𝕳𝖊'𝖘 𝕷𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝕬 𝕳𝖞𝖆𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖍

{ Luke 6:37 }

Chapter 10's song: Cronos By Jo Blankenburg

——————
{ "Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven." }
——————

'I have to be nice to him, however, gosh, I don't think I can, though.' The young protagonist surmises, sensing herself being emerged to the pit of her consciousness. The darkness that used to surround the shadowy creature has somehow maneuvered its way into her mind.

Since she's pondering over IF she should follow her morals, or ignore them. Y/n, at a very young age, has been launched into her trials and tribulations. Testing her kindness, her fealty, her faith, and her patience. How long would she have to endure this ludicrous ride just to get admission into paradise?

"Is it all worth it?" She utters. Her eyes leisurely trailed over to the walnut wooden door on the right side of her. She's laid across on her velvety, soft cushioned mattress, her limbs spread into a massive X shape. Her back is against the well-organized and clean sheets of the king-sized bed.

Then her eyes shift back onto the pale, wan ceiling above her, the crème white curtain draping from each of four birch wooden poles and a long, pistachio green curtain cascades down behind the bedframe.

1 year ago...

The protagonist emerges in the spiritual realm surrounding her. Her eyes closed as her sense of hearing became more amplified by her utilizing only that sense. Her right hand's hovering over a certain, decorative deck of cards spread out on the wooden floor.

She produces a low audible noise coming from within her throat. Man-made noises weren't a repetition of the same alienated words over and over again. The sounds she's creating have a strong presence of an ancient language Aramaic which is the result of the girl voluntarily perceiving the other side.

"Don't

    trust.....

hi--"

Tiny molecules in her back spread rapidly on her. Her body has alarming signals within her telling her that something's up. Something is behind her... or someone. The eleven-year-old girl pivots her figure around towards the entrance to her room.

With her eyes, immediately catches a glimpse of midnight black and snow white hair mingled in his head as the person's strands are spotted on the right side of the door. Then her attention goes directly to the unanticipated person standing near the dark wooden door to simply shut it behind them.

"I see, you and Vincent are taking an....extensive break from each other." They announce on the cold distance growing deeper in the cracks. Y/n merely scoffs at that statement and rotates her figure back around to the decorative cards displayed on the ground.

"The understatement of the year." The young lady blurts out, her eyes fluttering back once again to the tranquility of the other plane, her hands are placed on both sides of her knees this time. Her soul withers over to the astral realm where the dead continues to communicate with her.

"Well, you know you can always come and talk to me about it." The feminine voice behind disrupts the girl's trance once more. She simply allows a small breath to slip out between her l/c colored lips.

The one person Y/n incessantly loves and cares about is concerned for the tumultuous of her and that malevolent demon: Vincent. The one person who could relate to why she's reacting this way to his 'family's secret'.

Her mother sighs before alternating her approach on her child, who simply gave up on attempting to connect to the spirits and practiced mainly flipping the cards over. Deciphering what the elucidation was to each flipped card.

The older woman places herself next to the girl on the ground while observing her cards. "Look, did something transpire with you and Vinny? You guys used to be inseparable and now—"

The protagonist defers her actions as she implies her growing suspicion. "Did you already know?" She speculates, that her attitude is frigid and alienated compared to her fervent, friendly girl. Her younger self gradually became a distant memory to her mother and this conscious, solemn teen is what the older lady had to answer to.

The room leisurely transforms into a deep awkwardness and tension welcomes itself into the space uninvited. The two emotions begin to create a change in the once cordial mother, who softly clears her throat and glimpses up to the side of the girl's countenance. "Yes, I am well aware of what they are." M/n admits to her suspicion.

Y/n takes a slow deep breath, permitting it to permeate through her body, filling herself with the pent-up anger she had accumulated for the past two years. "You're telling me, you knew what they are and who they are. Yet you still haven't informed The Elitists?" She inquires, allowing the venom in her body to seep out from that one question.

The protagonist automatically turns her body to her mother. "You are well aware that The Elitists specialize in this stuff, exercising demons in this world!" The girl shouts, getting up from the ground as she moves her figure in front of her mother. The lady follows the younger one's motion and she lifts from the floor also.

"Yes. I know tha—"

"Therefore why would you keep their secret? Why risk being repudiated with them? They're demons, mo—" The teenager once again gets interrupted by the said woman, who this time rests her index finger on her daughter's lips to advise her discreetly to lower her voice. 

"Yeah, I know that too. Listen to me, Bisque, Y/n. The Callaways are virtuous, just like you and me." Her mother softly implies, her hand touching the daughter's cheek as her voice is laced with sweetness and cordial.

Y/n pulls away from her mother's touch by stepping backward. "How can you say that, mom? It goes against our belief." She retorts.

"Yeah, I know that, but they saved my life, so I owe them." M/n confesses.

"You don't owe them anything! You can never! You can go to hell for this behavior, why risk it for mere demons?" The daughter advises her, attempting to make her mother see the light and move away from the abyss that's been swallowing her whole. "Because... they were the few people—demons who showed me kindness once I was teaching, assimilating Vinny to this land..." The mother smiles feeling herself reminisce about the prior memories.

"It doesn't matter!! Why on earth would you—"

The mother instinctively snaps at her daughter. Finally. "You're acting just like them. You are no better than them. Who's to say we get to choose who to be kind to? We are to be kind to thy neighbors. We do not judge, and we will not be judged. We do not condemn, and we will not be condemned. Forgive, and we will be forgiven. In the end, we will still be forgiven by him and we are better than them because we choose to love, not hate. Do not hate on the spirits that are trying to do better, Y/n." She concludes.

The mentioned girl simply hardens her face up. "But it's against the rules to be nice to them. It's wrong. We don't coddle the demons around us, we are supposed to destroy them. Who's to say, you won't be the first person they turn to and kill the first command they get from their god..." The daughter's eyes start to sting a bit, sensing her vision, turning into a tad bit of a blur to her. She's clenching her fists tightly as her demeanor begins to lift by the subtle melancholy in the air.

"I understand you're worrisome however we cannot be ascertained because, we, humans can turn on us at any given moment." The lady responds, extending her hand out to touch her daughter's cheek again. She positions herself back, exclaiming: "They are our foes. We have to tell The Elitists about them, mom." She pauses a bit, sighing out a rigid breath.

"This is our duty as Christians, we cast out the evil of this world. It's the right thing to do." The protagonist tells her before walking away. However, before the teenager can reach the exit her mother grabs her forearm.

"If you can't trust them. Then trust me." She begs.