The Devil Tainted Us (A Gothic, Age Gap and Forbidden Romance)

“This is a marvelous work, Agatha,” Helena mutters with pride and happiness, kissing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. I focus back on the landscape I’m working on when there is a light tap on the door.

It’s Tristen.

My body instantly tenses up as I pretend his presence to be invisible. My hands tremble a little as I paint the trees with a light sap green color.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he asks in a gruff tone as he steps inside the room.

No go away!

“Not at all. I was just telling Agatha; how beautiful her painting is.”

He walks ahead, standing beside me. Leaning close to look at my painting but I know it is just an excuse. He nods in admiration and places his hand on my shoulder, lightly caressing my exposed skin with his thumb.

“This is truly gorgeous. My little sister-in-law has a unique talent,” he mutters with a smile, looking at me with a gentle look. Anybody would be easily fooled seeing that expression, that hides the lurking monster who comes out when nobody is around, to haunt me with its darkness.

I instantly stand up and go to the other table where I pretend to clean the paint off my brush as I whisper a thank you.

“She really should study art when she goes to college,” Tristen suggests, standing beside Helena.

“I know some great teachers who can help her improve and practice more.” He places one hand inside his suit pocket and the other rests on my sister’s shoulder, while she looks at him with a bright smile filled with adoration.

“That is a great idea. She is usually free during the evenings so that would be perfect timing.” She looks at me. “What do you think, Agatha?”

I simply nod with a half-hearted smile.

“Perfect. I will contact her and let her know. She is a marvelous teacher, trust me.” Just then his phone rings and he excuses himself to pick up the call.

I keep my focus on cleaning my brush when Helena walks towards me, caressing my hair. Just what I need.

“Agatha?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know but something feels off. You can tell me you know. You can tell me anything you want without hesitating.”

Can I?

I don’t know how to even express through my words how dirty and wrong I feel whenever he is around me. How shame and guilt inks my heart and soul every time he touches me and there is nothing I can do about it.

How is he gaining everyone’s trust and love like he has been a part of this family from the very start?

But most of all, how can I tell my sister the truth when she is in love with him?

How can I break her heart when I have no proof against him…how can I hurt her?

But deep down I feel Helena might listen to me and believe my words…my nightmares. She has always cared and loved me more than anyone else.

Maybe…just maybe she will help me.

I open my mouth, picking up my bravado to finally confess when Tristen walks inside the room again.

“Sweetheart, the florist called. She is on her way.”

Helena straightens up and nods, hesitating to leave. “Okay, I will go to the living room then.”

She lightly cups my cheek offering me a soft smile before she walks away. Leaving me alone with the monster again.

* * *

When I wake up again, it is night time. A candelabra, holding three tall, white candles illuminates my room. I instantly sit up, finding myself in the same white attire.

Licking my lips, I look around. The shadow of the window falls on the floor by the moon. I let out a sigh of relief finding myself alone, but my mind starts to race with the events that happened today.

So much has happened.

I run a hand through my hair, going through the scenarios of today. It is not a puzzle anymore that I’m inside a church which has an asylum inside it. And the only place that has both is the Magdalene.

I have heard about this place a few times from the locals. And my mother even told me stories about it when I was a kid. It is described as a place to cure the ill or possessed ones, but it comes with a price. Some even say it’s nothing but cursed by God, which is why it is always dark and raining mostly. But I never thought I would end up being a victim of this place.

Tomorrow I will have to try to escape again, and the mere thought of returning to that room makes my body shudder. As I think of that moment, I can’t help but ponder about the man who is kind enough to guide me…to help me.

Who is he? Is he a member here?

Agnes called her father, which only hinted he is perhaps a priest here. But the question is, is he a savior or a villain?

I look at the door, feeling tempted to go out and escape right away, but something tells me it will be a foolish risk to take. But out of nowhere, I hear the lock rattling as if someone is coming in.

I quickly lie down and close my eyes, pretending to sleep, even though my heart starts to beat faster and faster when the door opens.

Calm down, Agatha. Calm your mind.

The heavy footsteps echo in, and I feel the person getting closer to my bed. Who is it?

Agnes?

I sense the person’s presence right beside me…so close.

“Your body is betraying you.” A familiar deep, gruff voice hushed close to my ears. It is the man from that room.

