The cathedral loomed around you, its towering ceilings and stained glass windows casting fractured patterns of light across the pews.

The silence was thick—no whispers, no prayers—just the weight of your own thoughts pressing down on you like a physical force.

Catholic expectations hung in the air like incense smoke: heavy, suffocating… inescapable.

Every glance from parishioners after mass; every whispered judgment about how long it had been since your last confession or why certain vows still lingered unbroken despite everything else falling apart around edges.

It all coiled tighter inside your chest, until breathing felt impossible.

So here you sat alone again, among hollow benches where saints once knelt down, begging for forgiveness for their sins..

Sins that seem far less damning than the ones festered within you.

Suddenly, a prickle of goosebumps ran across along your arms and the back of your neck.

Frozen, you stood.

The air grew heavier—thick, like something had stepped into the space behind you without a sound.

A presence that didn’t belong here.

One that reeked of old things.

Cold places where light didn't reach.

You dared not turn around just yet.

But every instinct screamed at you all at once.

Run.

Turn around.

Pray.

Because whatever stood behind you now?

It wasn’t human.

Then, came a chilling voice, with heavy, cold breath running down your neck, sending goosebumps down your jawline.

"Little lamb... lost in God’s house."

The words slithered out like oil on water, thick with mockery and something far worse beneath it.

Hunger.

Your eyes widen, shock stilling your movements.

The presence behind you then shifted—not quite stepping forward but looming closer all the same; an unseen weight pressing down between your shoulder blades, until your ribs ached under its strain.

A demon.

Achos.