Discharge Day;
The boy stood in the bathroom, his gaze vacant as he fixated on the mirror. His eyes seemed anchored in place, as if they were peering beyond the glass instead of at the reflection right in front of him. His mind raced, shifting from one thought to another.
Dr Wazlow's strange death.
Dr McAdams' teary face.
The sudden reveal of their marriage.
Then, the acceptance. He was going to the monastery today.
The boy shook his head. Surely, it'll be a good time... won't it, he thought as he washed his face with water. He was already tired of almost everything. But there was no stopping now.
"Heh. Monastery, my ass."
Then Father Jacob.
Everything about him exuded a mix of friendliness and eeriness simultaneously. The manner in which he presented himself, the way he concealed his eyes behind his sunglasses—almost as if he were guarding a secret even God couldn't uncover—and his unsettling, crooked smile that strangely endeared him to many. Even he felt a peculiar pull towards him—not romantically—and found himself powerless to resist it.
In addition, the nightmares grew more pronounced, becoming louder, more restless, and gruesome in his mind. The dark circles under his eyes were the only indication of his inner distress. Thankfully, he could count on Dr. McAdams for support.
"Kid?," A knock echoed from the door, followed by Dr McAdams's voice.
The boy realized what that meant. Father Jacob was there, ready to take him away from the monastery. All of a sudden, his heart dropped as it seemed to sense this wasn't the best choice. He ought to be happy about leaving the hospital, but the more he thought about escaping, the more anxious he grew.
After all, he was going to get healed, right?
"Yeah... I'm coming," he said quietly.
He continued to gaze at the mirror, the reflection sending shivers down his spine. Nothing ever felt quite right about him. In his youth, he had been carefree, cheerful, and enjoyable, but now, everything felt like it was falling apart. He was gradually losing control, and he was aware of it.
"Why can't I be free?"
His expression spoke volumes about the struggles of depression, countless sleepless nights, and the relentless stress from laboring under Mr Dinghy—that terrible person—and the persistent nightmares invading his thoughts. His heart longed for a means to break free from his burdens, and finally, after enduring years of hardship, he was discovering an escape.
Then, something darted into his view before fading away just as fast. A demon, grinning with sharp teeth and blood trickling from the spaces between, its white eyes locking onto his soul. The boy recoiled, colliding with the wall. That was certainly a new encounter, he pondered as he worked to soothe his frantic heart.
As if that was already enough to spoil his day.
Dr McAdams opened the door and found the boy on the floor, gasping for air as though he had just completed an exhausting marathon.
"Tsk," she muttered as she looked at the boy with mild concern. "You okay there, kid?"
The boy nodded shakily. "Yeah, yeah, I am."
"We've been waiting for ten minutes, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. I'll be there soon."
"You'd better," she said and left.
Minutes later:
"You look like death warmed you over, kid," Father Jacob said as he noticed the fear in the boy's eyes the moment he stepped out.
"What happened?"
"Oh, no, nothing happened," the boy said, shaking his head. Clearly, Father Jacob didn't buy it.
"You sure, kid?" he asked, his eyes narrowing under his sunglasses. "Your hands are trembling."
"Probably he's afraid of leaving London for the countryside," Dr McAdams chimed in.
"Ah," Father Jacob gave the boy an understanding look, "I get it. Newcomers often feel nervous on their first visit to the monastery. Most... never signed up for it."
He sat on the bed, looking like he was already suffering a migraine. Looking at Father Jacob, the boy spoke: "Looks like I'll have a hard time, then."
"I won't sugarcoat it, yes," Father Jacob replied.
He let out a sigh of exasperation.
"Just great," he muttered sarcastically.
"But look at the bright side, with time, you'll get used to the place, believe me."
"You say that like it's an easy thing."
"I never said it was."
"..."
The boy's thoughts began to spiral once more. He dreaded the thought of him heading to the monastery, one after another. However, regarding his episodes, he felt he had no option.
"It's okay, kid, you'll be fine," Dr McAdams reassured him, "Living in a monastery isn't that bad. Who knows, you might fit in faster than you know it."
He looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.
"Yeah, like I can fit in a fucking circus," he muttered sarcastically, getting up. "Let's just get this over with."
They watched as he grabbed his sack with only ten clothes inside, their expressions reflecting worry, one for the boy's safety and the other for his well-being. He turned back to them, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.
"What's with those looks?"
They suddenly looked away, clearing their throats and looking at the walls as if they were their new interests.
"Oh, nothing," Father Jacob said.
"Nothing at all," Dr McAdams added.
He clearly didn't buy it, but he said nothing. But as he was about to move out, a thought popped into his head.
"Hey, what about Mr Dinghy?"
Father Jacob looked at the boy, tilting his head. "Oh. Him. He's okay with you going. He seemed... sceptical at first, but he gave in."
