It Was The Demons, Not Me

It Was Demons, Not Me Chapter four

I had finally decided to leave him.

Walking away from the person I once believed was sent by God was one of the hardest things I had ever done. My heart was broken, my faith was shaken, and I felt like I was leaving behind a part of myself.

I thought that if he saw me exhausted, weary, and completely faithless, he would finally understand that I couldn't continue.

But he didn't.

Instead, he refused to let me go.

I still remember that night in my room.

We were arguing when something inside him changed. His voice grew louder, his face changed, and suddenly he grabbed my wall mirror and smashed it.

The sound of glass hitting the floor froze me.

Piece after piece scattered across the room.

Then he turned toward my suitcases and destroyed those too.

I stood there in disbelief.

This wasn't the man I thought I knew.

Then, in the middle of everything, he dropped to his knees and screamed.

I stared at him, completely terrified.

And somewhere deep inside me, a voice whispered:

This is a demon.

For the first time, I stopped trying to explain his behavior.

I stopped telling myself that he was simply angry.

I stopped making excuses.

Something inside me became certain.

And with all the strength I had left, I said silently to myself:

That's where you cannot find me. I'm a child of light.

Those words became my strength.

I didn't know what would happen next, but I knew I had to get away.

Finally, when I was away from him and could breathe without feeling like someone was standing over my shoulder, another thought suddenly hit me.

My prevention pills.

I had forgotten to take them.

My heart began racing.

I sat down and started thinking about everything that had happened between us.

There had been so many arguments.

So many moments when his anger had crossed boundaries and I had felt powerless to stop what was happening.

I remembered how, during some of our worst arguments, he would become physically aggressive and force intimacy on me even when I didn't want it.

How could someone become so different in the middle of an argument?

How could the same person who kissed me and told me he loved me also make me feel frightened?

I pushed the memories away.

I didn't want to think about them anymore.

Not now.

I needed to think clearly.

I reached for my calendar.

My fingers trembled as I checked the dates.

I counted once.

Then again.

My period was late.

"No..."

I stared at the calendar.

Maybe I had calculated incorrectly.

I checked again.

My heart sank.

I had missed my date.

Pregnancy.

The word entered my mind, and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

"No, God. Please."

I wasn't ready.

Not now.

I was still studying.

I was trying to rebuild my spiritual life.

I had dreams.

Plans.

A future I was only beginning to understand.

I couldn't be pregnant.

Not this year.

Not after everything that had happened.

I grabbed my bag and hurried out to buy a pregnancy test.

Every step toward the shop felt heavier than the last.

What if it was positive?

What would I do?

Would I have to raise a child alone?

Would I have to tell him?

Would he come back into my life?

Would leaving him become even harder?

I stopped outside the shop and took a deep breath.

For a moment, I closed my eyes.

"God, please let me see the truth."

I walked inside.

I bought the test.

And as I held the small packet in my hand, I realized something that frightened me more than the possibility of being pregnant.

Whatever that test showed me, my life was about to change forever.

I just didn't know yet whether the change would bring me freedom...

or pull me back into the darkness I had fought so hard to escape.

I woke up one morning and slowly walked toward the mirror.

Something about my reflection looked different.

My skin seemed to glow. There was a softness on my face that I hadn't noticed before. I stood there for a moment, staring at myself, almost wondering who the woman in the mirror was.

Then my eyes moved down to my stomach.

For the first time, I placed my hand gently over it.

A smile slowly appeared on my face.

I was pregnant.

There was a little life growing inside me.

My heart filled with emotions I couldn't explain. Fear was still there, but somehow love was becoming stronger.

I imagined holding my baby in my arms.

I imagined those tiny fingers wrapping around mine.

I imagined coming home exhausted from studying and finding my little one waiting for me.

"Oh, yes," I whispered, smiling through tears. "I'm going to love you so much."

I made a promise to that little life.

I would protect my child.

I would become the best mother I could possibly be.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't thinking about the broken mirror, the broken suitcases, or the painful memories.

I was thinking about the future.

Then I picked up my phone.

There was only one person I needed to call.

My ex.

My hands trembled as I dialed his number.

When he answered, I struggled to find the words.

"I need you to come over."

There was silence on the other end.

"Is everything okay?"

"I need to tell you something."

He came.

When he arrived, we sat together on my broken bed—the same bed that had been damaged during one of our worst nights.

Looking at it brought back memories I wished I could forget.

Fear suddenly took over.

How would he react?

Would he become angry?

Would he accuse me?

Would this baby somehow make everything worse?

I took a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant."

For a few seconds, he didn't say anything.

I stared at him, waiting.

Then his face changed.

The tension disappeared.

A huge smile spread across his face.

"You're pregnant?"

I nodded.

He looked at me with an excitement I hadn't expected.

He smiled.

He laughed.

He looked almost overwhelmed with happiness.

And somehow, that reaction changed something inside me.

The broken girl I had become began to feel alive again.

I saw a different man standing in front of me.

The man I remembered from church.

The man with the beautiful smile.

The man who could lift his voice and sing praises to God louder than almost everyone around him.

He had been a choir leader, and when he sang, his whole face would change.

For a moment, I forgot everything that had happened between us.

I looked at his excitement and thought, Maybe this is the change I was praying for.

Maybe the baby had brought him back to himself.

Maybe God had given us another chance.

We started spending more time together.

Eventually, we began living together.

Everything seemed different.

He took care of me.

He wanted to know whether I had eaten.

He reminded me to rest.

He encouraged me to concentrate on my studies.

And because he was very close to his parents, I found myself speaking to them more often too.

I could call his mother.

We could talk.

For the first time, I felt like I was becoming part of a family.

We looked like a young couple preparing for a beautiful future.

We prayed together.

Sometimes we would sit quietly and pray for our baby.

Other times, we would laugh about the future.

We even started window-shopping for baby clothes.

That was when our little arguments became almost funny.

"I think it's a girl," I would say.

"No, it's definitely a boy," he would argue.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"And what if I'm right?"

"Then I'll buy everything pink."

We would laugh.

Those moments made me believe that perhaps everything really had changed.

The man who once seemed consumed by anger became incredibly gentle with me.

He became so soft that sometimes I couldn't believe it was the same person.

There were days when he wouldn't allow me to do anything.

"Just sit down and study," he would tell me.

"I can do it myself."

"No. You're carrying our baby."

Sometimes he would even help me bathe when I was tired and make sure I was comfortable afterward.

I began feeling protected.

Loved.

Important.

The pregnancy seemed to have changed the entire atmosphere between us.

It was unbelievable.

The arguments became fewer.

The anger seemed to disappear.

The man I had once been afraid of was suddenly treating me like something precious.

And I fell for it.

I fell for the smiles.

I fell for the prayers.

I fell for the baby clothes we looked at together.

I fell for the dreams we created.

Most of all, I fell for the hope that maybe this time, our story would be different.

I began imagining us years into the future.

A home.

Children running around.

Sunday mornings at church.

His voice leading the choir.

My family sitting beside me.

And our little one growing up surrounded by love.

I thought the pregnancy had saved us.

I thought God had given us a second chance.

I didn't know that sometimes, just when everything begins to look perfect...

the darkness is simply waiting for the right moment to return.