A Stain On My Wedding Dress (Saints & Haints, Chapter 39)

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In December 2022...

As the second attempt, by demons, to drive me crazy and thereby end my life, begins to melt down-- truths are revealed, and final shots are fired.

Chapter 39
A Stain On My Wedding Dress

 

"The worst thing they did to me, 

was when they made me tell you 

that I didn't love you,

that I didn't want you anymore,

and to take the ring off.

Tell them this...

tell them I said

that having to do that

put me in Hell,

and I gnashed my teeth

unimaginably,

because I knew that I

had put the stain

on the beautiful white light

of our love."

-A

Around that time, in the second week of December, I began hearing a new voice, telepathically, the way I hear my regular group of demons. That didn't mean anything to me, however, because demons can change the sound of their voices. The new voice said that he was A. My demons confirmed that he was telling the truth, but, of course, that didn't mean that much either. This new voice sounded more distant, more Southern, and somehow more realistic; it was less comedic and theatrical than some of the other voices, more like a living person talking on a real phone.

Sometime around December 9th or 10th, A showed me a mental picture of a death certificate with the words "heart disease" typed in manual typewriter print, in the "cause of death" box. With all the back and forth between "Right-A" and "Wrong-A," or, in other words, between his alternately loving and abusive behavior, I had started to question again, whether or not he was even my A. After I was shown the death certificate, my demons told me the name of a business where A had supposedly worked at the time of his death. This would have been after we had both moved away, and I was out of his life. I thought that he must have been trying to give me some fact-checkable pieces of evidence to prove his identity, since someone kept trying to make me doubt it. He appeared as the animation, and transferred the thought,

"There. That's my resume. I worked at that one place. Then hard times struck, and I lost all my money. I drank myself to death in Seattle."

As I was saying, I thought that he was trying to give me something fact-checkable to prove that he truly was the guy I'd known, both in the flesh and as a spirit; although really, there could never be any solid evidence. In a world of mind-readers, if a fact is checkable, then it is also obtainable, by any spirit on this planet. Still, these particular pieces of evidence would have been some that were more difficult to find, and I acknowledged that. I didn't check them, though, because I was convinced, at least all of the time that I wasn't being influenced to doubt it.

I thought it was a bit strange that he'd used the word "resume," because it had become one of the trigger words my demon attachments used in their daily harassment of me. They teased me about not being able to find a decent job, saying things like,

"With such a PowerPoint proficient resume..."

I didn't think that it was A's intention to poke fun at me, though. The animation looked sad. My demons translated,

"He's not very proud of his resume."

"I'm sorry," I said to him, "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you."

"We'll get another chance," he thought to me, "but we won't ever be that same boy and girl again. We've been damaged by this world; that's what happens. We lost what we had back then, and we can't get it back; but we can have something else, something that just might be even more wonderful and worth fighting for.

And, it's okay. I understand."

Portents of my imminent demise continued. The next day, my demons, claiming to be relaying messages from A, told me,

"The Chapel is booked for Valentine's Day."

I responded,

"I don't think that is a sanctioned message." They also reported that A had referred to me as,

"My wife, my prize, my only joy."

Later that same day, A admitted, finally, as the animation, that he was still a demon; not an undercover agent, even, a full-fledged demon, and one of my attachments. By that point, I was not very surprised by the announcement. He maintained, however, that he had his reasons for it; and he said that I should trust him. The thing is, I did trust him; and even the confirmation that he was still a demon didn't change that. I didn't necessarily trust him to tell me the truth; but I trusted, at least, that he didn't mean me any real harm. I trusted that he loved me. That revelation finally allowed him to drop the charade he'd been carrying on, of not being able to communicate with me telepathically, word-for-word. At least his latest shenanigans had taught me a lot about alternate forms of psychic communication.

My demons started referring to A as "Scott Jackson." I didn't think that it meant anything, because they like to give everyone nicknames. Over the next few days, A began using more and more of their catchphrases and trigger words. They told me that he'd actually been the author of many of them, because he had always been our manager, even during the 18 months of silence.

Later that day, while I was at work, A popped up as the animation, chatting telepathically with me and Freddie, who was standing beside me. A was sitting at a desk, in a command center, in the vision. Freddie inquired,

"So, you've finally decided to make the trip up North? Settle down, start a family?"

A removed his headphones, placing them on the desk. He propped his elbows on the desk, and then propped his chin on his clasped hands, and smiled.

"Yes," he replied, "she's the only woman I could ever imagine doing that with; the only woman out of thousands."

I understood the representation of him behind a desk to mean that he was at "demon headquarters" at the time. Since then, I've been shown people sitting behind desks and at computers numerous times, in various ways, by various demons. I don't know how literal a translation that is, but they're definitely acknowledging that there is a command center of some sort.

Later on, after work, A was harassing me once more. I got angry with him and compared him to Jorge, saying,

"You know, I'm familiar with this routine. It's narcissistic abuse, and I knew all about it before you ever came along. This is probably all just a joke; you came back to romance me again, just so you could flip the switch and become abusive, and now you'll probably drop out of existence again for a year or two. It's all you demons do; you just play games with people..."

