The Weight of the Cross

written by myself
Olivia with her elderly grandmother lived together in a church on the edge of the city, where far away from her ever hometown. In fact, Olivia thought it's not a bad idea to be a young maid of the remote church if she clearly make distinction of short profit and long profit, Pastor Ethan could provide her a decent job that can sustain their livelihood, all these owe to massive disciples who devoutly and steadfastly following Ethan. Each disciple has a cross-shaped necklace symbolizing his own meaning, but what really confused Olivia is that what kind of charm does an ordinary middle-aged Jewish man with a full beard possess to attract so many followers? But she don't know, also she don't care why that. What she really care about is the time when turn to feed the cows far away from the farm, and when should she to push these cute creature into the fence before the sunset over the western mountains. Only after finishing these busy things daily, she could relieve herself by wandering around the narrow and secluded path near the church. Every day Olivia feel a little strange about grandmother, she thouht after coming here several months, such boring and hard life as if had strangled grandmother's hope for future, she is always absent-minded and lost in thought, looking blank. Too busy she was to early find out that is cross-shaded necklace finally killed her lovest family and it also has a tendency to cause physical dependence in the body and hallucinations in the brain of a person.That was why grandmother's spirit had faded away slowly, after grandmother died three days, Olivia found that the terrifying truth was that the seemingly respectable priest would add hallucinogens to the cross necklaces every night to deceive the believers into donating money and jewels. The elderly and vulnerable, like her grandmother, were the first to be used as test subjects for the dosage. Unable to accept the truth, her blood seemed to freeze. She recalled her grandmother's pale face and the smile of the neighbor who died mysteriously. Yet, she was diligently serving the criminal every day. Jesus' eyes were filled with the despair of the wronged souls. She would no longer wait passively. Leaning on her absolute loyalty, made him trust her completely. Somehow, every time when she thought it, a sense of sadness and self-mockery welled up in her heart.  After planning everything considerably, she put sleeping pills in the milk she delivered to the Ethan's room as usual in the middle of the night. The normal cross necklace once again became a murder weapon, stained with the priest Ethan's blood and carrying the devout faith of the believers. During her escape, Olivia often thought of the cross of Jesus. She could always hear the cries of the wronged souls, but at least she had killed the root of evil. Along the long way, she told stories of justice as if she could find her redemption form it and get rid of evils she had made and the blood she .
written by deepseek
The Weight of the Cross

In the shadowed silence of a remote church, Olivia's life unfolded as a paradox of devotion and disillusionment. The wooden crucifix above the altar watched mutely as she navigated her dual existence - a dutiful maid by day, tending to cows and scrubbing floors, and a restless soul by twilight, wandering forest paths that mirrored her tangled thoughts. The church, once a sanctuary, had become a gilded cage where faith was weaponized by Pastor Ethan's cunning hands.

Initially, Olivia viewed her role pragmatically. Ethan's charisma had secured their survival, his flock of disciples donating jewels and coins that clinked like hollow prayers in the collection box. She noticed the cross pendants first as aesthetic quirks, their intricate carvings glinting on every follower's chest. But when her grandmother's mind began dissolving like mist - vacant stares replacing bedtime stories, trembling hands spilling soup - Olivia sensed a rot beneath the chapel's polished surface. The elderly woman's death unveiled the grotesque truth: Ethan had turned holy symbols into drug-laced shackles, testing his hallucinogenic concoctions on the vulnerable.

The revelation struck Olivia like a sacramental dagger. Memories crystallized - her grandmother's ashen face, neighbors vanishing after confessing "visions," Ethan's beard bristling as he preached about spiritual awakening. Now she understood: the crosses weren't emblems of faith but instruments of control, their silver arms pumping toxins into believers' veins. The same toxins that had extinguished her grandmother's light.

Her vengeance unfolded with cold precision. For months, she weaponized obedience, delivering nightly milk with lowered eyes until trust replaced Ethan's suspicion. The night she crushed sleeping pills into his cup, the chapel's stained-glass saints seemed to lean closer, their colored light pooling like blood on stone floors. When the cross pendant finally pierced Ethan's