Chapter One

Madeline

The last time the all powerful demon and I spoke was in the old church, just days

after the doctors declared Gabe brain dead. I don't know what I was doing, but I sure as hell knew that it wasn't smart.

    I got in my car, and I drove for hours down that dreadful, endless path. I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't want to know. Somehow though, I ended up in the small town that I grew up in.

    I wasn't that much of a religious person, but I didn't care. I drove to the old church that looked like it was going to come crashing down any minute. When I arrived in the parking lot, I got out and went inside.

    The church looked and smelled almost exactly as I remembered it. The walls still had that boring beige wallpaper that was close to falling off, the aisles still had the red carpet, and the wood was the same, but it seemed to be a bit lighter. The ancient building still smelled like old books and cigarette smoke, but there was one smell that was foreign to me.

    I knew that there were many things that you could do within that small church, but drinking whiskey was not one of them. The closest you could ever get to consuming any alcoholic drink would be the small amount of wine and cracker they gave out during the Christmas and Easter seasons.

    I also noticed another different thing about the church. There was a silhouette of a broad shouldered man sitting in the first aisle closest to the pastor's podium. That used to be my seat when I was a little girl and my mother and father would force me and my sister into our church dresses and drag us here.

Who the hell is he, and why the hell is he here? I thought.

I had never seen him around before, but then again it had also been seven years since I had last been in town.

The memory of the night I ran away filled my mind, and I had to fight to keep it away.  The last thing I needed right now was the memory of my sister being beaten to a pulp by my mother and father. Just the mere thought brought tears to my eyes, and reminded me of the scars I had around my abdomen. I shuddered.

I noticed that I had been standing by the wall staring at the unknown man for a while, so I decided to walk to the first row of seats and sit down away from the man.

I sat and looked over to the man who seemed to be lost in his own world and who smelled strongly of whiskey. I started to feel anger bubbling up inside of me.

How can he be so happy in times like these?  I thought with a sneer. I then remembered the smell of whiskey he had and the hazy smile he was sporting. He was drunk. That's why he can smile while I weep.