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The priest stands in his robe, a white belt cinched tightly around his waist. He has a Bible in hand, and a cross in the other—he must have replaced his other one. He holds it toward Malik, spitting prayers and the Lord's talk at a rapid pace.
Malik is on a table of sorts. It's gray, stone, and looks heavy and solid as it sits in front of the pews. His wrists and ankles are tied to the legs of the table, stretched so tight it looks painful. His back arches, his neck straining as the holy words penetrate his entire being.
"Et non flectere. Non ego conteram. Tu bitumen, sordes terræ. Vigilate et inebriabo te trahet statim ab inferno ardes impium." Malik mumbles the words quietly, almost to himself.
"Banish, you demon, I banish you to hell!" the priest shouts, his voice booming off the walls.
Malik's body arches unnaturally, his arms twisting in a way that should break them into a million pieces. His elbows bend awkwardly, his wrists contort backward, tendons nearly pop through the skin of every limb.
My hand goes to my mouth as I gasp, horror and disgust at the sight in front of me.
"Leave my son! Leave my son, demon!" Samuel commands.
"What is your name?" the priest asks.
"I have no name." The voice is not Malik's. It's wicked and unearthly. It sounds like a monster who has been through gravel and a grinder. It's terrifying.
"I demand you to tell me your name!" Father Moran booms.
"Leave!" Samuel shouts, stepping closer to Malik. Too close.
Malik's hand twitches, and Samuel shoots into the sky on his back. He shouts, horror and terror making his screams crack in the air.
Malik clenches his fist.
Snap.
We all gasp in horror as Samuel's head connects with his ankles as he bends backward, his entire body snapping at the waist.
"Lord have mercy," Father Moran whispers, his prayers stopping as he falls to his knees.
Samuel collapses, his body broken beyond repair.
"Father, you must not stop now. Malik needs you." Sister Mary lays her hand on the weeping priest.
We all weep.
We're allbroken.
"Please, Father," Sister Mary cries out. "We need to finish this."
We all watch as Father Moran pushes himself to stand, a newfound determination in his eyes.
Malik laughs, the cackle evil and full of malice. "Spineless scum. He was nothing but a leach to the world. A manipulator." Another round of cackles sound, and it breaks goosebumps across my skin.
"It is only the Lord's will to decide when to give and take a life. Not yours. Now tell me.What is your name?" he orders, taking a glass vial from Sister Mary.
Malik's arms twist again, bending behind his back as he writhes in an attempt to get free.
Twisting the cap from the vial, he flicks water across Malik's face. "What is your name, demon?"
Malik screams, his voice and the voice of the demon clashing over one another. I can barely differentiate one from the other. They are both tortured. They are both immensely pained.
"My name… is…Asmodeus!" he seethes between clenched teeth.
With a deep breath, the priest hands the vial back to Sister Mary. He grabs his Bible and cross, pointing the crucifix at Malik as he starts praying.
"In the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. In the name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of the Virgin Mary of the Immaculate Conception, Mother of God, of Blessed Michael the Archangel, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints. And powerful in the holy authority of our ministry, we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil. God arises, His enemies are scattered, and those who hate Him flee before Him."
