That terrible gypsy had awakened something in me. I felt it growing like an ripe evil weed every day. By the time I turned eighteen, it was so strong. I used to blame my visions on Miss Edith, when I was younger, but my mummy didn't believe me. And daddy was always so angry. Why didn't he know how to use a whip like my Spike does? Last night I dreamed of me and my Spike in Rome. He had the chains. Grrr.
In my fourteenth year, I saw my daddy's death in a vision. It made me cry, but I wouldn't tell my parents what was wrong, I was sure that they would just be angry again. I whispered my secret into Miss Edith's ear. We have a lot of secrets together, Miss Edith and me. My little mummy cried for days when they found his body in the river. I slept with her at nights after that. My uncle came to take care of our happy little home after that, working in a mining camp with some of my cousins to pay the rent. I helped me mum at home with the housework. I tried to please her the best I could, but she was always disappointed in me. She loved me so much, and it hurt her that I was contributing to the Devil's work with my visions. I started going to church every day, hoping the Lord would purify me of my evil and I prayed with Mummy at night to save my soul from hell. I was a silly girl.
A few weeks after my eighteenth birthday, I was in the kitchen, washing the dinner dishes, when that horrible feeling came over me. I dropped one of mummy's best dishes and it shattered to the floor. Delicate as an eggshell, it was. I saw the mines collapsing in a terrifying vision, the men trapped inside, screaming for their lives. I cried for my uncle, begging him not to go to work the next day. My mummy was very upset at the scene I'd made. I think my uncle understood, though, because he managed not to be in the mines the next day, when they collapsed. When he came home that day, he looked at me with the most horrible eyes. I could almost hear him suspecting me of consort with the Devil. I couldn't stand it.
I ran straight to the church, to purge myself of that awful guilt. I entered and crossed myself at the altar. Looking up, I wondered what words the Father would say to me. Would I really be damned to hell? I decided to accept his word as the word of God, no matter how bad it was.
I entered the confession booth. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been two days since my last confession." I sat there, waiting for the Father's comforting voice. It never came. "Father?"
Finally, a voice thick with Irish brogue came through the screen. "That's not very long."
I puzzled at this for moment, it being a strange response. But much more pressing matters were on my mind. "Oh Father, I'm so afraid," I began.
"The Lord is very forgiving. Tell me your sins."
"I had…I've been seeing again, Father. Yesterday, the men were going to work in the mine. I had…" How could I explain it? "…a terrible fright. My stomach all tied up, and I saw this horrible…crash. My mummy said to keep my peace, it didn't mean nothing. But this morning…they had a cave-in. Two men died." I waited for his response.
"Go on."
"Me mum says…I'm cursed. My seeing things is an affront to the Lord, that only he's supposed to see anything before it happens. But I don't mean to, Father, I swear! I swear! I try to be pure in his sight. I don't want to be an evil thing."
"Oh, hush, child. The Lord has a plan for all creatures." I sighed at this, thinking he would comfort me. "Even a Devil child like you."
My heart jumped. "A devil?"
"Yes! You're a spawn of Satan. All the Hail Marys in the world aren't going to help. The Lord will use you and smite you down. He's like that."
His words were so matter-of-fact, I could hardly believe my ears. Yet he had confirmed what I had always secretly believed. My mind reeled in confusion and despair. "What can I do?" I asked.
"Fulfill his pain, child. Be evil. Just give in."
"No! I want to be good. I want to be pure." Yes, I had such good intentions back then, but Miss Edith and I were destined for much greater things.
"We all do, at first. The world doesn't work that way."
"Father…I beg you…please…please, help me."
"Very well," he said. "Ten Our Fathers and an Act of Contrition. Does that sound good?"
"Yes. Yes, Father. Thank you." He was offering me a way to fend off the Devil.
"The pleasure was mine. And my child…"
"Yes?" I asked.
"God is watching you."
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