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

Five days have passed by and I was starting to understand the routine of this place.

Five days have passed since I last saw him. After he saved me again, he didn’t come to see me or talk with me. I didn’t even find him anywhere around the building when I followed Agnes from one room to another for doing my chores which was nothing but a pain in the ass.

Every morning starts with us waking up, washing our face and mouth before going for the prayers. Everyone would then be assigned to a certain chore and sent to their designated area to work without any arguments. Only two times a day a meal is served during lunch and dinner. Afterwards, we would go to the second floor to stand in the line where we are given tablets and medicines from a small counter to be taken on time after we are done eating.

And yesterday at the end of the day we were sent to a confession room that is on the second floor, with a vast confession box that looked more ancient than my grandparents times perhaps. Father Geryon was inside it and told us to confess our sins we may have thought of or did in the following days. We waited in line outside the door and only entered when our names were called. I didn’t have anything to confess but my words weren’t believed which only ended up me being punished by Agnes again when I was back in my room.

Most of the patients here seem to be lifeless but there are few ones who will suddenly scream or yell at a random situation. Crying like they are in constant agony, clawing the walls while kneeling on the floor. They are ignored most of the time by the nuns and priests but if it gets too much then they are taken to the checkup room where they will come out like nothing happened.

Everything is done in an order and in strict times that it nearly feels like I’m in a boarding school but a much worse place.

So far, Agnes seems to be second in-charge after the priests here. There are three more nuns too but even they dance to Agnes’ tune.

I keep observing the place and the timetable to plan out my escape. I can’t do anything in haste here knowing well I will be caught and punished severely for it. Every step I take has to be thought out and taken carefully. One wrong move and everything will be over.

I try to get to talk with the girl who seems to be the only one talking with me every now and then, guiding me with my chores secretly. She definitely knows something and perhaps a safe route to my freedom.

But it’s tough to even get to talk with her privately with the nuns and priests keeping a watch on us for twenty-four hours. Like even now, we are standing in the line to take our medications with her right in front of me, but I can’t talk with her while Agnes is keeping an eye on everyone.

With every patient passing by after they are done, we move one step forward. I look over my shoulder for a quick glance and when I’m sure Agnes is away from earshot, I lean a bit close to the girl.

“Don’t say anything here,” she barely whispers as if she knew I was going to approach her.

“Why not? She can’t hear us,” I keep my voice as low as possible.

“The other patients might report to her.” We take a step forward. “And if you think I’m going to help you then you are wrong. I can’t do anything.” She keeps looking forward.

“Then why were you giving me guides all these times? Why me?”

“Because you reminded me of someone that I lost because I didn’t help her even though I could have. But don’t expect anything more from me. It’s nearly impossible to leave this building even, Agatha.”

“You know my name?”

“You have become quite the recent topic since you arrived.”

“What is your name?”

“Bethany. But you can call me Beth,” she murmurs in a hushed tone.

“Beth, we have to try. You said it’s nearly impossible but not fully impossible. We can try and escape. Don’t you want to go back and have your life with your family? Or on your own?” I ask.

“My family was the one who sent me just because they thought falling in love with a woman is a sin and illness.”

I remain silent for a few seconds not knowing how to respond to that as we get closer to the small booth.

“You still have to help me-”

“Like I said, I can’t. If I do then they will kill me. Hang me from the rooftop. I know that because I saw it happening.”

My skin turns cold from her words in instant fear. My eyes automatically look up, thinking about the rooftop. I was cleaning the stone pavement at the front yesterday, noticing a concrete, broken and dark smudged statue of an angel at top. But now I can’t stop thinking if that is the place from where the person was hung from.

“I said next!” the nun at the booth sneers, tapping on the wooden table where she rested her hand. I blink my eyes, feeling my heart beat race faster as I nod at her. She passes me my usual white and red tablets and checks my name on the paper she usually uses for everyone. The woman is probably in her mid-sixties, looking like the eldest member of the Magdalene. She is even wearing the same nun dress like Agnes but she has glasses resting on her nose. She never talks much either and did her job with giving the medicines and checking that everyone takes it.

