Dark Exorcism Page #4

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Now, I'm asking you

to by staying here.

I'll be, I'll be right back.

Bethany?

Bethany?

Who are you?

Who are you?

Who are you?

Like he said, my

names are legion.

For we are many.

Who are you?

Professor Kern?

I said, who are you!

Tell me your name!

What is your name?

Lois!

You!

Professor Kern?

You need to go to the hospital and

have that properly looked at.

Do you hear me?

Professor Kern.

Lois.

Did you see her face?

Did you see it?

I'm worried you're in shock.

You need medical attention, and

we need the proper authorities

to come and deal with

what's going on here.

We're not dealing

with a haunting.

I know.

That's what I'm saying.

This is a demonic infestation.

This house, Bethany,

it's connected.

It's...

strong.

I, I know that deep

down you really believe

in these things.

And I know I don't have

your years of experience,

or your guilt.

But what is happening in this

house is not supernatural.

That doesn't make it any

less tragic, though.

There is a very sick

young woman downstairs.

She has already

suffered terribly,

and she will only

hurt someone else

or very well herself, unless she is

treated by trained professionals.

As a medical professional

you can see rationally

what needs to happen

in this situation.

You still don't believe, do you?

In ghosts and devils and

the ethereal world?

No.

No, I'm sorry, I don't.

I can't.

I agree with you that

she's in danger.

Mortal danger.

But there's nothing anyone

from the medical community

can do about it.

There's no help she

can be offered

for what oppressing her now.

You will have to

forgive my inability

to make unnecessary

leaps of faith,

when there is a clearly

more rational answer

sitting right in front of me.

I will not turn a

blind eye to the fact

that Bethany is a clear

danger to herself

and to others, just to give

credence to some half-baked notion

that this family's problems are

anything beyond explainable science.

It's gone quiet now down there.

That isn't my daughter

anymore, is it?

Of course it is, Mrs.

Mills, please understand.

I know my girl.

A mother always does.

Whatever's in that basement,

maybe it looks like

her, sounds like...

It's not her.

It's still your daughter, Joan.

But it's corrupting

whatever's left of her.

Soon it's going to be

taking over completely.

What?

Professor, please don't.

A Gahenna demon.

They were the most feared,

the first fallen,

they'd linger where dead

bodies were disposed,

where children were sacrificed

to Caananite deities.

They have no desire but to

spread fear and suffering

to all they encounter,

especially those they inhabit.

Then, then what?

Lois, please.

Possession.

The demon, unable to remain

without dominion here,

latches itself.

It infects, corrupts,

and rots the host out

from the inside until

there's nothing left.

This is so wrong.

Then, what, what is it doing?

Stop it, you are upsetting her!

What is it doing?

Someone tell me what it's

doing to my little girl!

It's killing her.

I'm sorry, Joan.

No, no, don't be

sorry, don't be sorry!

Help me!

You have to!

You have to!

Joan, please, Mrs. Mills,

I understand, I do.

My mother suffered from

severe mental illness.

She spent my childhood

hospitalized.

She couldn't tear

herself out of bed.

That was hell.

That was mine.

I watched it eat away her,

until she, she never got

the help that she needed.

And I,

promised myself.

I promised that I would have a better

understanding of what she went through.

I wouldn't watch one

more person slip away

without getting the

help that they needed.

Mrs. Mills, please, if

you love your daughter,

you will let me help her.

Today.

You can't stop it if

you don't know it.

Is that what it's going to take?

Is that what it's going to take

to make you both see that we are

dealing with mental illness?

Veronica, wait! Don't!

No, this ends right now.

Mrs. Mills, call an ambulance

for Professor Kern.

I am going downstairs to

talk to your daughter,

and prove that there is

nothing more to this.

And then, I implore you, please, don't

further feed your daughter's psychosis.

We need to break the cycle and

get her proper treatment.

And if neither of you will

do it, I will do it myself.

Please, if you insist

on going down there.

Humor me.

That's all I'm asking.

This ends when I

get back up here.

Bethany?

Bethany can't come out

to play right now.

Bethany, Bethany, it's

Veronica Carpenter.

We met the other day.

We know who you are.

Disbeliever.

We've been expecting you.

We have something for you.

A gift, from us to you.

A gift.

What is that?

Faith.

Faith?

True faith.

We know you don't believe in us.

You don't want any of

us to be your shaman.

You don't believe in the works of the

filthy old drunk whore upstairs, do you?

You smell the alcohol on her breath,

and the desperation in her voice.

Disgust, that a medical professional

could let a child die,

and believe in fairy tales.

Or is it something else

you're disbelieving?

Look.

Today is a day of miracles,

for we walk amongst you.

Who are you?

You keep saying we.

How many are you?

Rush rush rush, rabbit.

First we have a favor

we want to ask of you.

We want you to see

us, to know us,

write our gospels for us.

Will you be our messenger?

How can I do such a

thing if I don't know

with whom I'm speaking?

Am I to believe I'm

speaking with the devil?

Unh unh, try again.

Then, who am I speaking to?

Nothing.

Why are you here?

Because we wish to be free.

Free?

From what?

Gahenna.

From hell?

You're all so pathetic

and human, you know.

Hell, to use an abstract

concept of a mere word.

You hear it and you think

fire and brimstone,

torture, darkness.

It's all so much worse.

It's a continual flaying of

the psychic nerve endings.

A solitude and a darkness

so whole and complete.

Can you imagine

eternity in that?

No, you can't fathom how

long an eternity is.

There is no time or

matter in eternity.

Echoes in the abyss.

We are the unspoken

ones who dwell there.

Our only respite is to cloak

ourselves in this flesh.

So if you are what

you say you are,

and there is such a great evil,

then there must be an opposite.

That means there's a god.

Is there a god?

Shoos!

You didn't answer my question.

Is there a god?

If you speak of the

great thing again

we'll rip out your tongue

and feed it to you.

I only ask because you seem to

wish me to write about you.

In which case there

are some questions

that need to be answered,

wouldn't you agree?

Why do you question

what you don't know?

Do you wish to know a

pig that sits silently

while atrocities are

being committed here?

I'll change the subject, then.

What do you want with Bethany?

To make her suffer.

To make every breath

an indignant agony.

But why?

Because we can.

Because she let us in here.

No, no no, I didn't.

I didn't, I swear.

Shut up, you b*tch!

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