“_____,” the priest said, capturing my attention. “May I talk to you and your mother in private?” He eyed the boys before his eyes landed back on me.

“_____, do you know this person?” Namjoon asked, getting closer and emitting a protective aura.

Seeing the priest surprised me, but by the look in his eyes, I knew that what he had to say was important.

“Guys, I’m going to need a minute. Could you do me a favor and leave the room for a bit?” I asked.

“Are you sure, _____?” Yoongi asked, which to I nodded.

Everybody else stood up, and walked out the door, giving me puppy-eyed looks while they exited the room.

Once they were out of sight, I turned my attention back to the priest. I made sure not to make eye-contact though, and went to wake my mother.

I gently shook her awake. She slowly opened her eyes, and once they landed on me, her lips turned upward into a gentle smile.

I returned her smile, and was once again grateful for my mother waking up from her coma, that I almost forgot that the priest was here.

The priest coughed, causing us to break away from our mother-and-daughter bonding.

“What are you doing here?” My mother asked, once she saw the priest.

“I have more news about your daughter’s…condition.” He replied.

“We’re all ears. Is it good or bad news?” She asked, sitting up on her bed. I quickly helped her once I saw she was struggling.

“Thank you, _____.”

I smiled back.

“I came to give you more clarification on the news I had given you before.” He said, in the husky tone of voice of his.

I turned and looked at the priest once again. He was wearing the traditional clothing a priest would wear, with a pair of black combat boots that just threw his whole outfit off. I slowly raised my eyes to his face. The priest was average when it came to his look, considering he was middle-aged.

When I first met him, I had assumed he was hitting on my mother, saying things like, “I know what’s been troubling in your heart.” I rolled my eyes once I heard that, but did not say anything. We had met him after the whole accident with middle school, and I was already weary of any guy, no matter what age.

I was glaring at the ground, since I was too scared to make eye contact with anybody, including my mother. I was holding onto her arm, and was about to lead her away from the weird person who was hitting on her when his next words caused me to still.

“I know what happened to your daughter while she was at school.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” my mother said, trying to step away from him.

“Your daughter is cursed. More specifically, her eyes.” He explained, causing my mother to hesitate to leave.

“Mom, let’s go,” I said, trying to intervene.

“_____, be patient. He might know what is going on.” My mother said, shushing me.

“Or he could just be crazy! We don’t know that!” I replied.

“He is right here,” he said. “And if you do not want to know, it’s fine. It won’t affect me if I won’t tell you, but I thought it would be nice to let you know. Good day to both of you,” the priest said before bowing and turned to leave.

“Wait! I want to know more! Can you please help us? Please?” My mother asked with tears in her eyes.

“But mom!” I said.

“Enough _____, I’m desperate, and I just want to know more about why this is happening to you.”

I felt tears prickling my eyes, and I just nodded. Then my mother grabbed my hand, and we followed the priest all the way to his church.

The next thing we knew, my mother and I were sitting on a couch in the living room with the priest right across from us in a chair, just staring at me.

I was squirming, feeling incredibly awkward, and I was avoiding his gaze.

“So Ms. _____, how long has this been happening to you?” He asked me.

“Shouldn’t you be giving us answers instead of asking us questions?” I replied, my tone coated in sarcasm.

My mother lightly smacked my arm.

“_____, behave,” she said scolding me, “just answer his questions.”

I muttered something under my breath, and rolled my eyes.

“It started when I was about to graduate seventh grade.”

“And what grade are you in now?”

“I’m homeschooled now, but I’m in eighth,” I whispered, trying not to remember the accident in too much details.

“_____, when you were in middle school, did you look at anybody in the eyes?”

Tears started to blur my vision, and I knew who he was referring to.

“Yes, my history teacher,” I brokenly whispered.

“I’m sorry to bring up memories that hurt you, but did you also look at others in the eyes?”

I nodded my head