The Salvation of Kora

by Yolanda Olson

  Copyright © 2021 Yolanda Olson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Jay Aheer

  Edited and Formatted by Ally Vance

  Blurb

  Life hasn’t been easy since the accident.

  It’s the only way I can describe things because I was there.

  I saw what happened.

  I’ve had so many nightmares about it.

  And now I find myself starting over in a new place where no one should have known about it.

  Instead, I’m branded an outcast by the people that heard whispers of what she did.

  Rumors instead of truths.

  The very things that have a way of breaking someone, and I’m so goddamn close to being broken.

  Especially now that she’s found me again.

  I think the Devil is here.

  Inside of her—squatting like an infestation.

  I can’t run anymore.

  I have to help her.

  No one else will.

  Part One

  Ashford Falls

  10 years ago

  In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti...

  I can hear you, but I don’t see you.

  The ones inside of me only let me wallow in the darkness, because they know that if they let me see light, I’ll try harder than I have been to escape.

  I suck in as deep a breath as I can, doing my best not to eat my tongue due to the lack of food over the past three days, and let my eyes roll back into my head.

  This thing inside of me grows angrier with each command, making it harder for me to hold on—to fight against them.

  Pater noster—

  How can I get you to stop making them angry?

  I feel like my skin is on fire.

  The drops of blessed water are burning my flesh and it erupts with boils and sores, and yet you still continue.

  Can’t you see that you’re killing me? Please stop; I’m begging you to stop.

  But you don’t hear me. You only see an enemy—an adversary…a foe.

  Qui es in caelis—

  The tears that threaten to spill over are barely held at bay.

  I’m being taunted by the things inside of me; held captive and made a slave. You brave, silly men before me don’t understand that you aren’t fighting one—you’re fighting many; and when one falls away and retreats back to where it came from, another takes its place.

  Sanctificetur nomen tuum—

  Please.

  You don’t know what you’re doing to me.

  You’re not helping me… you’re only making them stronger.

  But, as usual, you don’t hear me. You can only see what’s being presented to you. I’m being made to sit now. Even though I have no strength left inside of my tired body, my broken bones are being commanded to move.

  Somewhere in this cold, dim room, I can hear my mother crying. I want to reach out and hold her, but my body isn’t my own anymore. I want to tell her that it’s okay, but the sounds coming out of me only scare her. I wish I could see past the visage of evil that’s taken my sight away. Even though I’m in the darkness now, I do my best to keep my eyes closed because I don’t want to see them anymore.

  Dominus eleison—

  I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this, and I’m not entirely sure that I want to. They tell me no one will want such a disgusting, broken girl when they’ve had their fill of me, and I think they’re right. Do I let them drag me to hell? Do I give up the fight?

  Dominus eleison—

  Ugh; more blessed water is being used to wage this war, resulting in more blisters on my skin.

  Don’t you see what they’re doing to me? How can you think this is okay?

  Deus, misereátur—

  A low growl escapes me.

  Another one falls away, but here comes one more; I can feel it—and I think this being is stronger than the last.

  Deus, misereátur—

  My body goes rigid. The bones in my hands begin to crack and ripple as another assault of blessed water is thrown at me—from two bottles now instead of one, and I can feel the skin on my neck beginning to peel away.

  Mother?

  Mother, if you can hear me… leave. I don’t want you to see anymore, Mother.

  I’ll be okay.

  Christus enim misericordiae—

  The heart-wrenching sobs echoing throughout the room are enough to break my heart, but you don’t see her either, do you? You don’t care about her because she’s not the one you’re doing battle with—and for a moment, before this all began, I thought I was looking into the faces of heroes…but you’re cowards. You must be; what kind of man would ignore the cries of anguish from a mother for her child?

  Christus enim misericordiae—

  A tired laugh escapes me— us—and I wonder if this will be over soon. All of the words being spoken and shouted at me aren’t doing any good. Wouldn’t it be better to just let me lie down and die? Why do you fight so valiantly for something that isn’t yours, anyway?

  Audi nos Christus—

  I don’t think you understand yet, do you? There’s not just one and I don’t know how to tell you because you aren’t paying attention. Don’t say that name again, please. It only makes them angrier and… they’ll kill us all if you’re not careful.

  Christus liberavit: exaudi nos—

  I’m sorry.

  I didn’t mean to hit your friend. I know he’s trying to help but you drove another one of them away and they don’t like to fail. They hate it—

  Wait … I think … I think something is starting to come into focus.

  Is… is that you?

  Deus est Pater in caelis—

  You’re both so resolute.

