It had been three years before Joey was allowed to graduate from children’s music to popular Christian songs. With Annabelle’s help to convince his grandmother that certain singers and bands were safe for a supposed demon, he finally felt satiated once again, as if getting a fix for an addiction. Almost every waking moment he listened to every song by the handful of artists he was allowed to hear, soaking in the melodies of guitars, both electric and acoustic, and memorizing the beats of the drums. But for three more years he was stuck with just that, only occasionally allowed a new album released by some of the artists.

His craving for more increased quickly. He knew there was so much more out there, that being forced to only listen to Christian music was limiting his ability to fill his need. But there was no way his grandmother would allow him free reign. Maybe there was more within the genre that he could explore. He felt he was worthy of the trust.

For all those years he kept his powers in check, only using them while locked in his room, with the exception of reading the lessons from his private tutor’s mind. He had finally been allowed to eat dinner with the family—at Annabelle’s insistence—and forced himself to not look at anyone so his grandparents couldn’t accuse him of reading their minds. He noticed they seemed to be more relaxed during these times, that maybe they weren’t as afraid or disgusted by him. His grandfather stopped threatening death upon him, but still insisted he not be allowed in church or anywhere outside the house. Annabelle was in charge of Joey’s Bible study, and he had no complaints about that.

When his craving for more music was making him physically uncomfortable, he finally decided to ask Annabelle for help. “I’ve been reading some verses in Matthew again,” he said. “There’s one that speaks to me a lot right now, and I want to ask what you think.”

“Okay, ask away.”

Joey was always relieved by her eagerness to listen. He quickly turned to a page he had bookmarked. “So, in chapter six it says ‘For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.’ Do you think maybe that would apply to Grandpa and Grandma? I’ve really tried to be good and not use my powers around them, since they think it’s sin, so maybe they can forgive me now? Because according to this, God won’t forgive them if they don’t forgive me.”

As she always did, Annabelle smiled thoughtfully at him. And as always, he read her mind before she could attempt to block him out. He’s so smart, he’s right, he’s—

“Yes,” she said. “I do think it applies. And I’ve been really proud of your self-control. For years I’ve tried to get them to let you out of here, but…”

“I’m not asking to come out. I mean, it would be nice, but really what I want is to be able to listen to more music. I like everything I’ve heard so far, but I just really want more. Do you think they can forgive me enough to let me explore it more? I promise I’ll stick to Christian music. I really promise.”

“I trust you, but it’s Grandma that’s the most insistent about that. I think music is a harmless passion. Maybe it’s your purpose in life. Or it can be. I’ll try my best to convince her. And I’ll make sure to highlight your devotion and your dedication to the Bible, since she’ll likely appreciate that.” She stood from her chair but stopped at the door. “Actually, come with me. She should hear it from you.”

“No way she’ll listen to me.”

“Come.” Annabelle took his arm and led him down the stairs to the living room. It was a room he was not allowed in, originally due to his grandmother’s fears of him spreading his demon “germs” around too many rooms in the house. The room was twice the size of his bedroom and decorated lavishly with mahogany furniture, including two couches and several armchairs covered with elegant flower patterns. Delicate crystal statues and scenes of Jesus and the cross were placed on the fireplace mantel and various shelves. When Sandra looked up from her book as she sat on one of the armchairs, she jumped at the sight of Joey.

“Why is he here?” she said to Annabelle. “He is to stay in his room.”

Joey kept his eyes down in hopes it would comfort her.

“We were doing Bible study,” Annabelle said, “and, as he usually does, he had a great analysis of a couple of verses. He expressed to me that it was really meaningful to him, and I feel his analysis was spot on. Is Daddy around? He should hear it too.”

Sandra shouted to her husband in the nearby study, and he reluctantly joined them. “What is he doing here?”

“Hand me a Bible,” Annabelle said. “Joey wants to read you something.”

“No,” Joey said, keeping his head down. “I’ve memorized it. That’s how much I’ve been thinking about it.” Annabelle encouraged him to say it, so he repeated the verses, trying to sound strong but not defiant. When his grandparents said nothing, he said, “I’m not asking to come out of my room or anything like that. I just want to be able to listen to more music. I promise to only listen to Christian music. I promise to continue to not do the things you hate me for. I’ll stay in my room forever, just please allow me this one thing.”

He hated not being able to look at them. All he really wanted was to see their facial expressions, but even if he tried hard enough to not read their minds, they would think he was anyway.

“Well?” Annabelle said with the insistence Joey was hoping for. “Will you forgive him as Jesus says you should?”

More silence until finally a sigh from Sandra. “Fine. Give him access, Annie. But I will be checking to make sure he keeps his promise.”

“Great, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Curb the attitude, Annabelle,” Robert said. “You may be an adult, but as Paul says about Christian households, ‘Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord.’”

“And in the very next verse, he says, ‘Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.’ It’s your choice to not forgive Joey, therefore your choice to disobey Jesus. Goodbye.”

