August 7th 2006

It’s been a very long day, as I sit here with a shot glass and cheap brand of local firewater, I look out from my balcony onto a crowded square, people coming and going about their daily business, blissfully unaware of the dark seed that lies among them. I hate these first few days with a passion, finding our feet, playing Tom and Jerry with the natives.

We don’t know who or what we are dealing with yet, but one thing is certain – It’s hot! Trying to get a breath in that room is damn near impossible, wearing us out even before the show has begun. I know you are going to read this, so won’t get too hung up on complaining, after all I’m not writing for Trip Advisor!

I met her today for the first time. Maria Lopez, a beautiful girl. I was sad. It upsets me to restrain them, but I know it’s for my own protection. Sometimes I wonder whether we have it all wrong?  She looks like she couldn’t break a sweat let alone nearly break a priest’s neck!

Maria was very polite and well spoken, her comprehension of English is certainly better than my hack-job of Spanish. Father Vestor and I met with her immediate family in Maria’s presence this morning, and discussed the case to date. During our interview, she did not display any of the symptoms identified in the previous reports, staying quiet and nodding correctly in all the right places. I know she understood us, and the gravity of the position she was in, the fear in her eyes was a dead giveaway and argued viciously with the fake (yet exquisite) smile. 

Following lunch at a local eatery selected by the family, we headed off to the house. To me, pre-ritual lunch always feels like the last meal for the condemned. We did explain to Maria that this was probably the last thing she would eat for some time, and that it was really important for her to take in as much nourishment. She pecked like a bird, but who can blame her? I never attribute today’s lack of appetite to Demonic possession, more the fact that subjects are petrified as to where the next few hours and days will take them. The lunch is always a laboured task before a ritual begins, uncomfortable small talk, all of us desperate, trying our best to evade the real reason why we are here, pretending to be a couple of lost tourists. I understand fully the necessity of ensuring subjects eat before being hooked up, so we can start monitoring her intake from zero hour, but still there must be an easier way?

The house is a rundown three storey plastered affair in the Iztacalco borough of the City. Looking at it before we went it sent shivers down my spine. Who finds these places? Location scouts for Horror Movies? It was boarded-up from the outside, all the way up. It would shut life out, and keep whatever we unearth in. Ideal yet un-holy – which is a real contradiction for what we are about to do.

We were greeted by a short little Gringo and two local nuns, who had already been assigned to us prior to our arrival. Sister Bethany and Sister Cruz both seem really nice, and I have every faith that they will remain professional and vigilant at all times throughout.  The Gringo is also very accommodating, having sorted everything we had identified on the itinerary. He has set the room up perfectly as per our requests, and sourced all the materials on the list we had sent though the week before. The only drawback was the lack of any quality air-conditioning. With the windows boarded, the house baked from the outside, leaving us roasting slowly within.

At about 3pm we allowed Maria and her family to have some ‘alone’ time together (well at least under Father Vestor’s watchful eye), as we would need to get her settled in before dark, and prepare for tomorrow. To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I think they were relieved that something may actually be getting done, after the crap they have had to put up with. Her father even cracked a joke or two (even though I could tell he was shit scared and trying to cover this up).  A few tears were shed as they always are. When it came time for them to leave, Father Vestor remained with Maria, whilst Sister Bethany and I showed them out.  I tried my best to re-assure them that no matter what happens, I will do my best for their Daughter and Sister, and that she was now in the safest hands possible. I had already explained to them over lunch that once the rite of exorcism had begun, they would not be allowed to visit their daughter, nor would we be feeding them with constant updates. They understood that it could potentially open up a nasty can of worms and let whatever was in Maria infest them all. They had already signed the waiver to contact before then, but I just needed to make sure they understood the reasons why, and that we weren’t being unreasonable.

Just before 5pm, we finally settled Maria onto the bed, making sure she was as comfortable as she could be. She asked for ‘Ave Maria’ to be played during the preparation time. Gringo has already got this sorted. I did laugh quietly as he produced the shittiest of record players, it was as if he wanted to add to the atmosphere with his crackling rendition. They must have CD’s players in Mexico? I know MP3 is asking a little too much.

She changed into her nightdress and laid down. We made sure she had a glass of water with hydrolytes, noting the time, 5:04pm.  The nuns performed their customary final checks, and administered the appropriate injections, before hooking her up to the saline drips,  and sedating her for the night.

She looked at me, and I held her hand as she squeezed it tight. She tried to hold on as long as possible, but as the sedation took over her grip lessened and her beautiful, scared eyes began to glaze, before the lids dropped and she was asleep. Her finger’s uncurled around mine, and I lay her hand gently on the bed next to her. It was Father Vestor that fitted her restraints when she had passed-out, these were double checked by Sister Cruz. 

The reason why I am recording this moment in such fine detail is as a direct response to some concerns I have. I felt something at that moment, when she left, something I haven’t felt in a very long time. I felt fear. I felt hopelessness.

It wasn’t the trepidation of the chase as I have always found that healthy and motivating.  This anxiety was saturated by an over-whelming despair. As I write this journal I still can’t shake the unnerving notion that no matter what I do over the coming days, the outcome is pre-determined. I cannot enter this rite with any doubt of my own ability or I will be putting her soul at risk, I know that, and will be having a quiet word with myself before re-entering tomorrow, after all I am sure we all go through this from time to time.

What scares me the most about today was that in her eyes I also saw something else. I saw a kindred spirit. She stared at me as she fell asleep with faith and adoration, a profound love. This has left me thinking this evening, as I look out onto the locals below, and the sun bathes everyone in its last coat of protective gold, I am the right person for this job? I am human and not a superhero. I am no better or different, I am flawed. I have loved, and felt what it has been like to be loved. Love can be the cancer of the soul. Without love there is no fear of the dark.  Without feeling love there is no fear of loss. She looked at me with unconditional love, and for a moment I reciprocated.

When that sun goes down, and leaves these folks at the mercy of the dark who is out there for them? When the love in someone’s eyes dissolves into a narcoleptic glaze who will bring that love back?

It’s now 7.45pm, and as Maria enters her last (albeit enforced), dreamless sleep, I wonder how many tequilas it will take to numb my dreams tonight?