But I don’t cave in. I remain as still as possible, evening out my breathing.

“Even when you are failing, you still don’t give up,” he continues. “But it won’t last for long. You have been brought here for a reason and that must be fulfilled if you want to be free.”

Silence is my answer.

“If you truly want to be free here, then you have to give up. You have to obey or else when you return back, you will have nothing left.” He lightly brushes the back of his hand against my cheek, inhaling deep into my nose.

“It is said forbidden things are always tempting because they make you crave for it right through the core of your soul. Unfortunately for me, you are turning into a craving that even my soul can’t resist,” he whispers.

“But I have already sinned so much that I must control this too. Although, you won’t escape this. You will have to cave in and you will, little girl.”

It’s…him.

I feel him wrap his hand around my throat, turning my head to face him. My eyes are about to flutter open, to see my captor before he stops me.

“Keep your eyes closed, little girl,” he orders in a monotonous tone and without knowing I yield.

His nose runs along my jaw while my body turns paralyzed against his touch. His lips lightly brush against my cheek as they skate towards my lips, but never come in contact. My heartbeat paces up. A dark desire starts to bloom within me.

“I can feel your pulse racing,” he presses his thumb against my pulse point on my neck, “your skin is flushed just from my touch. Your hands are grabbing the sheets tightly, controlling your urges.”

I don’t realize I’m clutching onto the sheets until he mentions it.

“You are breathing like you are craving for air.” I am.

“But it’s something more that you want, something forbidden…something sinful. Do you know how I know it?”

I don’t respond. I can’t as words vanish from my mind.

“Because I want it too. I always take until the person has nothing left, but since the moment I met your fierce soul, I’ve never yearned for something so badly. And something tells me, one taste won’t be enough. I shouldn’t break the rules, but I’ve never abided by the rules.”

His words hold a dark promise that I should run away from, but my body unknowingly wants to rush towards its arms. His tone is filled with a desire that is pulling me closer and closer. I clench my thighs together, breathing heavily, syncing with his. He is dangerous and psychotic, something I should be scared of, but his actions and words send a thrill through my body.

“You want this, don’t you?” he asks, lightly licking my bottom lip, making my body shudder just from that light touch.

“No,” I rasp.

He chuckles under his breath, as I feel his chest rumble. “Lying is a sin too, little girl. Every soul is punished for it in this world and in after life.” His grasp on my neck tightens as he presses on my windpipe, but not enough to suffocate me.

“Tell the truth, little girl and you will be rewarded,” he whispers. “The truth. Do you want this?”

Say, no. Deny him.

My consciousness keeps demanding to push him away. But my heart goes against me as I whisper my answer.

“Yes…I want this.”

I feel him smile wickedly and the next second his lips press against mine. His other hand covers my eyes as if he knows I will disobey him and get a peek at him. I have been kissed before and they were always gentle, slow and sweet. But this?

This is the absolute opposite.

He kisses me deeply, pressing my head into the pillow. His tongue peeks out, mingling with mine. A deep groan erupts from the back of his throat, sending goose-bumps all over my skin. He nibbles on my bottom lip, nearly making my skin ache from that sweet, sweet ache. My control starts to vanish, as my desire takes hold of the leash.

My neck arches to give him better access. I kiss him back, matching his deep, fast pace. My hands snake around his neck, grasping his thick hair at the back.

He muffles my moans with his electric kiss. My sensations heightening like never before with his lips working their magic. I feel my mind taking the route through this dark desire, even though it is wrong. It all feels wrong.

He captured me, nearly killed me but saved me when I was having a breakdown. I should steer clear away from him.

And yet, I can’t get enough of his kiss.

It feels…hypnotic.

“So, much better than I imagined,” he breathes against my lips. I can feel wetness pooling between my thighs, making my entire skin flush with my nerves rushing faster.

“Hide all you want, little girl, but it’s a futile attempt when I can smell you from here. You are hungry for more, aren’t you?”

“Yes, please. More,” I murmur.

“Sometimes we don’t get everything we want, do we, little girl?” he mutters and suddenly pulls back, but he keeps my eyes covered.

“For more you’ll have to wait.”

