Page 59 of Sin of the Saints

I sigh with disappointment as I realize I’ve lost her. She shut down before I managed to reach the place containing the truth about Libretto. “Yes, that’ll be all. See you tonight,” I answer helplessly.

She rises without saying anything and I bury my head in my hands. I know tonight’s session might be our last. If the miracle I’m praying for won’t happen during mass today, and the administrator won’t gain control of the devil inside him, I won’t be able to continue doing my job here. I can’t keep shutting my eyes as the best of our patients isn’t a top priority, and I can no longer deny the tainting of my necessary objectivity for Belle’s continuing treatment.

Though my faith is flagging, I pray with all my might that God won’t turn His back on me.

Light the way for me before the accursed darkness covers me as well.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Bellcolor

“Yes, that’ll be all. See you tonight,” Dr. Abano answers as he buries his face in his hands. I’m supposed to be grateful for having been released, to run for my life, but his distress has been sending pangs through my heart from the moment he stormed into his office. I hold a hand out to him, but at the last moment I decide not to intervene. God knows I’ve got enough shit of my own to deal with.

Before I leave, I whisper, “I hope that what’s haunting you will leave you be soon.”

I carefully close the door behind me, hearing a deafening thud, and my legs swiftly carry me away from there. Instead of turning towards the cafeteria, I head in the opposite direction and leave the main building. I know I’ll cause a riot if I’m absent from breakfast, but my lungs are striving for air, and either way things can’t get any worse.

The rain intensifies and my hair and clothes cling to my skin as I make my way to my usual bench, which faces the mountains.I sit down, close my eyes, raise my head and let the drops hit my face.

Even though I hate the rain, it’s the only thing that can disguise my tears. I banish last night’s background noises from my mind, and sigh with relief as the cold seeps into my bones.

The words pound against my consciousness and I can’t let them loose, because I left my notebook in Dr. Abano’s office, although he didn’t notice that during our meeting. He was too troubled to notice it, or me for that matter. I couldn’t write here in the rain either. But I don’t need it. I relax and lean into the bench, staring at the heavy clouds; the darkness has penetrated the morning hours as well, but the light is fighting back, and lightning streaks across the skies, crying aloud. They haven’t given up yet.

Dr. Abano’s sharp gaze has left tingles of embers on my skin. I can always sense him when he looks at me with his maddening eyes. If he only knew that everything I’d written had been borne of my imagination first, when I closed my eyes and sleep wouldn’t come.

Just like now.

In my mind’s eye I imagine how the session would go if things had happened the way I wanted them to, and not the way life decided after Libretto took it over.

I probe between my legs, under my pants, and I don’t care who’s watching. Especially not He who brings down rain from on high.

Because I’m filthy, filthy, filthy.

Dr. Abano bites the edge of his pen as his eyes rake over me like I’m his most important bit of research. And God, I so hope that Ireally am that. Sometimes I think he’s the only one who can tell the difference between me and the lies I’ve built up in my head, that he’s the only one who sees the real me.

I’m sick of being invisible. I’m sick of being my father’s secret, with an illness no one talks about because it carries heavy shame.

When his eyes drop to my heaving chest I fix my nails in my thighs, anticipating, my breath halting as he pushes his chair back and approaches me. He seems different today, and I can’t pin down exactly how. I stare at his black slip-on shoes as he stands before me and leans against the desk. I refuse to raise my eyes.

“You really are my forbidden fruit,” he places his hand on my thigh.

“I-I…” I start to say, but my voice betrays me.

“It’s alright, Belle, you can let go when you’re with me.” He caresses my hand and I loosen my nails from my skin, surely leaving behind tiny imprints despite the fabric covering me. He caresses the stinging spot and I tremble. “You really were made for me,” he continues saying the words my fantasy created and I dare to raise my head and meet his hypnotizing gaze. A dark smile spreads across his face, and the air is forced from my lungs.

“S-someone might come in,” I say with some difficulty, knowing it’s pointless. He only touches me after dark, after most of the staff have left the complex and the patients are in their rooms. He told me more than once that he waits for sunset because that’s the time our demons can be let loose to dance, to release their inhibitions, to truly live. I truly and honestly think that he believes that as well, but releasing them during the day is too dangerous a game.

“You think I can stop myself after reading the chapter you wrote about what happened at the barn?” His hand crawlstowards my crotch and I feel a sharp stab between my legs as he stops, a mere touch away.

“I-it’s just fantasy…” I continue to insist.

He grunts and tightens his grip on me. “How long will you keep refusing to see what you’re writing between your words?”

“You’re the one who insisted on me writing. You said it would free me.”

“Only your truth will free you, but you refuse to see it.” He wraps his arm around my thighs and lifts me into the air with one swing. He turns me around, seats me on his desk and positions himself between my legs. I choke back a sigh.

“It’s just fantasy.” The lie leaves a bitter taste on my tongue because I know he’s right.

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