Hell

She stood in the church, silently watching the new parishioners slowly filling the hall. The air was filled with the smell of wax and the light aroma of incense. People lowered their heads, whispering prayers for themselves and their loved ones, hoping for forgiveness and mercy. The light from the tall stained glass windows painted the walls with soft, colorful reflections, creating the illusion of peace.

But in the midst of this calm, she suddenly felt something alien. A dark, heavy energy emanated from one of the newcomers, as if poisoning the air around her. A chill ran down her spine, but she remained unperturbed, continuing to stand in the center of the hall. In her hands was a staff in the shape of a cross, decorated with fine gold embroidery - a symbol of power and spiritual purity.

She decided to ignore it, letting the prayer flow as it would. But it was impossible to ignore the feeling. After the service, she quietly approached the man who had been standing in the shadow of the column the entire time, avoiding everyone's gaze. His eyes were empty, his gaze heavy, and his lips twisted into a weak grin.

She stopped in front of him, straightening her back, and calmly but firmly asked:

• How can you, God's creation, be so dirty?

Her voice was even, but there was a hidden edge to it, like a dagger blade covered in soft fabric. The man's gaze twitched, and for a moment there was something wild in his eyes, dark and dangerous. But she did not look away, trapping him in her cold calm.

She shouted after the priest on Valentine's Day: "You are Satan!" She asked God to kill this bad man for the evil he had done to the children.