Prologue

The old pictures of Jesus and Mary were not anymore welcoming and kind, but instead horror-instilling and unsettling. Something was terribly wrong. I looked in the direction of the high altar the pope would deliver his sermons on, and I was suddenly frozen in my place. There was a wooden cross in between me and the altar, and someone was tied to it. Their palms were bloodily nailed to the wooden structure and their head was hung with darkness and dreariness.