The group have been struck down by sickness. I don’t put this down to Satanic intrusion, more a batch of ‘matured’ enchiladas that we ate last night before leaving the house. I can’t blame Gringo for this as we had him out running errands most of yesterday, including the quick and damning trip to the food cart posted a block from the pit.​

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Sister Bethany and Gringo are the only two survivors of this gastronomical apocalypse as she didn’t eat, and he, well he seems to be able to stomach anything. Needless to say I woke up around 4am and threw-up and out from both ends before returning for a restless few hours sweating between the sheets.​

All in all it’s been another shit day at the office.  The heat of the City seems to be reaching fever pitch, and now with us falling foul of Mr. E. Coli, the stagnant air in Maria’s room has caused me to force bile from my empty stomach on more than one occasion.​

I’ll quit moaning about this now, as I am too beat to whinge. I need to record the day’s events and get into bed to shake this thing and muster up the fight for tomorrow.​

We arrived at just after 9am this morning. Maria had remained quiet for most of the night following our departure. The occasional shout followed by a bout of cackling (at least that’s what Sister Cruz described it as), was still enough to ensure the demon disrupted the staffs sleep. One thing I have learnt is that demons are masters of methodical psychological pressure.  Everything they do or say has a malicious purpose; they wouldn’t waste the energy otherwise. Last night was a text book example of that.​

It must have been just before 9.30am (we hadn’t started the daily log at that point) that we heard the loud crash from her room. Having all rushed up stairs, leaving Gringo to mop-up the spilled coffee we had left in our wake, we discovered she had broken free of all four restraints and fallen onto the floor beside the bed.​

She remained still, her eyes closed, the leather cuffs intact around her wrists and ankles, with fresh blood pooling at all four points from the injuries sustained whilst tearing free. We couldn’t see her face fully as it was pressed against the floor, most of it covered by her damp, matted hair.​

Father V and I ordered the Sisters to stay over by the door and call for Gringo to bring up the first aid kit. We approached her with extreme trepidation. I could hear the rasping of whatever was inside her artificially inflating her lungs, like a unearthly life support machine. I don’t mean to write this like a horror novel, I really don’t, but setting the scene, replaying it like a movie in my mind helps me come to terms with what happened next.​

Father V rocked her toward him until she rolled over onto her back. Gringo arrived with antiseptic and fresh bandages, and handed them to the Sisters, who are medically trained for emergency first-aid in situations just like this.​

They went straight to work on her. Father V and I secured a leg and arm each by leaning down and applying pressure to both, essentially pinning her to the floor. It was then I could feel the seed pumping through her veins. She throbbed beneath me, as if whatever was within was growing, slowly taking over. I actually thought back to Donald Pleasance at the end of ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’, shuddered, and prepared myself for her to wake and howl at us.

She didn’t. What she did was far more unsettling and suprising.​

(n.b I have always been quite an insular person when it comes to my past relationships, as there have been a few issues along the way. As such, no-one in the room knows anything about that side of me. That is what has led me to conclude that this demon has my number. I have met him somewhere before or even worse I have remained oblivious as he watched me for years, waiting for the day when he can present himself. The following was meant for me, a twisted message from beyond, on target to madden me.​)

Squirming as the bandages were being applied, it took every damn ounce of our strength to hold her down. Her breathing became shallow and rapid as she let out some very sorrowful moans. These intensified as she began to thrust her abdomen off the floor upwards, shifting rapidly and uncomfortably. The pain would pass for a brief moment, her breathing calm and then she would contract again, each limb becoming taught with agony.​

It was Sister Bethany that told us she was in labour. How was that possible? There had been no mention of pregnancy on any of the medical reports.  I know there have been recorded incidents of women giving birth who did not know they were pregnant. Maria was only of a slight build anyway and she gave no indication that she was holding a package in her womb. This certainly wasn’t the Immaculate Conception.​

Fortunately, the Sisters are also certified mid-wives (another of their endless accolades). Having managed to lift her back onto the bed and re-secure her, Father V and I were made redundant, sent to the back of the room whilst the Nun’s prepared for the impending birth. We allowed Gringo in at this juncture to aid in the delivery.​

The labour lasted for most of the day. Father V and I took it in shifts to watch over the proceedings, running errands for the rest of the group in our down time, but never straying from the house.​

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon this evening, we were all called back into the room. At 7:19pm precisely Maria gave birth.​

I watched in horror as the unholy package tore through. I was mortified (and still am in shock) as Maria finally opened her black eyes, stared right into my soul and growled, “This is for you Mikey”, before winking at me and gesturing a kiss.​

How the fuck did it know?​

I threw up and ran out of the room, leaving the team to stem the pouring blood from her passage and stitch the ripped walls. It had beaten me today. I don’t know whether I can do this anymore. I have never been attacked so viciously, so personally. I don’t even know now whether God is enough for this Evil?​

One thing I am certain of though, is that whatever or whoever this abhorration is, I will never let it out. It will not take me or her with it.​

My skull is numb this evening as I dare not allow what I am really thinking seep through. For now, I will hide behind this cloak of resolution, forged in the hatred of my foe. I know hatred is a contradiction of my duty, but it is also the path to Maria’s redemption.​

I later was informed by Father V that the child was stillborn, and that Maria was still (barely) alive.

After today, I doubt this can go on much longer. She cannot survive us, and will be consumed by It. I’m starting to feel a little desperate as I promised her she would be okay. I told her family that I would bring her back safely. The church sanctioned the Exorcism, but somewhere along the line questions will have to be asked.​

Who is accountable for the oversight of her pregnancy? Is that human error or Celestial Intervention? I am also left even wondering whether today happened at all?