  Or at least, you still are. And you will be there until the end, won’t you?

  But whose end will come first—yours or mine? I don’t have much time left, I can feel it and… I’m sorry.

  Dona Nobis Pacem—

  That giggle isn’t coming from me! Stop looking at me like that! Don’t judge me, don’t accuse me, you’re supposed to be here helping me! But how well can you do on your own, old man?

  That wasn’t me. Was it? It couldn’t have been.

  Wait—before you say anything else—

  Fili redemptor mundi—

  I won’t let you throw any more of that fucking water on me! You’re killing the girl you’re trying to save because you’re angering the monsters inside of her, but you don’t seem to care! You only want the glory of knowing that you were able to cast them out! Now, you’ll have to catch us… me—if you want to win!

  Dona Nobis Pacem—

  Flesh.

  Wet.

  Ruined.

  Battered.

  Bleeding from sores.

  Open wounds.

  Torn from the bone.

  It’s not what you would have expected it to feel like is it? This is what you’ve been doing to me and only now you seem to care? Why? Because I ripped your bastard protégé’s head off his fucking shoulders? Is that what it’s taken to make you understand what you’re doing to me?
>
  Don’t say another word.

  Don’t.

  Deus est Spiritus Sanctus—

  I never loved her, you know. Not once did she ever make me feel anything less than worthless and… you did this to her—not me. I wanted her to leave, to be safe for another day, but you continue on with your babbling, your prayers, your calling out to your God to save me. What if I don’t want to be saved?

  Hush now, Mother. We’ll wait in the corner of this room together, high up above the bed. It’s quite comfortable in this spot, don’t you think? I was tired of being restrained, and I’m sure you were tired of crying. What’s that? Speak up, Mother. Even though I’ve ripped your worthless tongue out of your mouth, it doesn’t mean I don’t deserve words.

  Wait.

  Quiet now, Mother.

  I feel another stirring inside of me.

  Dona Nobis Pacem—

  That laughter?

  That’s me this time.

  I can’t help it. The further away I slip, the harder you push forward, and I don’t understand why. What’s so special about me? You never knew us until three nights ago and yet here you are—fighting for a soul that isn’t yours to save, while those around you fall prey to the evils growing inside of me.

  Don’t worry.

  Soon there will only be two left.

  You and us.

  This is your last chance.

  Shut your fucking mouth and we just might let the girl go.

  Sancta Trinitas, Unus Deus—

  One?

  Do you think there’s only one, or that your one God can defeat us all?

  Allow me to ask you a question.

  How’s your faith these days?

  You look like you’re weakening with each passing second, and the girl is dying slowly because of your failures. Don’t worry—before this is over, you’ll both know a pain worse than anything you could have ever imagined. Death is nothing compared to the fate we have in store for both of you… unless of course, you stop.

  Dona Nobis Pacem—

  Resilient piece of shit. Do you think your words can harm us? You think your sacred prayers, lullabies, and hymns spit out from the side of your mouth are doing anything? You’ll burn in Hell you—

  Father? Father, it’s me, Kora. Don’t stop.

  You’re beating them.

  One by one they’re falling back into the abyss they came from.

  Don’t worry about me.

  They made me kill Mother.

  They made me kill your postulant.

  I’m so sorry, Father.

  Keep fighting; I’ll do my best to help from the inside.

  Ave Maria, ora pro nobis—

  Now you’re bringing her into this?

  You really are reaching, Priest.

  She doesn’t care about you. She doesn’t care about any of us, but go ahead. Say her name. Invoke her spirit and see how far you get.

  We’re starting to lose our patience with your babble.

  Would you like to see what will happen to the girl if you keep spewing your bullshit?

  Please, go on and we’ll show you.

  Ora pro nobis—

  Watch.

  We have something to show you now.

  Kora… sweet, innocent Kora.

  Don’t cry, bitch, do as you’re commanded.

  Does it feel good, Kora?

  The way your mother’s tongue slips inside of you?

  Aren’t you the one who said you didn’t love her? Show her what you think of her now. Spread your legs like the filthy little whore you are and expose your cunt to your precious mother. Show her how you truly feel about her.

  Ugh.

  Fucking priest!

  Throw that holy water at us again and we’ll rip your fucking head off!