The boy's gaze sharpened. Mr. Dinghy had never behaved that way. In fact, he never gave a thought to what he did. There was even a time he abandoned him for some strippers while he faced the police. Oh, those ten days behind bars...
"Huh."
He suddenly spoke, voice laced with suspicion. Father Jacob looked at him, sensing his growing unease.
"Why?"
"Oh, nothing," the boy said quietly.
He turned to face the door, then stopped as he remembered what he wanted to say.
"And... sorry about Wazlow, Dr McAdams," he said quietly.
"My deepest condolences," Father Jacob added, "May he rest in perfect peace, and may his soul find freedom in the House of the Lord."
Dr McAdams nodded. "Amen," she muttered.
"Amen," the boy muttered as well.
Father Jacob looked at the boy in silent shock. "I thought you didn't know anything about Christianity."
"I don't," he reminded him, "I was just following you guys."
"Huh. I figured. Shall we get moving?"
"Yeah, let's go."
They both waved goodbye to Dr McAdams and left the room, leaving her in silence. She knew that after this, life was going to be hard for her, especially now that she was officially a single mother.
"Now... what am I gonna tell Clara?"
After—
Father Jacob had arranged for a carriage that awaited them outside the hospital. It featured an elaborate design and was beautifully painted in gold and red. The boy was captivated by the craftsmanship, and the inside was just as remarkable.
"Like it?", Father Jacob asked, "I told them to make this custom for me. Once I call, they're already there."
The boy looked at him like he could hug him. He could get used to this.
"Yeah, I like it," he said.
"Good to know. Now, let's not keep the monastery waiting."
They climbed into the carriage without a word and began their trip to the countryside. The journey was peaceful, almost too peaceful, as Father Jacob read passages from the Bible while the boy gazed out the window, his thoughts drifting away rather than taking in the scenery. Suddenly, his eyelids began to flutter, opening and closing repeatedly—it felt ordinary to him, but to Father Jacob, who observed this closely, it seemed alarming, as if the boy were having a seizure.
"Kid... are you alright?", he asked, shaking him.
He didn't respond.
"Hey, you're scaring me," he added, the shaking growing faster.
The boy's silence only intensified the chaos. Suddenly, everything around him flickered like a malfunctioning screen. His eyes turned a bright white as the flickering intensified. It grew increasingly chaotic and quickened, then abruptly halted as if someone had shouted 'Cut!' The world seemed to collapse into darkness, leaving him suspended in the emptiness. As he began to surrender to it, a voice broke through the silence from the shadows.
"Oh? The time isn't right, I see..."
Then—
"Kid!", Father Jacob had managed to jolt the boy up from whatever episode he was experiencing.
"What—what?! Where am I?!," he shouted.
"Hey, hold your horses! It's me... calm down...," he said as the boy slowly regained his senses.
"You had me worried back there. You were out cold."
The boy, his eyes gradually ebbing the blurs away, looked at Father Jacob with a sheepish smile.
"Heh. Is that so?"
He nodded, then looked at him with a puzzled look. "You tend to go through these episodes, huh? Uncontrollable?"
The boy nodded, silently glad he had that perspective.
"How frequent are they?"
"No clue. I can stand in the middle of the street, and then it'll happen. Next thing I know, I can find myself at the edge of a bridge when it's over."
"And you didn't go to a hospital?", Father Jacob asked, his tone betraying his concern.
"Can a hospital cure episodes?", the boy asked with a sad chuckle.
He looked at him for a second before looking outside, muttering, "Fair point."
Silence filled the carriage as they rode through the sandy road leading to the Yorkshire Dales, where the monastery was waiting for them.
"I hope you're ready," he said quietly. "Being in a monastery isn't a walk in the park. We have rules."
He looked up at him. "Rules? What rules?", the boy asked.
"I'm glad you asked. First, we have a strict curfew. No one leaves their dormitories after 8:00 pm. We have a bell to signal you when it's time."
A curfew? That's unfortunate, the boy reflected. He usually enjoyed his freedom, exploring wherever he wanted. Now, however, it seemed like he was being locked up again.
"What for?"
Father had a dark face, shaking his head silently as he looked down.
"Can't say. Things... happen in the monastery at night."
"Things?"
He shook his head. "You know what, let's not talk about that right now, yeah?"
His eyes widened slightly as he tried changing the subject. Clearly, whatever he saw took a toll on him, so he nodded and said,
"Yeah, sure."
Father Jacob let out a sigh of relief, internally glad the boy gave him the green light to change the tone. He then continued, and he knew the boy wouldn't like this second rule.
"Okay, second rule... we have a strictly prohibited rule in having a relationship."
The boy stiffened, much to Father Jacob's growing amusement.
"What!? Why?!"
