And they only speak in whispers of a name Who: Bianca, various NPCs Where: St. Francis of Assisi - St. Joseph Mapleton Catholic Church When: January 1998 -- January 2001
When Bianca's alarm clock went off - chiming off a cheery little Bible school tune that made the seven-year-old roll her eyes and hit it a little harder than she had to in hopes that if she broke this one her mom would finally cave and buy her a normal one - she laid in bed longer. Today was the day that she was supposed to go and make her first confession. Somehow she had gotten through classes with the other children and passed everything and now she was expected to get in that little box with the priest and confess her sins. Her father and mother were delighted. Maybe more anxious though. Bianca had heard them whispering when they thought she was sleeping the night before. St. Francis was their third church since they had adopted her and they hoped, desperately, that she would get through this without putting any of the clergy off. Bianca was not fully sure why she made people nervous at church - it was not like she enjoyed being ill every time she was there. Not her fault that the Bible seemed boring and full of holes either. Even a kid could figure out that God was not exactly as loving as they all claimed. She had read the Old Testament. Loving people did not turn people into pillars of salt.
"Bianca!" Ashley Syme's voice came drifting up the stairs. "Come on sweetie, we have to leave soon if we want you to get your confession in before service." Sighing, Bianca fought her way out of her tangled sheets and got dressed in one of the navy blue dresses her grandma had gotten her. But when she appeared at the top of the stairs her mother gave her a look. Glaring at her, the girl stomped back to her room and pulled out the lacy pink dress that her mom loved. Made her want to gag but she could always fall and get it torn on their way home or something. "Don't you look lovely," her mother praised when Bianca came down. She just looked up at her with a blank face, fidgeting because the shiny new shoes she was wearing squished her toes together. Very not comfortable. Ashley's smile faltered a little when she reached out to brush her hair back and noted the absence of her daughter's rosary. Again. "Bianca, where's your rosary?"
The bottom of the harbor with all the others. If fish were Catholic they would be set for life. "I lost it." She hated that thing as much as the Bible she was supposed to lug around. More, actually, because she was expected to wear it and for whatever reason it always made her feel like she was sick. "Sorry, mom." Not even in the slightest bit true.
"You need to stop losing these, sweetheart," Ashley informed her as she turned to the kitchen hutch and rifled through until she came up with another one. They had far too many of those things and Bianca knew it was because of her. After she had lost the first dozen or so her parents had stocked up so that she never needed to be without one once they realized the last was gone. Bianca had contemplated lighting them all on fire once but she was sure that her parents anticipated that because she could not for the life of her find any matches. A whimper slipped out of her mouth when her mother fastened the wooden necklace around her neck and it earned her a light slap on the side of the head. "Now none of that today," Ashley's tone was firm, stern even. "You're going to confess and sit through church without having any of your little fits. Right?"
No. There was not a single time that Bianca could remember when she had made it through a religious ceremony without curling up into a ball, crying because everything hurt or even throwing up and needing to leave. It was not an attention thing like everyone thought. It was completely and totally beyond her control. "Right," she mumbled, eyes narrowed on the ground because glaring at her mother was not allowed. "I'll behave."
Half an hour later she was sitting in the sanctuary, wriggling in her seat and trying not to cry while her mother sat on one side and her father on the other. Bianca had already tried to run once and been forced to sit back down. She was getting strange looks from the altar boys, ones that she returned with narrow-eyed glares. They were just as bad as the church with their little outfits and their following the priest around like he was some sort of a big deal and how come they got to look at her like she was - "Bianca, it's your turn," Ashley said, nodding as someone exited one of the confessionals. Bianca just blinked until she was pushed up and led to the box. Dragged was not quite the right word because she did move her feet on her own, but it was pretty close because the closer they got the bigger a fight she put up.
"Please don't make me," she whispered to her father, clinging to his arm when he tried to guide her inside. "I don't want to go in there. I'll wear the rosary and say my prayers all of the time, I promise, just don't make me. Please, please daddy, don't. I'll be good!" Something about the idea of being in there and forced to say things to a priest was making her feel like she was going to hyperventilate. Tears filled her dark eyes as she looked up at Samuel and it would only be a moment before she was full-out sobbing.
Samuel looked pained as he peeled Bianca's fingers off of his arm. "You have to, sweetheart," he told her, kneeling down to be on eye-level. "You've gone through class and you know that you have to do this before you have your first communion." He smoothed down one of her flyaways. "Maybe everything will be easier for you after that. It's just a little confession, just tell him any sins you think you have and we'll be waiting for you right here when you get out. Okay?"