After I’m done for the day, Agnes follows me like a shadow until I reach my room and thankfully leaves me alone after I close the door. I quickly change my clothes wanting to get rid of the uneasiness I have been feeling since morning. As I lie on my bed, looking at the ceiling, Beth’s words grip me to my core, taking bits of my hope and tearing into shreds slowly.

The more I look for a way, the more I find myself lost. I turn to my side, facing the window where nothing but the dark sky greets me with the cold wind howling in. As there is no blanket, I hug myself for comfort.

I have never felt so alone and deep down I blame Tristen for putting me in such a situation. Everything mentioned in that report is a lie, except for hurting the hospital staff but I had to do what I needed to do to save myself.

I’m being blamed for accusations that aren’t true at all and yet everyone around me is trying to prove me wrong.

I have a hope that perhaps Beth will be able to help me but now even she has refused. The only person I can think of to rescue me from this dark place is none other than the devil who captured me. But I don’t have faith in him.

Trusting a sinner can be dangerous.

Eventually, I close my eyes, drowning into a slumber with my mind running wild with thoughts.

* * *

I don’t know what happens but my eyes snap open. I notice it is still night time. I sit up, frowning in confusion, feeling my body way too warm as if I have fever. I look around my room which is empty.

But I just feel something uncertain here. Like something is here but I have no clue about it. I gulp, licking my bottom lip before I take the candelabra walking towards the door which is surprisingly unlocked. I open it and step out in the hallway, looking left and right before taking the path down the stairs. My feet creak slightly with every step I take, when a scratching sound halts me at the second floor.

“Anybody out there?” I ask.

I look over my shoulder, feeling my heart drumming loudly, to see a pitch-black hallway. It is the floor of other patients where the laundry and library room are. I walk ahead, holding the candelabra forward, hearing the scratching sound turning louder. Shivers run down my spine with my throat clogging. When I reach the end, a white figure kneeling on the floor with her nails dragging along the wall comes into my sight. There is also something written on the wall with red paint as it drips on the floor.

THE DEVIL AND THE GOD ARE RAGING INSIDE US.

I inhale a shaky breath, feeling my palms turning sweaty and my hands trembling slightly. She keeps scratching the wall, leaving her nail marks on it, not caring that her fingers are already turning bloody.

Her black, wet hair curtains her face. She is wearing the same dress as me but some portions are torn. I slightly lean towards her, touching her shoulder, giving her a little shake.

But she suddenly stops clawing the wall and snaps her head towards me, her hair still shrouding her face from me. I take a step back cautiously, trying to normalize my breathing. She is still as a statue, and I feel she isn’t probably breathing either.

“A-are you okay?” I whisper.

Suddenly, she catches my wrist and tugs me close to her, making me shriek. Her grip feels so tight that I feel she will break my hand into two. She is so close that her hair is touching my cheek.

“You are guilty. You are guilty,” she rasps in a broken voice.

“W-what?’ I barely whisper.

Suddenly she holds me by my hair and I let out a scream but it gets muffled when she presses my head against the wall tightly that I’m sure every inch of my face will be bruised with scars.

“You are guilty, Agatha. You did this to her,” she murmurs close to my hair. She presses my head even more, making my whole skin ache in agony.

Luckily, thinking through for a second, I hold onto the candelabra tightly and hit it with her as she stumbles back. Without hesitating I hit her again with the candles falling on the ground and douses by turning the whole hallway dark now.

Shit.

Out of nowhere I feel her hands choking me, pushing me against the wall again.

“You killed her. She died because of you,” she hisses. “You killed your sister. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.”

I give it all to pry off her hands but I can’t find her hands. I can feel them nearly suffocating me but I can’t find them.

“She died because of you. You will be punished. God will punish you.”

I feel an excruciating pain travelling through my neck as her nails dug into my skin. I’m fearful that she will rip away my skin. My pulse is racing, my heart is beating at full speed. Terror is controlling my body as I feel the air being sucked away from my body while suffocating. She presses on my windpipe more roughly, cutting off my breathing slowly.

