#points 1

Juno’s last role before the accident: FATHER BURROWS in the psychological horror film THE DESECRATED HOST. The film follows an exorcist who is tormented by a demon; the crescendo of the second act comes when he hallucinates a ghostly mass, only to discover that in his delusion he has killed and eaten two young boys, allowing a demon entry into his soul.

❝ He’d been in the same position for too long: kneeling on cold stone, every light in the abandoned church turned out except the darkroom spotlights that bathed the place in red. Blood red, enough to dull the starkness of the fake blood that dribbled down Juno’s chin; it tasted vaguely sweet, and he wondered how many more takes Jess wanted before he could eat. Before he could drink, and drop out of the hoarseness he’d adopted for the character.

“Alright, from the top, with feeling.” Inwardly, Juno was sick of hearing those words. Outwardly, he nodded numbly, barely even shifting to ease his numb legs. “I know you’ve got something spectacular in you, I’ve seen you do it. Now put yourself back into his mind. You’re a priest who’s been tricked into accidentally cannibalising these two boys. Feel his pain. Express it.”

The sound of the clapper board rang in Juno’s ears like the tolling of a church bell, aggravating the dull headache that had been building for most of the morning. One more take. One more take, then he’d be done.

“Pater, ignosce.” Father, forgive me. Juno cradled the lifeless dummy, letting more fake blood spill down his lips. “Pater, ignosce, pater ignosce,” over and over until the words became merely another heartbeat, mingling with the one that thundered in his ears. “Please.” As low and broken as he could make it, the word of a man who believed he was damned. “Please, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Glancing back down at the dummy, he was filled with fresh, unforced horror. So young, so desperately mutilated -- what had he done? There was no atonement for this, only the sickening knowledge that whatever this was, it had laid his soul bare for the taking.

As if on a spiritual cue, Juno snapped his head up, peering into the darkness. Maybe Jess was fucking with him, maybe he was so far down the rabbithole that he was hallucinating, but he could’ve sworn he heard a sound. A scraping, as if something was emerging from under the altar.

“Exorcizamus te,” His blood-soaked hand went to the rosary around his neck, almost instinctually now. There was definitely something rising from the altar, a dark shape that made his hand tremble as he counted the beads. “Exorcizamus te, omnis imundus spiritus.”

The words died in his throat as that shadowed figure began to move forward. Please let it be a joke, please let it-- “Almighty Father, deliver me from the devil, pater ignosce, please.” Mixing Latin and English as real panic began to grip him; the thing shuffled ever closer and he wanted to run, but the cameras were still rolling. Straining in the almost-darkness, Juno tried to make out something -- anything -- that would tell him it was all a prank, but no salvation came.

He barely felt the tears begin trickling down his cheeks, half-acting, half desperate fear as the cameras were still rolling, the black shape moving closer, closer until even the words wouldn’t fall from his lips. This was the time when the demon was supposed to enter; true to the script, even with that thing hovering over him, Juno bucked and jerked as if invisible hands were forcing themselves down his throat. Fuck this, fuck this, why had he signed up for this? Even as he thought it, he knew the answer: tortured souls drew him like candles in the dark.

Even if he was too terrified to speak, he could scream, as the shadow-thing took one last step towards him. Juno shut his eyes, every story of cursed sets coursing through his mind at once, and let the scream build, his own fear layered over the character’s agony. Go away, please make it go away --

Thud.

Juno knelt there with his eyes screwed shut, tears tracking down his cheeks. God, his knees ached from the position; his throat was impossibly dry, and yet that shape hadn’t entered his soul. Instead, he could hear laughter. Tentatively, he allowed one eye to open.

There was Jess, illuminated bu the harsh light of a phone torch, struggling to both contain his laughter and extricate himself from one of the mock-up demon costumes.

“You--” Juno found that the words wouldn’t come, his mind still lost between courage and relief. Hands shaking even as he tried to scrub away the tears.

“Boo!” Jess collapsed into giggling again, wriggling out of the costume. “God, your face.” He leant over and booped Juno’s nose; perhaps it was supposed to be endearing, but it just made him feel like a stupid child, always the butt of everyone’s jokes. “You know, that was your best take yet. Let’s wrap for the morning, go get yourself some lunch.”