Chapter 7 – The First Confrontation

The sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky a smudge the color of bruises, and the house remained in heavy silence. Knowing that the evening ahead would be different from any he had ever experienced, Pastor John held his Bible securely as he waited at the front door of the Collins residence. It was more than simply a spirit. The darkness had intensified over decades of suffering, and it was a curse tethered by hatred.

Beside him, Thomas stood with his jaw clenched and his arms folded. He made an effort to conceal the anxiety that was etched on his face. "Are you certain that this is a smart idea?"

John looked at the house and said, "No." But there is nothing we can do. It is consuming her. We risk losing her permanently if we delay any longer.

With a dry throat, Thomas swallowed forcefully. "What am I supposed to do?"

Keep out of sight. Keep the kids upstairs regardless of what you hear. John's voice was strong but kind. Even though he didn't have to say it out loud, they both understood how risky this was.

John patted Thomas's shoulder and said, "I'll do whatever I can. But I require you to be strong. regardless of what happens tonight." Thomas hesitated, then nodded stiffly, realizing that this might be the final opportunity to save Eva because the woman he cherished was vanishing piece by piece and the thing taking her place was turning into something hideous.

Thomas stepped back, giving the priest room to enter. The door creaked as it opened, the sound like an old wound tearing. John exhaled slowly, crossing the threshold into the darkened house, and whispered a silent prayer.

The place was oddly silent—too quiet. The only noise was the faraway tick of the kitchen timer, counting down to the moment like a heartbeat. It was as though the walls were watching, the air oppressive, dense with something unsaid.

John kept his Bible close to his breast as he walked carefully around the house. The floorboards creaked under his weight with every step, and the shadows appeared to grow longer behind him, like dark fingers extending toward him.

His steady, deep voice shattered the stillness as he opened the Bible to a faded page and said, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

The room's temperature fell precipitously as he said those words. John felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as a chilly breeze blew through the corridors, rattling the windows. The lights flickered and faded until the walls were covered in shaky, feeble halos.

"Yeah, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will not fear evil," John added in an unwavering voice.

The smell of damp earth and rotting wood filled the air, and a faint, slithering whisper, like numerous voices speaking at once, rose through the shadows, its words unintelligible but its meaning clear: You don't belong here. Get out.

John knew that the spirit was awake now, watching, waiting, and his fingers clenched on the Bible as his breath frothed in the chilly air.

John turned his back on the entire length of the residence when he approached the very end of the long hallway, where the shadows appeared to be the darkest. The boy then materialized at the other end of the hallway.

With skinny arms dangling at his sides and pale skin, he appeared frail and little, no older than four years. His eyes were dark abysses that glowed with a fury that was far older than his years. His feet remained bare, leaving wet marks on the floorboards, and his tattered clothing dangled from his small frame.

John experienced a little twinge of sadness. This was not a demon; rather, it was a damaged, betrayed child who had never experienced kindness or love. But when the youngster looked up, the sadness left him. Those in black eyes glinted with something far darker than sadness.

"William..." John's heart constricted as he whispered. "You no longer belong here."

The boy's face remained unchanged. Like a puppet awaiting for its ropes to be pulled, he stood motionless. However, the atmosphere surrounding him appeared to tremble, warping the walls and the corridor as though reality itself were buckling under his weight.

The youngster said in a flat, hollow voice, "Go away."

John stepped forward. William, I am aware of what transpired with you. I understand your suffering. However, you are not required to do this.

The boy remained motionless for a while. His little face was emotionless as he gazed at the reverend with lifeless, soulless eyes.

Then his face contorted. His lips curled back, exposing rows of decaying teeth, and his mouth grew excessively wide. The youngster he had been was mocked by the hideous and merciless transformation of his once innocent visage.

His voice was deep and ancient, full of anger and bitterness, and when he spoke once more, it was not his own. The youngster growled, "You were too late before." "And it will be too late once more."

The boy's comments caused the walls to moan, and the lights flashed wildly, creating odd, jagged shadows that appeared to move by themselves. John felt the vise-like pressure of the thickening air as it squeezed the breath out of his lungs.

John held out the Bible once more, but the youngster approached, his steps slow and methodical, like a predator pursuing its victim.

The boy narrowed his eyes and said, "You can't save her." "I already have her."

John's heart was thumping in his chest, and his hands were shaking as he gripped the Bible more tightly. This was more than simply a restless soul; it was something old and evil, a force so strongly bonded by hatred that it had turned into a creature of utter wrath.

John's voice cracked with terror as he continued, "Leave this family alone."

A wicked, piercing smile curved the boy's lips. "They will turn on one another. As usual. His black eyes gleamed as he stepped closer. "I'll be waiting, too."

Then suddenly the child was gone, sucked whole by the darkness. Dead quiet descended upon the home, as though the meeting had never taken place. However, the chill persisted, seeping into John's bones, and leaving him gasping for air.

He stood still for a long time, his mind a jumbled mess, his heart pounding. The ghost was much more formidable and frightening than he had recalled. Eva wasn't the only one being tormented. She was being consumed by it. And there wouldn't be much left of herself to save if they didn't take action right away.

John clasped the Bible to his chest as he staggered back towards the front entrance. Even though the conflict had only started, he could already feel the pressure of defeat bearing down on him.

The home hovered behind him, motionless and observing as he ventured out into the darkness. It was the demon's turn. John was certain that the worst was still to come.