Page 50 of Sin of the Saints

“B-because…” The words gather up into a lump in my throat, and I fall silent.

“Yes?”

I force myself to take a deep breath before breaking through the wall holding me back. “Because my father says life is a blessed gift, but how can that be when I feel cursed?”

“After reading the scriptures, you still think God has it out for you? That He wants you to suffer?”

“Yes! And reading them only reinforced that!” I shout, sharply raising my gaze to him. “Isn’t that what the administrator preaches at every Sunday mass? We’re all fucking sinners!” He’s unmoved by my reaction and adds another note to his notebook. “I hope I’m providing you with good research material,” I blurt out bitingly.

“As I do you?” he smiles, raising his eyes to me, and I quickly turn my head away. Damn it, I hate that I want to hate him. But I don’t, not at all.

“It’s not the same thing. It’s not real.” I cross my arms and frown, hoping it’ll disguise the fiery blush in my cheeks.

“But your pain is real, Belle.” My lower lip starts quivering and I bite it hard to keep from bursting into tears in front of him, like I do every fucking meeting.

“It’s alright not to always be in control,” he slowly says, and the lump in my throat just keeps growing, threatening to break the dam. “I know it’s what your father continues to insist on, control, but it’s not true. If you don’t let go occasionally, you might explode, with devastating consequences. Just like the reason you’re here.”

His words bring me right back to the memory of that night. It was ugly, to say the least. The weeping, the punches I threw atmy own head to silence the voices – his voice, the voice telling me I was only worthy because of him, that if I didn’t give in to him I’d be nothing. Nothing at all. That’s all I’ve ever felt. So why not return to the void? It’s the only thing I could do to make it all stop. To give in to the paralyzing silence.

“Belle?” Dr. Abano stirs me from my thoughts. I look up at him and feel the tears flowing down my cheeks. I’m not even strong enough to stop them.

“My father won’t like that,” I say with some difficulty. “The administrator will have a tough time accepting it too.” My voice trembles and I wipe my nose at the end of every word.

He laughs, like my tears don’t affect him. He’s used to it, of course. All the broken hearts in this place cry in front of him. “Let me worry about the administrator. The things we’re discussing are between us, I give you my word. Your father wasn’t happy that I let you explore other religions either. We’re Italian, after all.” He winks at me, and I force myself to fake a laugh but it sounds pathetic.

“Yeah,” I wipe my nose before it gets too ugly and awkward, and manage to get a decent breath into my lungs. His laughter has a tendency to ground me. “He even dragged me to the Holy Land before coming back here. He was totally convinced I’d find my faith there, but wow was he wrong.”

“He isn’t wrong, you know. That land has magic in it. Faith is everywhere there: the air, the water, the wind blowing between the mountains. You just need to learn to open your eyes and heart.”

“I tried, but it didn’t work.Hehates me.”

“You won’t be able to accept the love of others, especially His, until you let go of your hatred towards yourself.Hedoes not withhold His love from any of His children.” I take a deep breath and tighten my grip on my knees. He repeats these words dozens of times, but something within me blocks them out andrefuses to accept them. “Think about it, Belle.” I nod. “In that case, you’re dismissed for the day. I think breakfast has already been served.”

I hurriedly wipe away my tears and he hands me the tissue box on his desk. I chuckle at the frequency with which he must order them. That company’s making a fortune at our expense, it seems. I shove my chair back and leave his office, continuing to ponder that. It’s really strange, the details that choose to be burned into our consciousness.

Chapter Thirty

Bellcolor

Isit by the wooden desk. The layer of plastic covering it is faded and peeling away. It’s really sticky, a testament to the filth these lost souls leave behind in this place that can never be washed away.

A worn plastic plate is placed before me with a set of utensils, also plastic. They’re pretty smart, they’d never give us weapons. Despite the evidence, they still permit residents to smoke. The scars on many residents’ bodies prove that. I was deeply horrified the first time I noticed them on one of the patients, yet the administrator chooses to ignore it. Maybe he’s gotten used to them, maybe he’s gotten used to our pain as well.

“I thought you might miss breakfast,” Valentina sits down across from me. “Why didn’t you pass by our room and call me?”

“Sorry, the meeting was a little rough. I guess I was just on autopilot.” I poke at the lump of cheese with my fork, cutting it into smaller and smaller lumps, wondering if that’ll finally make them disappear without me having to eat them.

“Well, if you’d like to forget for a bit…” She leans towards me and whispers, “I managed to get us some weed. Finish up and maybe we can sneak behind the buildings before gym class.”

“How’d you manage that?” I whisper back, surprised all over again.

She smiles and naughtily wiggles her eyebrows. “I’ve got my ways. These angels of yours are no saints.”

I stifle a laugh, but the moment Ellis glares at us I quickly turn my gaze down and force a slice of hard-boiled egg into my mouth. Valentina smiles and winks at him, and he approaches. God, sometimes I think she teases him on purpose to get us in his sights.

“You’re not eating, Ms. Bandini?” He places his hands on his hips. Ellis is a very tall man, and when he towers over us while we’re seated I can’t help but feel intimidated, despite everything he’s done for me in this place, especially during the dark times.

“I already ate, Walter saved some for me earlier. I just came back to find Belle so we could go to gym class together,” she answers in a calm tone, and I know she’s lying. Valentina almost never eats, and somehow she manages to dodge the inquisitive eyes of the staff.

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