"No," Bianca shook her head, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she started to shake. Her head felt like it was going to split apart but that hardly mattered because her father was pushing her through the space and closing the door. She threw her small body against it only to find it was not budging. Her cries got worse and she only barely heard the priest trying to talk to her. He was asking the questions that she had been told would be asked but there was no way she was going to be able to answer them. "Daddy!" she screamed, banging her small fists on the door. "Let me out, let me out, let me oooouuuut!!!! I don't want to confess! I haven't sinned!" Then she heard a familiar prayer and her screams got worse when she felt droplets of water being flicker through the screen at her. They felt like little drops of fire on her skin and she fell down, trying to get the feeling off as her head spun. Finally the door opened and Bianca felt hands closing over her shoulders and dragging her out, a flurry of voices going right over her head as she clung to her father like he was a lifeline, loud sobs torn right out of her chest. "He flicked me with water, it hurts, daddy. He hurt me!"
"Holy water!" the priest declared, face ashen as he came out of his side and pointed at Bianca. "Holy water caused this child to have fits! She is possessed!"
Bianca felt her father tense but she did not care because it still hurt and it was getting worse the longer she was there. Because some woman was clutching to her rosary and praying hard, hand stretched out towards her and others were joining it. Bianca could almost feel their prayers and it was making her shiver. Like she was getting sick. Her stomach was rolling in protest. "She is not possessed," Samuel said evenly, though there was anger clear in his voice. "She's just a scared little girl who didn't want to do her confession. Why did you even use the holy water? You frightened her more!"
The priest shook his head. "She was screaming like she was being tortured and she declared that the water burned her. Look at how she's shaking the more that they pray, it's like the sound is painful to her." It was. Normally Bianca could handle people praying. Outside of the church. But inside of one it seemed to have a power, like they truly believed what they were saying and when they believed it it was absolutely unbearable. When one tried to reach out and touch her forehead, rosary in hand, Bianca shrieked and pulled back so hard that her father lost his hold on her and she went tumbling to the ground, a sickening crack echoing as she struck her head on the floor.
When she woke up in the hospital bed the first thing that she saw was her father. He was sitting in a chair, face in his palms while her mother stood at the window, fingering her rosary beads as she prayed, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Daddy," Bianca said, her mouth feeling like it was stuffed full of cotton. "What happened?"
Her mother did not turn from the window but her father looked up and Bianca was shocked at his expression. He looked terrible. "You're going to be fine; but we've been asked to leave St. Francis."
"Because of me?" Her parents looked miserable but she felt nothing but relief. This was the second church that they had been kicked out of so maybe, maybe they would not be able to find another. Maybe they could just forget about church and religion and she would never have to give that first confession or take her first communion... her spirits lifted just thinking about what it would be like to not dread one day every week.
Her father did not answer, but he did not need to. Bianca may have only been seven but she knew. "We'll find another church, don't worry, we'll get this fixed yet." And by this he meant Bianca, he did not have to voice that either for her to know. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, her spirits sinking. Church would continue.
--3 years later--
The last thing that Bianca wanted to do a few days before her eleventh birthday was go to church. Go to church for her first communion no less. But she had managed to get through her first confession finally, three years older than anyone thought she should have been, without screaming or crying or flinching away from the priest. She had done none of the Hail Mary's assigned to her and tossed her rosary into the nearest garbage on the way out of the church but she had gotten through it. Mostly because her mother was starting to develop a nervous tic whenever the topic came up and her father seemed to go a little grayer every time they had to switch churches. Once a year for the past two she had been forced to attempt her first confession and every time had ended badly. The one last year had been the worst and Bianca severely doubted that she could top kicking a priest in the groin when he tried to 'bless the demons out'. That had gotten her grounded for four solid months and her mother had sworn that if she did not get through this next one then she was going to military school because these fits were getting out of hand. No matter how many times Bianca tried to explain that she was not doing it on purpose her mother did not believe her.
So Bianca had taken aspirin she snuck out of her mother's purse prior to her confession in hopes that it would help. Either that or pure force of will and knowing what to expect had. But the communion itself... she had no idea how to combat that. All that she knew was that it was going to be even harder. There were words to be said and listened to and she was supposed to eat something that represented Christ himself. Bianca did not think that she could manage to swallow that so the entire way to church - it was nearly an hour long drive now to get to the nearest Catholic church that had not asked them to never come back - trying to figure out how to hide something in her mouth until she could spit it out again. At least the hour long drive had made it really easy to not eat anything. Well, so her parents thought. Bianca had curled up in the backseat with a pop-tart and munched on it when her parents were too busy talking in hushed tones to pay any attention to her. Oh sure, she knew all the rules but she saw absolutely no reason to follow that one. Not like she actually cared, she was just doing this for her parent's sake.
Walking into the church was still hard. And this time, instead of sitting with her parents, she was forced to go into the front pew with the others who were about to partake in their First Communion. They all seemed fidgety and excited, if nervous, and Bianca did not give any of them a second glance because they were all also younger than her. The proper age and she felt more out of place than normal. But it was easy to forget because her skin was already starting to crawl and her head was aching as the service began. She listened to none of it, busy trying to keep herself from curling up into a ball or rocking back and forth in the pew. Instead she bunched her fists into the skirt of her dress and focused on the floor, letting the drone of the priest's voice wash over her until she realized that everyone was standing up.
