Page 56 of Sin of the Saints

The laws of the game are simple and there are no winners, only losers. The only question is what its players lose.

If I choose to keep them for myself, I lose myself.

It’s been years since the day I sought death through pills, and every time I swallow a fistful of pills I’m thrown back to that hellish night. Since then I’ve been reliving it over and over for a few moments at a time, the pain, the sounds, my weakness, and if I’ve managed to survive, I encounter a serpent of light within the clear waters of the Kinneret that coils around me and grants me its peace, its forgiveness.

I never shared with Dr. Abano that this is the only place I meetHim, because I know it’s not real. Just like the words I write, the worlds I create. How can I explain to him that I found His place without giving away the fact that I’m deceiving them? How can I explain that to find Him I have to swallow an amount of pills that flirt with danger just to encounter him there?

And why does He only meet me when Death is whispering at the back of my neck?

And yet the other side of the game is far more upsetting. When I chose to trade with the other patients, a routine matter when you’re out for favors, I lost my soul.

It happened when three patients I was trading with for a long time took their own lives using the pills I’d provided them.

Evan, Liam and Tyra. Those were their names, but we’d all called them ‘the trio’, even though they weren’t related. I never knew whether they’d chosen to isolate themselves or whether the other patients had isolated them. Even among the damned they were unusual. Quite a twisted accomplishment. They refused to be parted, making a pact and swearing a blood oath that they’d go free together. When they realized Liam’s condition was deteriorating and he’d never be eligible for release, they decided to free themselves from this world.Together.

There was an in-depth investigation to determine how they’d gotten their hands on the pills, but my cowardice won out and I was silent. I knew that if I confessed to trading, I’d be confessing to murder as well. But I never forgot that their blood was on my hands. The shame and guilt soon followed, and they were unbearably heavy, drowning me. After their deaths, the demons that had held them clung to me, filling my heart with corruption I can never get rid of.

I never forgot their true faces, even though all the media coverage called them ‘the three fallen angels’. People tend to do that, lying and erasing their sins towards the dead, renouncing their part in what led them to plummet into oblivion. There are those who can do so, and there are the damned like me.

With every angel who fell, I again proved I deserve the curse I bear, which excites the demon within me, dancing in their blood in an intoxicated frenzy. I understood that the depths of grief you’ll experience depends on the depth of guilt gnawing its way into your souls.

And mine?

My soul was already forfeit anyway, but after learning of the death of the three patients, I realized I’d never find my way out.

The terrible consequences of my actions led me to realize that it was time for Lilith to submit. I know Dr. Abano won’t be pleased with the last chapter I wrote, especially since he’s unwilling to accept her surrender, but I’m not writing this to please him, not even to please myself. He asked me to write my truth, and that’s what I did, even when the truth is ugly. And the truth is, despite my heart’s desire, she’ll never be strong enough to deal with Libretto. I hoped my crimes against myself would be worthy of God’s forgiveness but now I know that if I can’t forgive the crimes I’ve visited on others, I don’t deserve His forgiveness.

My heart’s wishes are empty, just like the prayers I’m forced to mumble during Sunday masses under the scrutiny of the administrator.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Bartimaeus

Sunrise approaches, but I risk being late to my meeting with Belle so I can head out on my own quest for revenge. I get ready and dress in my modest room at the staff’s residential wing, and make my way to the art room that also serves as a club for the rest of the work. It’s time for Mr. Fleming to face judgment for the consequences of his actions.

My footsteps echo as I walk the empty corridors of the central building. All the patients are still asleep, but I know Belle will be waking up very soon and preparing for our morning session. If I’m late, she might end up watching the sunrise alone again, which I must prevent at all costs.

The dawn gives birth to a new day, but it kills her every time. She confessed to me that it gives her hope, but as the day goes by, hope is taken from her as she can’t face her demons, until finally sunset extinguishes her hope.

I don’t bother knocking, and meet Mr. Fleming’s surprised expression as he’s arranging the easels for his class in a circle. I know his usual routine. He comes in early, before everyonewakes up, to prepare the room for the weekly class he teaches – art therapy – and then he enjoys the last moments of silence and paints a bit himself.

“Dr. Abano, you startled me,” he places a hand on his chest. “Is something wrong?”

I skip the morning pleasantries and unnecessary small talk, and get to the point: “What do you think of Gustav Courbet?”

His eyebrows immediately rise, but he tries to hide it and assumes an innocent expression. “Realist painter. What’s it to you?”

“Because I know you showed Belle his paintings, and they’ve been haunting her ever since.” I try to keep my face expressionless. “Is the administrator aware that you’ve strayed from the meticulous lesson plan he authorized?”

His gaze flashes behind me, as though checking whether anyone can hear us, but it’s too late because he’s already been caught, and it’s not the administrator he should fear but the one standing before him.

“The administrator gave me free reign regarding the program I teach in my classes, so who are you to criticize me?”

I chuckle, “We both know that’s not true, so spare me your empty excuses.”

“There’s no reason for me to give you excuses of any kind.” He folds his arms over his chest.

“If you’re being defensive, that means you’re well aware of who’s responsible for her regression. I demand you confess to the administrator and prevent what he’s planning for her.”

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