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You are not you.
The voices are calm and echoe through their heads. Two have faded into the inky black, three remain, staring down at them like the sun stares at the moon.
And yet We still see you.
Grace holds her head in her hands, screaming against the force of the words. And Pete is crying, vision distorted as a layer of static between him and the reached-out arm of Steph reveals itself. He doesn't catch her when she falls to the ground.
I see the eyes beneath your skin, desperate to break through your veins and tissue.
Grace heaves, scratching and clawing at her own skin until she's bleeding and touching bone, and what lies underneath the pale flesh is neither red nor blessed.
I see the fangs beneath your weak teeth, wanting to grow to replace them and pierce themselves into the meat of the nearest being.
Steph is crying now, too. And her tears burn her skin as they run down her face, past her mouth, mixing with the blood that drips out of it, a golden liquid, divine, but never holy.
I see the horns beneath your skull, waiting to break through your bones and point towards the skies like they were made to do.
Pete retches, hands in his hair, tearing it out, strand after strand. He's on his knees, turned away from the others, as he throws up on the ground. When he opens his eyes and sees the blurry puddle of blood, he blacks out.
And three voices begin to cackle, one especially loud.
A thousand unblinking eyes, Grace is writhing on the floor of the gym.
Fangs so sharp and an insatiable hunger, Steph lies unconscious next to Pete.
Majestic horns broken through bones like a dandelion through pavement, Pete, though blacked out, still grips torn out strands of his hair.
You are not you. You are not you. You are not you. You are not you. You are not you. You are not you.
Yet, is added, now by three voices in a chorus, We still see you. And you will serve Us.
It's agonizing, lasting for days on end.
Grace stays home in bed. Her parents are concerned, but she tells them she's just feeling a little down. No mention of the new eyes, spreading across her body like measles. Every time they blink, they do it in sync, it's as though they were never there to begin with, flesh kneading itself over a wound, until they open up again and the horror starts anew.
Steph is at Pete's house. Her dad is gone and she has nowhere else to go, especially not with the fangs that grow so sharp and long they nearly reach her chin, and every time she attempts to move her mouth, they pierce her skin and draw more blood from her already sore body.
Pete isn't awake for his rebirth. The pain keeps making him pass out, and Steph has to clean his wounds regularly without accidentally skewering him on her new teeth she cries over. The horns take the longest to grow. Slowly, they pierce his skull. And when they finally break free, Steph thinks he might die and Pete thinks it might be for the best.
The voices never leave.
You will not fail Us, they chant, You will accept anything We give you, anything We command you.
And with Our Guidance and your devotion, you will be set free from the shackles of your reality.
Sometimes they get quieter and quieter until they've all tried to convince themselves it was nothing but a nightmare, only for the voices to reappear, whispering into their ears like they were right next to them—graspable. A game. Nothing more.
You are part of something bigger than yourselves.
And as they all lay on the floor, terrified, tortured teens that might as well be dead, sharing one irreversible fate, the words are burned into them. Marking them. Branding them. Until they believe it. And believe it they will.
Grace doesn't stop screaming for a long time, and it sounds like a tune angels would sing at the golden gates of heaven. She tries to write it down, but she sees too much to walk straight. She holds on to Steph and cries into the crook of her neck.
Steph's sense of self-restraint is tested and she passes, when she doesn't bury her fangs in Grace's neck and devour her, blood and bones. She cannot promise she will show the same kind of self-control being presented with other people's flesh.
"They lied," Grace whispers, head spinning, seeing everything, blood where tears should be.
Of course they lied.
Grace Chasity, you were born mute with nothing but the word of a dead god in your mouth. Did it taste of decay? As rotten as the corpse of their so-called god?
Grace Chasity, they told you tales of white-winged angels, molten gold dripping from their feathers and landing on the surface of the earth in the form of love. Do you understand now? That none of it was real?
Grace Chasity, the god you prayed to lies dead in a ditch and your sins won't be forgiven if you do not accept your fate and see Us as your true Lords. Be not afraid, for We will give you unimaginable powers to get revenge on all those who deceived you.
Grace Chasity, you will never claw at the gates of heaven, for you will be in a place far more alluring. Did you ever truly belong? Did you desire to belong? Desire no more. We gave you friends, made them sacred alongside you, an army to lead. Under Our command.
Grace Chasity, did you never question where fallen angels go?
Grace Chasity, are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready? Are you ready?
Grace knows that Stephanie and Peter are listening. She knows when she wipes her tears away and steps away from the other girl. She knows when they look at her, eyes wide open. And she knows when she slowly answers.
"I am ready."