"Don't touch me," Bianca growled when the boy next to her nudged her. His eyes widened and he stepped back, bumping into another girl when Bianca stood, body trembling a little as she started for where the table was with the bread and wine waiting for them. The other kids were afraid of her and she liked it that way, planned on keeping it like that. Though she wondered how they knew to be afraid. Bet their parents tell them things. She knew that there were always rumors and whispers floating around about her and how she could not handle church. Once someone had called her a demon, another time she was hells-spawn... really, she was getting used to it. It was her parents with the problem.
The priest was smiling on the other side as each of them came up, opened their mouth and had the little wafer of bread placed inside. There were only three people in front of her and all too soon it was her turn. Bianca's shoes stuck to the ground, her jaw practically wired shut as the priest lifted his hand. She did not want that thing in her mouth, in her body, contaminating her entire system. It was hard for her to stay standing and she could hear, even over the sound of the organ, the sounds of the congregation as they started to whisper and mutter. They all already knew she was odd from the episodes that she had every Sunday but this? This was refusing the communion and no one did that.
"Open up, Bianca," the priest said. He was a kindly looking old man with short white hair and wrinkles and the smiling blue eyes that everyone loved. Bianca loved nothing about him because he practically radiated kindness and faith and holiness and all of those things that made her want to spit on him. As she glared up at him something changed in his demeanor and he looked at her like she was the enemy for one brief moment before his eyes sparkled again. I hate you, Bianca thought at him, not even looking away when she recognized her mother's cough. His hands moved for a moment, a bright spot of red flashing and vanishing and he was reaching out again. "Bianca, take the communion. You must."
For a moment she contemplated how badly things would end if she just bit him. But images flashed through her mind of her mother having a heart attack or sending her off to an orphanage because they may have adopted her but that did not mean they had to keep her. So she forced herself to open her mouth, head reeling as the priest's hand darted and suddenly there was the wafer on her tongue. Only there was an odd taste, not of bread, but an almost coppery taste of... Her jaw moved of its own will as she chewed and swallowed and everything - everything - seemed to catch fire. Bianca choked, hand going to her throat, clawing at it as the wafer slid down and took with it the fire that she swore was making her tongue bleed. Her rosary broke under her fingers, cross falling to the ground while the beads scattered. She started to cough violently, tears swimming in her eyes as she went down, stomach heaving.
"She's choking!" someone cried and Bianca felt the people coming towards her even as the priest stepped back and she could have sworn there was a sense of self-satisfaction radiating from him. But before anyone could get there or even touch her, Bianca's body refused the communion and she threw it up right there in front of the altar. And kept going because it felt like there was poison in her stomach, trying to spread out and her body was rebelling against it hard. She could not breathe or think, all that she could do was hold herself up as it went on and on and people were talking loudly around her, hands on her back trying to soothe her or hold her hair back out of the way but none of that mattered. All that mattered was getting it back out before it killed her.
At some point someone had grabbed a trashcan and held it in front of her while her father picked her up to carry her out of the sanctuary. Once they were outside in the bitter cold of a Michigan winter, Bianca sobbing as her body continued trying to get rid of every hint of what she had eaten, her father turned to face the priest who had followed. "I suppose you're going to tell us not to come back." His voice was dull, resigned. Like that of a broken man who knew when he was beat.
"Oh no," the priest replied, his voice cheerful. Bianca glared up at him from the snowbank she was hunched over and found that his blue eyes were locked on hers. "I actually insist that you continue coming. That girl has the devil in her, Mr. Syme, and I'd love the chance to get it out."
"I... hate you," Bianca gasped, another heave interrupting her. "D-damn you." Not language that she was supposed to know but it seemed appropriate. This was all his fault. He had done this to her, how come he got to stand there like some sort of saint while she was down in the snow?!
"Bianca!" her mother sounded horrified, hand going to cover her mouth. "She doesn't mean that, father, she's just sick."
"I know," he replied. "Just a child's anger... I'll look forward to seeing you again next Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. Syme. Bianca." His eyes lingered and she felt the hate in them, hate that was reflected in her own and if not for the fact that she was completely incapable of it she might have gone in for that bite after all.
And Bianca knew at that moment in time as she watched the doors close behind the priest that there had never been and might never be someone in her life who she hated as much as she did him. He had made it worse, somehow he had made it worse. Blood, she thought as her throat burned and she pressed her face into the cooling snow while her mother berated her for speaking so to such a nice man. But it was a fleeting thought and she had to let it go as her body spasmed again. She was never, ever doing that again.