I make a move to get his hand away but as if he was anticipating it, he takes both my hands and presses them above my head.

“Don’t do something you will regret later, little girl. Like I said, you will have to obey.”

“I can tell you want to break me but no matter what you do I won’t break so easily, you asshole.”

He lets out that familiar dark sadistic chuckle that makes my nerves pulse faster. “I will truly enjoy breaking you. The more you fight, the more I will shatter you like a glass. Before you know it, your soul will be crushed right in my palm. So, be careful what you wish for.”

“Even a single pawn can defeat the king and gain victory.”

“Time will tell who will be defeated, little girl. Have a good night, because your morning will be the start of your new nightmares”

He pulls his hand away and I instantly open my eyes, seeing him facing his back to me. Without giving a single glance over his shoulder, he walks out and locks the door.

I slump back into the bed, hiding my flushed face underneath my hands before letting them slide up into my hair. My eyes gaze upon the dark and cracked ceiling.

What the fuck happened?

How could I have even let him anywhere near me? Let my captor kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before. I could still feel his lips against mine and I traced my bottom lip where he nibbled me, the ache still imprinted.

His touch put me under his spell, that I didn’t see coming. How could he affect me like this?

I have to get the fuck out of here quickly before he brainwashes me any further.

But his warning left me baffled about tomorrow.

What will happen in the morning?

But I know I won’t be getting any answer until it’s morning, so, I let out a deep sigh and try to give my mind some rest after the hours of chaos I’ve been having.

* * *

Cold water splashes over my face, jolting me awake as I choke and cough.

“Get up. That’s enough sleep for one morning,” Agnes mutters in a sharp tone, putting the bucket down.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell, still slightly coughing.

She grabs me by my arm, pulling me out of bed and passes me a dress that she must have taken from the luggage.

“Get dressed right away. Otherwise, you’ll be late for the prayers,” she orders, taking a step back and folding her arms.

“I’m not getting dressed again in your presence,” I retort, pushing back my now wet hair.

She arches an eyebrow, not giving a damn about my protest. Clenching my jaw, I take off my wet dress and change into a new one but it was more like a maid’s dress that was used to be worn around 1960 perhaps.

“Follow me,” she mutters and I walk behind her until we reach the hallway where I was slapped yesterday. Everyone is already in their seats and hearing my approaching footsteps they all look over their shoulder.

Their blank, cold gazes nearly makes me shrink back but I continue following Agnes before we take our seat on the second bench. A girl is beside me, her hands tangled on her lap with her eyes cast down. She doesn’t even acknowledge me when I sit beside her. There is not a single reaction. I’m not much of a religious person as my sister and our parents never visited church that much or prayed in general.

There is pin drop silence in the room. It nearly feels as if I’m the only one in the room. Heavy footsteps echo inside the room as I find Father Geryon standing at the altar with a small book in his hand. He looks around as if analyzing each and everyone here, before nodding in approval and opening his book.

He starts to recite verses and everyone around me starts to repeat his words, line by line, word to word. But it is the monotonous tone that sends chills down my spine. They don’t even carry an ounce of emotion in their tones. It feels like they are all mechanical dolls and the priest’s words are the key that is twisted to let them function.

Something is seriously wrong with this place, and that includes the people too. But except for Agnes and him, I didn’t know whom else to find my way through.

My lips remain still while my eyes are busy looking around, searching for an escape.

“Repeat after him,” the girl beside me whispers, but doesn’t look at me. I frown.

“Do it before you cause another scene. At least pretend to be on the safe side.”

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I follow her lead and repeat his words as much as possible. The girl now seems to be someone who could be able to help me.

A tapestry catches my sight which is right behind the altar, positioned at the center of the wall, hanging from the ceiling. The circular stained glass above the entrance door lets the light from outside shine upon it. It has a series of knitted pictures like it’s telling a story. It begins with a girl falling down in a huge, dark hand with two people on top letting her go. Next it shows a man consoling a woman who looks broken and miserable. Then a black castle with a group of people facing front with a black shadow looming over them. The same girl who is being consoled looks nearly emotionless with the people surrounding her, with her hands looking red as if covered in blood, along with dark skies and crashing waves at the end corner of the tapestry.