  Sancta Maria,

  Sancta Dei Genetrix,

  Sancta Virgo virginum,

  Mater Christi,

  Mater Ecclesiae,

  Mater Divinae gratiae,

  Mater purissima,

  Mater castissima,

  Mater inviolata,

  Mater intemerata,

  Mater amabilis,

  Mater admirabilis,

  Mater boni Consilii,

  Mater Creatoris,

  Mater Salvatoris,

  Virgo prudentissima,

  Virgo veneranda,

  Virgo praedicanda,

  Virgo potens,

  Virgo clemens,

  Virgo fidelis,

  Speculum iustitiae,

  Sedes sapientiae,

  Causa nostrae laetitiae,

  Vas spirituale,

  Vas honorabile,

  Vas insigne devotionis,

  Rosa mystica,

  Turris Davidica,

  Turris eburnea,

  Domus aurea,

  Foederis arca,

  Ianua caeli,

  Stella matutina,

  Salus infirmorum,

  Refugium peccatorum,

  Consolatrix afflictorum,

  Auxilium Christianorum,

  Regina Angelorum,

  Regina Patriarcharum,

  Regina Prophetarum,

  Regina Apostolorum,

  Regina Martyrum,

  Regina Confessorum,

  Regina Virginum,

  Regina Sanctorum omnium,

  Regina sine labe originali concepta,

  Regina in caelum assumpta,

  Regina Sanctissimi Rosarii,

  Regina familiae,

  Regina pacis—

  Deliver us from evil, amen!?

  Is that what you wanted? Did it work? Look at us, Priest. You’re no closer to saving the bitch than you were when you started, and you’re growing weaker by the moment. Press us further—we dare you.

  Sanctus Michael—

  He doesn’t care.

  Gabriel sancti—

  He cares even less.

  Now it’s our turn to show you how to pray.

  On your knees, Kora.

  Again.

  Again.

  Again!

  Open your mouth, you filthy sow.

  Speak the words to fight back.

  Sanctus Satanas, Sanctus

  Dominus Diabolus Saboth

  Satanas - venire!

  Satanas - venire!

  Ave, Satanas,

  Ave Satanas

  Tui sunt caeli,

  Tua est terra,

  Ave Satanas!

  Oh, Priest. You look so afraid.

  Do you understand now?

  The bitch is ours and so are you.

  Now, one more little trick to show you before we reap your soul.

  On your feet, Kora.

  Stand.

  Open your mouth.

  Oh, isn’t this delightful?

  She’s choking herself on the tongue that only moments ago tasted her virginal cunt, and you have no one to blame for this but yourself, Priest.

  But, don’t worry.

  Once we’ve choked the bitch on her own filth, we’ll need a new body.

  Run, if you can.

  We’ll find you.

  All of your holy words were spoken in vain because you didn’t understand who your opponent was.

  But you’ll learn soon.

  We are Legion.

  And we are many.

  Part Two

  Kennebunk

  Present Day

  Chapter One

  I’ve always liked churches.

  The stained glass windows tell stories of a past that most believe, while the statues subtly watching us from every corner promise to keep safe any confessions whispered.

  The one I’m now finding myself in is built mostly of cobblestone. The walls remind me of the ocean nearby, and just outside, the gardens offer a small amount of comfort.

  I tuck my hair back behind my ears as I glance up at the altar.

  It’s pure white, with a large, hanging w
ooden cross separating it from the congregation.

  And even though there’s no messiah nailed upon it, I still feel like I’m being carefully studied.

  “Hey, Lily! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

  I smile as I turn toward the familiar, gritty voice of the forty-something year old priest of the church, who welcomed me with open arms.

  Father Yale Whittaker.

  He’s the only person in this town who isn’t afraid of me, even after hearing what my family went through. If anything, he’s treated me like an old friend that he hadn’t seen in years, ever since I first showed up for one of his Sunday services.

  It’s the whispers that I can’t stand.

  Because of what she did, I ended up getting shipped to live with my father in the quiet, seaside town of Kennebunk, Maine.

  Father Whittaker has never held me responsible for what my sister did, and while others may find it strange, I consider him one of my best friends.

  He comes over to the pew I’m sitting on, and genuflects before the altar before he takes the empty spot next to me.

  Resting an arm on the back of the seat, he runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, then brings one leg up and over the other, and smiles at me.

  When Father Whittaker smiles, it’s not just with his lips. It’s with his hazel-green eyes too. Small lines appear near the corners, and they always glow with genuine interest whenever he sets them on someone.

  “So, what’s on your mind?” he asks once he’s made himself comfortable.

  I shrug. “I just like being here, sometimes.”

  He chuckles as he glances around the building. “Any particular reason why?”

  I clear my throat as I fold my hands on my lap. “No one here looks at me and judges me.”