Then I paused for a moment, reflecting on exactly how like a demon Jorge had been. I had changed my previous assessment of that situation... well, somewhat. In my first book, I wrote that my demons told me that Jorge had been possessed, but I didn't believe them.

"He was just an asshole," was the opinion I had at the time. Having learned so much more since then about demonic influence, and about the nature of Satan himself, however, I'd decided that I had only been half right. Jorge had to have been possessed. The abusive traits he exhibited are the exact same as those I've observed in just about every demon I've encountered, when they are at their worst; in other words, when they are under the influence of Satan himself, or of those closer to him.

But, at the same time, Jorge was "just an asshole," or else they would never have been able to control him like that.

They can't do it to me.

They can make us see, hear, and think things. They can make our muscles spasm, and things of that nature, but they can't make us do shit, if we don't agree to it.

The comparison to Jorge seemed to have had an exorcism-like effect on A. For a little while, he was himself again; his old self. He asked, calmly, in his normal, human voice,

"Do you really think that I didn't always have feelings for you?"

He told me then that he was actually my "demon overlord," meaning that he was in charge of what happened to me while I remained on this planet. He confessed that he had always been the demon in charge of my torment; explaining that it was better for me that way.

"I didn't want anyone else watching you on camera," he said, "or torturing you worse than I will, but I have to torture you a little bit, do you understand?"

He ensured me that he had, indeed, received an invitation to go to Heaven, but he had not taken advantage of it yet, because it was better for us if he managed this situation. He also said that he was afraid that communication from Heaven would be more limited, and he liked being able to communicate with me easily. My demons, well, the other ones in this group, confessed that they had known all along that A was our "manager," but they had been ordered to go along with whatever story he was trying to make me believe.

Well, I wasn't sure if I believed quite all of that, but parts of it made sense. For example, this news explained why many of my "demon attacks" and "exorcisms" had been so conveniently scheduled; as soon as I had safely parked the truck, for instance, or after I was safely home for the evening. I knew then that the exorcisms hadn't really been exorcisms, but rather, A had "ordered the troops, and then called them off;" or else, they'd never been anything but sound effects and acting. I suspected that the crickets I'd been hearing since June had been A's doing too; some type of celestial sound effect.

I also accepted, finally, this probably meant that A was actually Johnny. In response to that thought, A admitted to being one of the "Johnnys," but he explained that there had been some other Johnnys who were involved in my torture proceedings before he had taken over and made me "his captive, exclusively."

So, I thought that perhaps the shenanigans would end, now that the "truth" had been revealed, but... no. The next day, there was, again, a lot of commotion with my demons. They were agitated, and saying that A was here, and that someone was going to burn my house down. A, as one of the voices, confirmed this, nonchalantly, like,

"What? You'll get your animals that way."

Seeing that I was not impressed with that plan, however, he said,

"Okay, we'll change that," implying that he was capable of programming the deaths of my babies and me. He was acting like a god; and indicating, by transmitting concepts to me, that demons have that kind of power.

Later, he was dumpster diving again, and I got pissed off at him again. He was "asking" about certain memories, by showing them to me. I told him that those things were none of his damned business. He claimed, that he was not trying to bring up bad memories, and that he only wanted to know more about me. I said,

"That is not the truth; because you always pull up the bad stuff. Why don't you ever look at anything positive? Why don't you ever conduct a search for what would make me happy, for instance?"

I told him to go on to Heaven, because he was only being abusive to me. He replied,

"I will hold your hand as you cross the finish line."

I said,

"I have never needed any hand-holding!"

In response, I felt him thinking about holding my hand in bed, a mere few nights before.

To that, I said,

"I wanted you to hold my hand, when you were you. You were, the first two times you came into my life, but you're not now. You're some mix of you and Satan! He's either influencing you, or you are doing this on your own, I don't know which it is; but I think you're not yourself, and it's going to be this way as long as you're here."

I gave him a moment to reply, but he did not. So I continued,

"If you are truly convinced that I have only a short time left, then go on. Hug your family. You won't have long to wait, will you?"

He said,

"I don't want to watch what will happen to you."

He dallied then; I felt him listening, but he was not saying anything else. Finally, I said,

"Oh my God! What is this? Another all-day-long goodbye?! It's like you guys thought this was a good movie, and you wanted to watch it again!"

I went back to doing what I'd been doing, leaving him hanging.

I noticed later that both Youthful and Demonasty were gone. It was not unusual for Youthful to be away from time to time, but it was strange for Demonasty to be away or to be silent. There was a different demon here, too. It was the short guy with the big nose; the one whose image had been pasted over A's in my hacked up memories. I had never seen him before in person. He had a raspy, creepy voice, and he seemed ill-natured.

On the night of December 13th, A was himself again, and we drifted together. It was still a long distance connection... because of reasons he hadn't explained to me yet. Still, we made a date night out of our pillow-talk, which lasted until the early morning hours, as he "held" my hand.

After being sweet and romantic for a while, and fantasizing with me about our future together in Heaven, he started dumpster diving again. 

I said, angrily,

"Oh, stop it!"

