A visitor

This was written for a reason. I just can't seem to find a right title for it. There is fear in my heart. I can only express it this way.
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The air was still. She lay motionless, afraid to move. She was alone in the room but she knew something was watching her.

All was quiet. The slow tick of the clock by her bed made her restless. It was as if her time was up.

A sharp rustle from the corner of the dark room startled her. She snapped to attention and a sinister shadow caught the corner of her eyes.

“Who’s there?”, she asked audaciously but the blunt tremble in her voice betrayed her. No one answered.

The silence was eerie.

She closed her eyes. A horrible stench wreaked the room. She could feel an acrid breath on her neck. She opened her eyes. It was staring at her.

Pure evil.

It was something beyond grave. The menacing powerful gaze almost made her lose her mind. She screamed but no one heard her. She wanted to run but she was pinned to the bed. The creature snarled. It was powerful, she knew.

A sudden push and she grabbed the holy amulet given by her priest under her bed. The creature crackled in glee but when she plunged the sharp edge of the amulet into it, the smile was replaced with a look of pure hatred. Blood spurted out but there was no pain. It snarled. From the rotting face, appeared long disgusting scars but it continued crackling as if it was enjoying it and suddenly without a warning, it slapped her right across her face, her cheeks torn to shreds. The pain imminent.

It tore open her clothes and probed hard into her, the lewd tongue enjoying every inch of her. There was no pleasure. She shrieked and screamed. She pleaded for mercy. It continued to tear her dignity apart. The fingers were inside of her. She felt it burn. Inside, her skin ripped. Blood flowed without mercy. A sharp thrust. Her humiliation knew no bounds. It snickered in satisfaction.

Abruptly, the fingers plunged deep into her skin and drew two long scars on her weak, disgraced body. She had no strength to scream. Her vision blurred.

In her hazy mind, she saw the white tombstone. In the abandoned grave, overgrown with poison ivy, a drop of scarlet blood turned into a crimson rose. The beauty shone despite the surrounding viciousness. The chant continued, unnatural. Then she saw the torn rag doll on the fresh soil of the unmarked grave. She understood.

She was paying for her sins.

The creature’s neck twisted. The head twirled and the neck snapped backwards. It convulsed. Vomit splashed her face. The rancid stench reminded her of her past. It blazed.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to die but death never came.

And in hell, the feast began…