"It's a monastery, not a love hotel," he said sagely, "It's not encouraged. The one you'll love from now on is God and God only."
His jaw dropped slightly. "You're serious?"
"Yes. In being a priest, you have no choice but to be celibate."
It was then the boy's turn to freeze in shock.
"Celibate?! As in—," then spoke quietly, "You mean, no sex?"
The nod from Father Jacob confirmed his worries. He was so close to letting out a loud "FUCK!" that could scare all the birds away, but he kept to himself and went his way.
"Great. Just great," he muttered under his breath.
Father Jacob smirked. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. So much to the point that you might forget about it."
"I'll forget?!"
"Not entirely," Father Jacob shrugged.
"You're not making any sense—"
"Third rule, then!," he boomed.
"Don't tell me..."
He then looked at the boy with a serious face, weighing his words carefully as he spoke.
"No one, and I mean no one, goes to the far right corner of the monastery."
"Why, though?," the boy tilted his head in confusion.
"Don't even speak of that place," he warned again, making the boy shut his mouth.
"That place is restricted. Anyone found trespassing will be expelled indefinitely."
That certainly silenced the boy. He nodded while gazing out the window, his eyes catching sight of an expansive area as the carriage turned towards it. In the center of this large space was a building with a cross on top, reminiscent of the rosary that Father Jacob wore around his neck. Beside it stood a sizable building, which the boy guessed was the dormitories. Hedges and trees encircled the peaceful setting, injecting a bit of color into the otherwise dull surroundings.
The carriage pulled up in front of the monastery. Kids ranging from 10 to 18 were scattered around, some in conversation, others playing tag, while a few took part in intense activities out of sight. The boy observed as Father Jacob stepped out, his demeanor showcasing his professionalism.
"Welcome to the St. Louis Marie de Montfort Monastery, kid," he welcomed him as he opened the door. The boy stepped out slowly, basking in the lively but bleak environment. Indeed, this was a big change from the slums he grew up in. He couldn't believe his eyes.
"This is... wow...," he muttered in awe.
"Like it? It took a long time for me to renovate it. All broken debris when I first bought it," he said with a hint of pride in his voice.
He kept staring at the institution's designs, his eyes shining with an odd kind of delusion. It was obvious he didn't anticipate this place to be so vibrant. Throughout his life, he had been told that monasteries concealed demons and eerie figures hiding in the shadows. This was one of the reasons he completely stopped visiting.
But now... now he could consider this.
They ventured deeper into the lively scene. However, as soon as Father Jacob took a single step inside, all sounds were silenced. Whispers arose as a few students shrank back in fear, while others regarded him with admiration. Some even cast inquisitive glances at the boy, pondering where Father Jacob had found this new stray.
"You're drawing interest quicker than I expected, kid. And you haven't even kicked things off yet!"
"Huh...," the boy whispered as he quickened his pace to catch up with him. "Now... where to—"
He abruptly halted his slow walk, sensing the air darkening around him. His hair bristled as the haunting chants of Dr. Wazlow returned, his heart racing. His hands shook as he focused on the church, and there, perched like an assassin at the top, was the demon that had startled him in the bathroom, but now... he could see it clearly.
With a tall and lanky figure draped in black scales, and wings that spread like a fallen angel, it had white eyes that seemed to delve into the boy's very soul, complemented by horns that looked like bike handles. To put it briefly, it was a menacing presence, and it focused its attention on the boy as if he were the sole witness.
At that instant, as if time had paused, it rose tall and rendered the boy a sharp, icy salute, like a soldier back from a war beyond his words. Its voice reverberated, cold and hollow.
You're walking the right path. The time will come. The Brave Boy shall return...
And Hell shall rise again.
"Kid," Father Jacob tapped his shoulder, saving him from the trance. God, he had a knack for doing that.
"Wha—what? What happened?"
"You zoned out again," Father Jacob said bluntly.
"A demon," the boy rambled about, "... a large demon. Big. Tall. Scales all over... had large wings..."
"Huh? What demon?"
Right there, on top of the building—"
All that was present was air, deriding him as though he had committed the ultimate blunder.
"What the—?," the boy looked at the cross in sheer disbelief, "I swear there was a demon on top of the cross... and... it... it..."
"You sure you're hallucinating, kid?," Father Jacob asked, eyebrow raised.
"Huh? Hallucinating?! There was an actual demon there!"
"Yup, you're hallucinating," he muttered under his breath, then continued, "You know what, let's put that behind us. Probably the journey might've messed with your brain, or something. Let's go inside and register you. You'll have the time of your life in here."
He turned and walked away, leaving the confused boy with his racing thoughts. There was definitely a demon on the cross, or was it simply a figment of his imagination? In any case, he noticed Father Jacob calling after him and hurried to catch up.
"What the fuck did i just get myself into?"