Page 3 of Silent Prayer

Another chuckle, this one sending chills down her spine. "I'm as real as the guilt you carry. As real as the vows you broke."

How could he know? Who was this man?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock. The door to the priest's side of the confessional swung open.

She pressed herself further into the corner, her breathing shallow and quick. Fight or flight instincts warred within her as the robed figure stepped into view.

In his hand, he gripped a heavy brass candlestick.

"What are you doing?" Laura asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone about this."

The priest took a step closer, his face still hidden in shadow. "No, you won't. You're good at keeping secrets, aren't you?"

Laura's eyes darted around the small space, desperately searching for an escape. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

"I made a mistake," she said. "I'm sorry. I'll make it right, I promise."

"Promises." The priest spat the word like a curse. "What value do your promises have now, Laura? I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, to choose rightly, but you turned me down. You've left me with no choice."

What was he talking about? What chance had he given her?

He took another step forward, raising the candlestick. Laura could see her terrified reflection in its polished surface.

"No, please," she whimpered, her voice barely audible. "Don't do this."

The priest paused, the candlestick hovering in the air between them. For a moment, hope fluttered in Laura's chest. Maybe he would reconsider. Maybe this nightmare would end.

But then he spoke, his voice low and filled with a terrible purpose. "It's time I showed you the error of your ways, Laura. Time you understood the true weight of your sins."

Laura's eyes widened in horror as the candlestick began its downward arc. Time seemed to slow. She could see every detail: the play of light on the brass, the tensing of the priest's arm, the inevitable path toward her unprotected head.

Something in her snapped. With a surge of adrenaline, she lunged forward, her shoulder connecting with the priest's midsection. The unexpected move caught him off balance, and he stumbled backward, the candlestick clattering to the floor.

Emboldened, Laura scrambled past him, her fingers clawing at the door. It was still locked, so she slammed her body against it repeatedly. The wood creaked and groaned under the assault.

Behind her, the priest groaned, his angry breaths filling the small space. "You can't escape your sins, Laura," he said.

Laura's eyes darted around, searching for a weapon. She spotted the fallen candlestick and dove for it.

The priest lunged at the same moment. Their hands grappled for the brass object, a frantic tug-of-war in the confined space of the confessional.

Laura's fingers closed around the cool metal. With a yell of defiance, she swung it upward, aiming for the priest's cowled head.

But the priest was quicker. He jerked back, narrowly avoiding the blow. In the same motion, his hand shot out, grabbing Laura's wrist and twisting it painfully.

She cried out, the candlestick slipping from her grasp. The priest's other hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her screams.

"Enough," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "It's time to face judgment."

Laura's eyes blazed with fury and fear as she struggled against his grip. She wouldn't give up. She couldn't. But as the priest's hand tightened around her throat, darkness began to creep in at the edges of her vision.

Her last conscious thought was a silent plea for help, for salvation, for one more chance to make things right.

Then the priest's free hand found the candlestick and raised it. It froze overhead for one long, terrible moment.

And then came crashing down.

CHAPTER ONE

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