My lungs start to burn as my eyelids start to close off bit by bit. My throat turns dry like sand.

“Agatha! Agatha!” a voice calls out loud, shaking my body. But it isn’t the woman’s voice anymore.

“Agatha! Can you hear me?” It is him.

I try to fight through the darkness, finding my way out by following his voice. But I feel she is forcing me furthermore.

Fight through it, Agatha. Fight.

“Fuck! Agatha!” he says, almost screams.

I feel like I’m suddenly pulled away from the darkness and into the light, no longer being tortured by an unknown woman. My entire body jolts followed by shivering, with my wide, wild eyes looking around. I take in a lungful of air, feeling relieved I can finally breathe.

He comes in my sight, lightly tapping my cheeks while his other arm wraps around my waist. I am on the floor, my head against his chest while I keep breathing steadily, trying to control my racing heart.

I search for the woman who nearly tried to kill me, haunting me to my soul.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, frowning in confusion.

“T-there was a woman. She tried to kill me by choking. I-I couldn’t breathe,” I stutter with a raspy voice.

“What are you talking about? Which woman?”

“She was here. I saw her at the wall,” I point at the wall which no longer has the scratch marks or the writing. “S-she was here. I swear. She was scratching the wall and then suddenly she was holding me by my throat.”

“There was no one here when I found you.”

My brows furrow together. “What do you mean?”

“You were screaming for help. I found you writhing on the floor like someone was giving you an electric shock. Your entire body was trembling like that day at the checkup room. Perhaps you were having another anxiety attack or a seizure.”

I shake my head, trying to stand up but he beats me to it and helps me. “I’m not lying. I saw someone here.”

But the look on his face is evidence enough to tell me he doesn’t believe me at all. The sight feels like a stab in my heart but I don’t reflect it on my face.

“You know it’s against the rules to roam around the halls after bedtime-”

“Take your rules and shove it up your ass,” I sneer. “I know what I saw. You don’t have to believe me but I’m telling the truth.”

“Go back to your room, Agatha. You need rest after your medications.”

I push him on the chest but he doesn’t budge. “Fuck off.”

I walk past him but suddenly he grasps my wrist and turns me around, bringing our bodies close with my breasts pressing against his chest and my hand positions behind my back.

“Your reluctance will be your downfall, little girl. I’m trying my best to control myself around you, because trust me,” he leans closer that his breath is tickling my cheeks, “-you don’t want to get yourself haunted with my cruel side. So, think carefully about your words before you speak them.”

My eyes never leave his intense ones, feeling my heart thumping faster. Even in the dimly lit hallway by the moonlight, I can see the flicker of a forbidden and dark emotion painted on his face. His touch sends a shiver through my body, making my blood rush.

“Go back. Right now.” He lets go of my hand and I don’t hesitate to turn around and walk back to my room. By the time I reach my room, I close the door and instantly reach for my neck to feel the scars she left. But there is nothing but smooth skin. I don’t feel any burning either like I sense from a bruise.

I frown in confusion and move my hand to touch my face where I’m sure I will feel a cut or aching from being pressed to that wall. But again, I’m proven wrong.

What the…

How is this…it’s impossible.

I know it to my core that what happened is real. None of it is a dream or nightmare.

It. Is. Real.

But what is the conclusion for my missing bruises and scars that I felt every second in that moment. How can this even happen?

I run a hand through my hair and sit on the bed. Sleep vanishes from my eyes and when I look at the window it seems like dawn is arriving.

The woman’s words keep ringing in my ears and mind like a curse. How did she know I have a sister?

Why was she blaming me?

Who was she even?

So many questions and yet I have answers to none. There is no way in hell I’m going to console myself with false words, telling myself that it was perhaps a nightmare and I was sleepwalking. The moment felt real, the pain felt real.

I know the difference between a dream and reality, and she is nowhere near a mere imagination. She has to be one of the patients, that explains her dress too.

But who would do that? Who would know about my sister?