strength, infused by a cold dark wrath, cinched the garrotte still tighter.
Agony ripped through her.
“Whore,” the voice accused. “Daughter of Satan.”
No!
Eyes open, again she saw the image of Christ on the cross, a film of scarlet distorting his perfect face, tears like blood running from his eyes.
I love you.
The deluge of sins that was her life washed over her—quicksilver images of those she had wronged. Her mother
and father, her sister, her best friend … So many people, some who had loved her … the innocents.
This was her punishment, she realized, her hands falling from her neck to scrape down her abdomen and linger for a second over her womb.
In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, wash my soul clean…. Forgive me, for I have
sinned
…