He said,

"What is your problem with a man who loves you so much that he wants to know everything about you?"

I replied,

"It's nosy, it's none of your business, I can't do it to you, and I wouldn't want to anyway, even if I could. Those things are supposed to be shared, eventually, naturally, and mutually. What you're doing is exactly what Jorge did to me, as much as he could, anyway. You know, when he hacked into all my accounts? Because he was convinced that I was hiding something?"

A responded,

"I have been looking for things that are embarrassing or painful for you because I can cut them out, if you want me to, so no one else can make fun of you."

I said that I didn't really care one way or another about anyone making fun of me. He said that he'd also been trying to understand the things I fantasize about, in order to be a better husband.

I had a feeling that he might have been trying to watch through my entire life, while he still could, so he'd have a saved copy of it, in his mind, to take with him to Heaven (where, I'm assuming, he would not have that sort of invasive, unfair access to me).

I hoped it was only that, and not that he was trying to save a copy to view when I'm gone, because he was not planning to go with me. Everyone's entire life has been recorded, and is available for demons to view. That means that "the movie of your entire life" which some people think will be viewed at their personal judgment --in Heaven-- actually exists, but only in Sheol, and in our own memories, and there's not really going to be a judgment in Heaven, and no one up there is going to subject you to a screening of it.

He said he'd seen evidence in my files that there were demons possessing some of my family members during my childhood. Not really surprised by this, I commented,

"Oh, yeah. I don't doubt it."

I'd already surmised that much, simply by understanding the nature of Satan, and, as with Jorge, recognizing those characteristics in their actions. I didn't ask for the details.

Although A remained civil the entire night, he changed his story on a very important point. That, after he had already changed his story on several things, increased my growing suspicion that he might be considering backing out about going to Heaven. He was telling me, at that time, that he couldn't actually go to Heaven without me. He maintained that he did pray for assistance for me, as he had shown me in the first vision, and he did receive an invitation afterwards; but the invitation was contingent upon my request for him to come along with me, at the time of my death.

I said that I didn't believe it; because I didn't believe that one's salvation could be contingent upon someone else's actions. He insisted that it was that way, but that it might be possible for me to appeal to St. Michael to take him up before I die; and that might become necessary if I kept understanding forbidden information, and furthermore, telling everyone about it.

I asked,

"Why St. Michael? I mean, why would I not ask Jesus?"

He insisted,

"St. Michael. That's who you ask. I reached out to him because, well, he's said to have a connection down here." 

After a moment he added,

"They^ do understand that our feelings for each other are genuine. They know this is something that started above ground."

I fell asleep eventually, and the next morning,

I found that A was still connecting with me, but he must've gone drinking with Satan while I slept. He had been usurped; and was talking a bunch of nonsense about how he couldn't be admitted fully to the congregation, even if I did ask for him to accompany me to Heaven. He was saying that maybe we could just live together in "Heloise's Kitchen."

"It's really not that bad of a place," he said.

"No germs; it's a very sanitary environment."

I thought to myself,

"Oh shit, I've lost him again..."

A while later, and in a better mood, he announced,

"Those animals saved you from the worst torment, of having to be with me in Heloise's Kitchen. You can't live without them, so I concede to your terms and conditions. This arrangement will proceed whenever you are ready to spread your wings and fly."

After that, he was telling me again that I would have to specifically ask, when I die, for him to accompany me to Heaven. He said that it was the same for our attachments.

I was thinking that couldn't possibly be the truth. I still didn't think their salvation could be contingent upon mine. It did seem, however, as if everything that had happened in the past few months had been an elaborate attempt to get me to kill myself; and I reasoned that if they truly believed their salvation to be contingent upon mine, that might be why they were attempting to accelerate my demise. At the same time, however, I couldn't believe they thought that Jesus would be impressed with them, or happy to extend an invitation to them, if they'd tormented me into committing suicide. It didn't make sense, but I determined it to be an example of how confused they get sometimes, when they're under the influence; and to be proof that Satan was working to sabotage us all. Well, I hoped it was only that, and not that they had been lying the entire time about having intentions of going to Heaven, with or without me.

Later in the day, A and I had a huge argument simply because he made a snide remark about my resume. I honestly don't even remember what he said exactly, but I remember that I went off on him; whipping around in my chair, saying,

"Oh. My. God. You. You did start all that crap, with them, about picking on me about my resume! You did it, because you're jealous!"

It wasn't long after that, that our daily attack began. This attack consisted of a lot of noise and a heavy feeling of oppression, along with occasional nasty comments or threats thrown in by a voice that was supposed to be A's, coming from the sky. My demons were complaining. Freddie was saying,

"Biscuit, please! Can we not just apply for a new manager? 'Cause this right here..."

The voice, which was supposed to be A's, said, ominously,

"I took Daisy's eyeballs to Satan."

Then I saw a quick vision of A, that was more like a real picture than a drawing. His motions indicated that he was operating something with his hands; there was a connotation of loading a cannon, or firing some elaborate weapon. His facial expression was calm, however, and he looked at me and mouthed the words,

"I'm sorry for the way I am."