Soon, Father Geryon’s recitation ends and suddenly all of them stand up with a straight posture while looking ahead. I follow with a nervous glance around. Father Geryon leaves with a nod as everyone scrambles away, perhaps to do something important.

“Come with me,” Agnes says and walks again, this time heading to the second floor to a room which is probably for washing clothes. A laundry-room. The condition of the walls and ceiling are the same as the ones in the hallway. There are three long columns of tubs till the end of the room with a mechanism used for twisting the clothes to rinse away the water. Huge piles of white clothes and bedsheets are set on the small table beside every tub. Few of the girls start to enter the room in a line, stopping by their designated spots and just stand there silently.

“Go to the corner and get to work,” she says.

“What?” I ask in confusion.

“Clean those clothes and there better not be a spot left,” she warns before dragging me to the empty tub area.

The tub looks like it hasn’t been cleaned for ages with black marks and smudges covering it from outside. There is a wooden washing tray and a box of detergent inside the tub.

“Start cleaning,” Agnes orders before she turns and walks ahead, standing at the wall beside the doorway. Everyone else around me starts to get on with their tasks right away, rubbing the clothes on the tray to get rid of any stains. The concentration painted on their faces was crystal clear, as if they were putting every ounce of their energy on this task.

I look forward and find the girl from earlier doing the same. Not knowing what to do, I lean the tray on the tub handle, pouring water over it to lather up the soap and place the wet clothes, moving them back and forth, washing them one after another.

The sounds of water splashing and snapping sounds of clothes when rinsing them.

It feels like hours passed but nobody complains about anything. Though the skin on my hands is turning raw with visible cracking. I can barely feel my palms. I stop for a minute to try to soothe my hands when Agnes marches towards me with a glare.

“Who told you to stop?” she asks sharply.

“My hands are aching. They are cracking,” I mutter, showing her the evidence even though she doesn’t look at them.

“Those are bound to happen but that doesn’t mean you have to stop. Others have no issues so you shouldn’t complain either,” she looks at the few clothes that are still untouched on my table, “Stop whining and finish your task.”

“I said, I can’t. My skin will peel off if I don’t rest my hands.”

She grinds her jaw and before I know it she goes to the back of the door and retrieves something from there. I can’t see what it is until she stands in front of me and in the next second strikes my arms with a cane.

“Ah!” I scream

Instant pain courses through my body but she doesn’t give a damn and continues to hit me back-to-back. I can feel my skin burning like an inferno from agony.

“Disobedience has penalties here,” she seethes through her clenched teeth as she rains strike after strike over my body. My knees give away from weakness as I kneel on the ground while Agnes continues punishing me.

I even try to shield myself but nothing helps. My gaze looks around for someone to help me but none of them make a single approach. All of them continue washing clothes like that is the only important task to do while a woman is being abused in front of their eyes.

I scream and yelp in pain, feeling tears stinging my eyes while my entire arm starts to turn red, burning my nerves as if I’ve been set on fire. She stops to make me stand up by my hair, hauling me out of the laundry room before taking me back to my room. She pushes me down on the floor, pressing the side of my face onto the ground with her feet with the heel of her shoe digging into my temple.

“I have been telling you since yesterday, warning you again and again. But you are truly testing my patience like nobody else. When you are given a task, you do it. If not then prepare your mind and body to earn the consequences for it,” she warns.

I try to push away her feet but the snap of the cane makes me pull back my hands. “Fuck, stop!” I cry out loud.

“No! You must be punished and learn your lesson,” she bawls.

I assemble myself for the gut-wrenching pain again but a familiar voice stops it, saving me from the torment.

“That’s enough, Agnes!”

Agnes right away steps back, dropping the cane and craning her head down. “She was not completing her task, Father. She was complaining unnecessarily.”

“And she seems to have been punished enough for it. Do not cross your limits, otherwise you will be the one in her place but much worse,” he threatens.

“But Father Geryon said-”

“If you are looking to be punished then keep up this behavior and you will be whipped ten times.”

She turns silent right away.

“Leave,” he orders and without hesitating she rushes out of the room. I let out a breath of relief, trying to relax my aching nerves even though it is useless.

I hear his heavy footsteps thudding closer to me before he kneels and picks me up, depositing me on the bed. I wrap my arms around myself, protecting and comforting my own self, shying away with my back facing him.

