Under My Skin by James Dawson

Bernadette lit the nearest candle.
    Sally had no idea where to begin. ‘I . . . I . . . this is going to sound nuts, but do you believe in
demons
?’
    Sally whispered the final word, but the question didn’t throw the nun in the slightest. ‘With all my heart.’ Sister Bernadette looked her dead in the eye.
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Of course. They come in all different shapes and sizes and we all have them. Once they take hold, they sink their claws in ever so deep. Like wee limpets, they are. Jealousy, anger, hate, fear, lust . . . and they make us do such shameful things.’ Sally looked into the pools of her eyes and saw that the sister, perhaps surprisingly, was no stranger to these demons, but they weren’t what Sally was talking about.
    â€˜No. I mean
real
demons . . . like Satan.’
    â€˜So do I, child. He lives in the hearts of men.’ A brief smile. ‘And women. There’s darkness in all of us, Sally. Just some people give it a name.’
    Yet Sally couldn’t bring herself to pull up her T-shirt and scream, ‘
I have a tattoo demon on my back!’
    Sister Bernadette continued. ‘Now don’t go around telling people I told you this, but there are no black and whites in this life, Sally. Only greys. Of course there are those who do harm – to themselves, which is sad, and to others, which is wickedness – but I don’t think there are fundamentally good and bad people. Just people, tussling with their demons – some succeeding more than others. The ones you really want to watch out for,’ she said with foreboding, ‘are the ones who claim to be perfect.’
    Sally didn’t need a sermon. ‘But how do you get rid of them? The demons?’
    Sister Bernadette said nothing for a moment, her hand hopping from candle to candle the way a bee travels between flowers. ‘I don’t rightly think you ever lose them, you just learn to keep them somewhere where they can’t cause harm. We build cages inside,’ Bernadette said wearily. Sally wondered what her demons looked like and how long she’d been holding them at bay.
    â€˜How do you do that?’
    â€˜You pray for strength, child. You pray for the strength every day.’ Her pale hand trembled over the candles. She closed her eyes and exhaled. ‘I was so lost once upon a time, Sally. I hurt people, people dear to me, so now I help others, I do what little I can. I found solace in our saviour, but everyone has their own path to find.’
    Sally feared she could pray all she wanted but it wasn’t going to remove the tattoo from her back. ‘But what if that isn’t enough? Don’t you do, like . . . exorcisms?’
    Sister Bernadette smiled to herself and blew out her match. ‘You’ve been watching too much television.’ Sally couldn’t argue with that. ‘There are rare cases where a priest might carry out an exorcism, but the priests have to be specially trained and then act only in exceptional circumstances. Myself, I’m not so convinced.’
    â€˜You don’t think people get possessed or you don’t think exorcisms work?’
    â€˜I don’t think the devil makes it so easy. If only it were so simple that a priest might say the right words and all the evil in the world would go away.’ Bernadette’s smile fell. ‘Sally, you don’t think you might have a
friend
in need of an exorcism, do you?’
    She so wanted to say yes, but her mouth wouldn’t form the word. She shook her head. ‘I should go. I’m sorry I wasted your time.’
    Although the nun looked disappointed, her face remained so kind. ‘Not at all. I’m always here, Sally.’
    More tears pushed behind her nose. ‘Thank you.’ Sally bowed her head and hurried out of the church. The sunshine was a hundred times brighter than she was expecting and she put up a hand to shield her