Immediately, Annabelle pulled Joey away and back to his room. “Wow,” Joey said. “You and Grandpa really go at it lately. Like, Bible battle.”

Annabelle chuckled. “He used to listen to me all the time, but now it’s like he enjoys the arguments. Almost like he wants to best me at a game of ‘Who Comes Up with the Best Verses.’”

“You sure won that one.”

“Maybe. I just hate arguing with him all the time. He’s really a great man, always has a great message for his followers, but sometimes…”

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Annabelle hugged him. “It’s not your fault. He’s always been this way, occasionally going off course and I have to bring him back. I just have an extra reason to work even harder at it.” She pulled away. “Now, let’s get you set up with some music.”

* * *

Joey now had a music app on his tablet that allowed him to search specific genres and listen to any album that popped up. He started with the “Most Popular” list within Christian music, some of which were ones he’d already heard, but he played and studied the others nonstop for days. Then he explored more categories and sub-genres, listening and analyzing every single song there was. As he went from Gospel to Worship to Pop to Hip-Hop he was starting to have a preference for certain styles. His grandmother had kept her promise of checking his listening choices and told him she didn’t approve of Hip-Hop, but he assured her that he didn’t enjoy it much and wouldn’t listen anymore.

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He finally made it to the Rock playlist and was immediately taken by it. The heavier guitars, the more complex beats, the more powerful vocals—he wished he had started with it because it was so much closer to what his heart was looking for. There’s more, there’s more, his heart kept saying. When the songs were too soft, he skipped them. There’s more, keep going. When they stayed heavy he soaked them in, chills going up his spine and spreading to his whole body. Halfway through the playlist came a song so heavy he audibly gasped. The vocals started out like growls, a shocking change from what he’d been listening to, but he was intrigued by it. Then the vocals became melodic again, carrying him once again. Then a guitar solo so fast, so intricate. Drums so full and varied. The vocals went back and forth between the harshness and the melodies, a combination with the massively heavy instruments that made him collapse on his back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

He was entranced. This is it. This. THIS.

Over and over and over he listened to the song. Then he searched the band and listened to their entire album, then the next. He lay completely relaxed, completely overpowered and taken by what his ears soaked in. Heavy metal. He never wanted to stop.

But his headphones were ripped from his head, his tablet falling to the floor, and his screaming grandmother stood before him.

“What on earth are you listening to?” Her eyes were wide in shock. “I knew you’d break your promise and find the devil’s music! I knew it!”

“No!” Joey quickly stood, which made Sandra jump back in fear. “It’s Christian music, I swear. I’ll show you.”

“Lies! This is exactly what I knew would happen. I saw you lying there, in a trance. I could hear it, that…that…devil’s music. I knew you would find it and the evil would come out.”

“No, no, it’s not devil’s music. Their songs are about faith and Jesus. That song just now, it’s about using faith in Jesus to be strong in hard times, to fight temptation, things like that. Honest. Just because it’s heavy doesn’t mean it’s devil worshipping or satanic or anything.”

“You can say that all you want, demon, but I will not have you listening to this evil in my house.”

“What’s going on?” Annabelle was at the door.

“He found the devil’s music!” Sandra said, pointing a shaking finger at Joey.

“It’s not! Annie, please believe me. The songs are about fighting Satan, not following him. Please!”

But there was uncertainty in her gaze, and he jumped into her thoughts as quickly as possible. Devil’s music? He wouldn’t, would he? Oh God, help me—

“What is this about devil’s music?” Robert’s voice boomed from behind Annabelle. “Take that tablet away immediately and get rid of it.”

“No!” Joey shouted. “Please don’t!” When Sandra picked up the tablet and headphones from the floor he tried to grab them back, but Robert burst in and took him by the throat.

It was Annabelle’s turn to scream and beg as Joey was thrust against the wall, a repeat of years ago, erasing all he had worked to earn. But all he could think about was the music, how badly he needed it as much as he needed to breathe. Through the corner of his eye he looked to Sandra and the tablet in her hand, which flew out of her grip, then he mentally opened a drawer of his dresser, sending the tablet inside and closing it. Sandra screamed in horror, backing into the corner. The pressure on Joey’s neck increased, cutting off all air.

“God, take the soul of this demon now through my hands, Lord God, spare us now—”

Joey pushed away all of his desire to make something fly at Robert’s head or make an electric outlet explode, anything to get the man to stop. It was those things that brought the hatred in the first place. It would make things worse. But he didn’t want to die. What if I go to Hell because I’m a demon?

It was Annabelle that got him free, flailing herself at her father and screaming at the top of her lungs. Robert finally released, looking at his daughter, appalled.

“Annabelle, you dare hit me? You dare treat your father this way?”

“And you dare try to kill someone in the name of the Lord, again? I assure you that God is looking down on you with disgust. A man who calls himself a man of God, a pastor, is asking God to help him commit murder. Surely if any of your followers tried such a thing, you’d denounce them.”

