The Curse Of His Love

prologue

Grace sought refuge in the church, her heart heavy with fear and desperation. She had encountered an evil spirit just hours ago, and the memory of its menacing presence lingered like a dark shadow in her mind. As she huddled beneath the towering statue of Jesus, tears streamed down her cheeks, her body trembling with the weight of her terror.

The church was a sanctuary, a place where she hoped to find solace and protection from the malevolent entity that had haunted her. The dim light filtering through stained glass windows cast a soft glow over the sacred space, illuminating the marble floor and the solemn faces of the saints depicted in the artwork adorning the walls.

But even in the safety of the church, Grace could not shake the memory of those chilling red eyes, burning with malice and hatred. The image of the demon's faint silhouette, its lean hands and long nails, haunted her every thought. She could still feel the phantom touch of its claws, leaving invisible scars on her trembling skin.

Seeking comfort, Grace began to chant the holy words of the Bible, invoking the name of Jesus as a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume her. With each whispered prayer, she felt a sense of protection wash over her, as if the divine presence of the statue above her offered a shield against the malevolent forces that sought to harm her.

Tears flowed freely from her eyes, mingling with her prayers as she pleaded for divine intervention. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the weight of her anguish. Bringing her knees to her chest, she buried her head in her arms, seeking solace in the shelter of her own embrace.

Under the watchful gaze of the statue of Jesus, Grace wept like a child, her cries echoing through the hallowed halls of the church. In that moment of vulnerability, she surrendered herself to the mercy of a higher power, trusting that she would find safety and salvation in the arms of her Savior.

Grace sat huddled beneath the statue of Jesus, her body racked with sobs as tears streamed down her cheeks. The encounter with the malevolent spirit had left her trembling with fear, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of the church. But her moment of respite was shattered by the loud banging on the door, jolting her fragile frame with a surge of terror.

With each thunderous pound, Grace's heart raced with panic, her mind consumed by the dread of facing the entity once more. The voice that followed the relentless banging sent shivers down her spine, her husband's enraged shouts cutting through the silence of the church.

"Grace, fucking open the door!"

His words echoed in the sacred space, laced with anger and frustration. Grace's body quivered with fear as she clung to her refuge beneath the statue, her trembling hands clasped tightly around her knees.

"N-no," she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos outside.

"Grace, fucking open the door or I'm gonna leave you here!"

His threat hung heavy in the air, suffocating Grace with a sense of helplessness. She pressed herself closer to the cold marble floor, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she struggled to find the courage to face him.

But the fear was too overwhelming, paralyzing her with indecision. As her husband's angry voice grew more distant, Grace felt a wave of despair wash over her, tears blurring her vision as she realized he had abandoned her once again.

"Fucking die here."

His final words pierced her heart like a dagger, leaving her feeling utterly alone in the vast emptiness of the church. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of Grace's ragged sobs echoing off the stone walls.

Alone and abandoned, Grace sought solace in the presence of God, her tears mingling with the hallowed air of the church. With a heavy heart, she buried her head in her knees, the weight of her despair threatening to crush her fragile spirit.

As exhaustion overtook her, Grace's eyelids grew heavy, the world fading to darkness as she succumbed to the overwhelming sorrow that engulfed her. In the embrace of unconsciousness, she found a fleeting escape from the pain and turmoil that plagued her troubled soul.

The clock had long struck past midnight, and the grand doors of the magnificent church creaked open, breaking the silence that enveloped the sacred space. With an enigmatic aura surrounding him, a man stepped inside, his presence commanding the attention of the tranquil surroundings. Each step he took echoed through the vast chamber, resonating with a sense of purpose as he traversed the hallowed halls.

His dark orbs, filled with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the darkness, scanned the interior of the church with keen observation. His gaze swept over the ornate decorations, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows across the marble floor. But it was the figure lying beneath the statue of divine Jesus that captured his attention, drawing him like a moth to a flame.

There she lay, nestled beneath the protective gaze of the sculpted deity, her form illuminated by the soft glow of the dim lights. As he approached her, the sound of her uneven breathing reached his ears, a haunting melody that spoke of her inner turmoil. His steps slowed, each movement deliberate as he drew nearer to her prone figure.

Crunching down to her level, he studied her face with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The dried tracks of tears on her cheeks bore witness to the anguish she had endured, a silent testament to the depth of her suffering. Yet even in her unconscious state, there was a delicate beauty to her features that captivated him, a purity that seemed to shine through the darkness that surrounded her.

As he lifted her gently into his arms, a sense of familiarity washed over him, though he could not place the source of the connection that bound them together. It was as if some unseen force guided him to her side, compelling him to come to her aid whenever she was in distress.

But with each passing encounter, the questions that plagued his mind only grew more insistent. What was the nature of their connection? Why did her pain resonate so deeply within him, stirring emotions he had long thought dormant? And most importantly, what role did he play in her tumultuous journey? Why he always gets a visions of her whenever she is in danger? Why she always haunt him in his dreams? Why her cries filed with agony makes his restless whenever he see her in her dreams? Who is she to him?

As he carried her out of the church and into the night, the weight of her unconscious form in his arms served as a constant reminder of the mysteries that surrounded their intertwined destinies. With each step he took, he found himself grappling with the inexplicable bond that drew him to her side, a bond that defied logic and reason.

And as he looked down at her peaceful face, he couldn't help but wonder

" What connection do we have?"