He darkly chuckles. “You weren’t moving away last night.”

His words infuriates me, making me want to slap the fuck out of him, but I can barely feel my arms after the hits Anges landed.

“The least you can be is grateful that you were saved before you fainted.”

I sit up and turn to hit him, but like he saw my movement coming he catches my wrist. And that’s when I see him.

And he looks…mesmerizing. His deep brown hair, with few grey strands mingling along, is slightly pushed back as a few strands touch his forehead. His almond skin is highlighted by the light coming from the window, featuring his sharp jawline which had a five o’ clock shadow. But his eyes…his deep black eyes are the most captivating sight. It seems to be holding intense and raw emotions that he isn’t willing to reveal and masks it with an emotionless look. He is also wearing a black cassock with the sleeves folded, showing off his muscular, veiny arms that have thorn stems inking on his skin. He even has a white collar peeking out that completes his priest attire. I notice a silver chain with a small cross pendant hanging around his neck. He seems to be either in his late thirties or early forties.

My eyes then fall on the small bite mark on his wrist, reminding me it was the same mark I left on my captor before I tried to escape.

It’s him.

A dark smirk crosses his lips, the same lips that took my breath away with a kiss. He knows what I’m thinking and there isn’t a drop of remorse or guilt in his eyes for the cruel act he committed by kidnapping me here.

“Perhaps your brother-in-law forgot to mention that you can be a major pain in the ass too,” he murmurs and leans towards the small table beside my bed to get a brown file that wasn’t there before.

He opens it and starts to look through it. “I wanted to do some checkup yesterday but you had a panic attack all of a sudden,” he looks at me above his lashes, “not a fan of hospital?”

“I’m not ill. Nothing is wrong with me,” I state.

He simply shrugs. “But your reports say otherwise. It says last year when you turned nineteen, you started to have a mental breakdown. Your sister’s death seems to be the trigger. But it even mentions you started having auditory-verbal hallucinations of your sister, where you saw and talked to her. You also attacked the staff members and doctors back at the previous hospital, nearly killing the doctor.” He closes the report, and this time he is analyzing me.

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you are crazy. There is a difference between craziness and illness. Mental illness is curable and a phase that everyone goes through because of how fucked up our lives are no matter how perfect you pretend it to be. Craziness is a stage when you don’t know the difference between sanity and reality, a stage when you can’t be healed,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving mine, “-but you have a chance to be better. Your medications will start tomorrow.”

“And the chores? Cleaning clothes and getting beaten is part of your treatment?”

“We believe in curing our patients mentally and spiritually. And being disciplined is part of it. Like I told you before, if you want to survive here then learn to obey, little girl.”

“Stop calling me that. I want to get out of here. You seem to be the doctor here so let me out.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t until you are fully recovered. Mr. Arthur has signed the papers and already paid for your treatment. So, you won’t be stepping a single foot out until I say so.”

“I don’t care. You and your friends kidnapped me, holding me against my will. I won’t hesitate to report you and your bullshit, fucked-up asylum-”

He leans close with a threatening look, sending shivers down my spine in sudden nervousness. “And then what? You think your single complaint will take me down? I will be ruined forever just from that one move? Here is the answer for you before disappointment hits you.”

He holds my jaw, pressing his fingers into my cheeks.

“Not even God Himself can take me down. I hold that much power here. So, try your best but it will be a waste. Nobody will believe your words even if you bring all evidence. So, it’s better you stop thinking of these hopeless things and focus on your curing process,” he mutters before letting go of my jaw and standing up.

“Sister Agnes will show you where the patients go to take their meds. Be there on time and report to me or her. And do your given chores without complaining, next time I won’t save you, knowing you were asking for it.”

Taking the file with him, he walks out of the room while my eyes are strained on his broad shoulders. When I’m finally alone, I look at my now bruised arms, hesitating to even touch them. My palms are still cracked from the laundry room.

I’m in pain. I’m hungry. I am tired.

But most of all I’m alone…nearly on the verge of losing my hope.

However, I’m not going to let this place or him break me. I will fight tooth and nail with him if I need to in order to survive. I will take thousands of hits but I will keep trying till my last breath.

I’m not going to be hopeless.

Never.