“He is a demon, Annabelle. You are so blind, after all your life where you’ve shown such wisdom. And you defend evil in the flesh. I should cast you both out of this house.”

Joey remained against the wall, rubbing his throat and watching Annabelle fume more than he’d ever seen her before.

“In the words of Jesus,” she said, her voice wavering, “’If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them if a large millstone were hung around their neck and they were thrown into the sea.’ You are the one who is blind. Perhaps you should be the one cast out. It pains me to think that God will turn his back on you for this.”

“You…” Robert took a step closer to Annabelle, eyes narrowed and fists clenched.

“Stop!” Joey’s voice was hoarse from being strangled. “Stop fighting about me.”

A fist flew and hit the side of Joey’s head like a hammer, and he fell to the ground. Again the temptation to fight back was strong, strong enough that his brain began to collect a schematic of the room in search of an appropriate electric outlet to explode. Annabelle dove to his side, and he looked in her eyes. Please don’t, Joey. Please, it’s okay.

“I could hurt you right now, Grandpa,” Joey said, getting to his hands and knees. “I could kill you in less than a second. But I won’t. I have more self-control than you. Would a demon do that? Would a demon choose not to kill when it’s so easy? Can a demon follow Jesus better than a human?”

Joey watched Robert’s jaw grind. “You will shut your mouth,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t you ever compare yourself to me.” He turned to his wife. “Take that tablet out of that drawer and get rid of it.”

When Sandra tried to open the drawer, Joey looked directly at it, forcing it closed with his mind.

“Stop it, boy!” Robert said, trying to open it too, but Joey didn’t move, focusing everything on keeping the drawer shut.

“Wait, wait!” Annabelle stood. “How about just…going back to what it was before? Where he can only listen to specific things. It keeps him calm and it’s safe. Those are two things you want, right? Calm and safe.”

They reluctantly agreed, but Joey did not, keeping his powers on the drawer.

“Joey, please,” Annabelle said softly, kneeling beside him again. “I know it’s not ideal but—”

“I don’t care if I have to stay like this forever. You will not take it away from me.”

Annabelle covered his eyes, but the schematic in Joey’s brain included the furniture, allowing him to hold it shut even without looking at it. He hid his surprise, as he’d never tried that expansion before.

“Seriously, Joey, please. I’m begging you, don’t fight over this. It will only make things worse.”

The thought of losing what he had fallen so madly in love with brought tears. He remembered the lyrics: “Let God give me strength for the battles of life. Every step in His name builds me up over time.” He released the drawer and let the tears flow.

As Annabelle made the changes to the tablet under her mother’s watchful eye, Joey climbed onto his bed and buried his face in the pillow. He was already empty inside, drained of what had filled him with pure joy. There was no reason to live other than to avoid Hell.

* * *

Annabelle held back tears as she left Joey’s room. Never before had he refused to speak to her, and his harsh words of “Go away” stung deep. She tried to convince herself that he was a teenager and therefore dramatically upset about the events of the evening, but he’d come around eventually. She hoped, anyway.

Retreating to her room, vowing to not speak to her parents for at least the rest of the day if not the next, she lay down on her own bed. She was exhausted; the guide voice had been so strong and insistent and fast, almost as much as the night Miranda was attacked. And it was strange, the voice not just telling her to save Joey. Stop him, the voice had said. Tell him, teach him, make him listen. And the Bible verse came to her lightning fast, the other accusations pouring out behind it. In hindsight she was shocked at what she’d said, telling her father he should be cast out. I’m crazy for saying that. But a little part of her felt it was true.

When she had reverted the access changes on Joey’s tablet, she had taken note of the band he had been listening to. He had claimed they were a Christian band, that their lyrics were spiritual, and she wanted to know the truth. She wanted him to have been telling the truth. Even if her parents would never believe it, she would at least feel better about it.

She got a boost of energy from thinking of that and got up and went to her computer. She searched the name and indeed they were labeled as a Christian metal band. Such a thing seemed like an oxymoron. Could something supposedly always laced with satanic themes be infused with Christian values instead? She dug further, eventually finding lyrics. Indeed their songs were empowering and spiritual. Though she thought such poetry sung—was it even singing?—over noisy guitars couldn’t possibly sound good, she smiled, relieved that Joey had been telling the truth.

He wasn’t taking a path of evil. He was following the good path, just in his own way.

Annabelle decided to research some Christian rock bands, something lighter than what he’d been listening to, but a little stronger than what he was now forced to have. She listened to some clips and began making a list, preparing to present it to her parents once they’d cooled down. On the website of one of the bands she found, Disciples Rising, was an advertisement for a five-day retreat at Yellowstone hosted by the band members. It was geared toward troubled teens, supposedly to inspire them to better their lives through music. It was perfect. And she would fight as hard as possible to convince her parents to let her take him.