Page 45 of Bells

I’d explore it another time. Right now, it was all too raw and painful. I’d never be able to think clearly if I was hurting this much.

But hell, maybe I was thinking clearly. Everything she’d said about me was true.

I had a history of examples to look at.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into the darkness of my room. “For whatever I’ve done, God, I’m sorry. Please. . . I don’t want to be punished any longer. Please, God. I’m begging you. Save me. Please fucking save me. I just want to be normal. I want to be loved by someone I can love back. I want to be free of this pain. Please. Fucking please help me.”

I repeated my prayer until sleep took me.

And even in my dreams, I said it.

But that was simply just a nightmare because in it, Bells was laughing at me for being so fucking stupid.

CHURCH

It wasn’t often that I was miserable at Chapel Crest. Yes, I hated it there, but it was my sanctuary away from the madness I’d endured growing up. It was my haven. My place of solace. My place of power.

Now, I was powerless as I watched Sin crumble and break.

Bells had really fucked him up.

I’d helped, so I was no angel, but I’d done it to save him, not hurt him. I knew if I fucked her, he’d lose it and let her go.

Of course, that meant I ran the risk of losing him as well, but if it meant he was away from her conniving ass, I was willing to risk it.

I hadn’t even gotten off on her pussy. I’d felt nothing as I’d fucked her.

She was a means to an end. That’s all.

“Mr. Church, you’re wanted in the office,” Sister Helen called out as I sat in her Bible study class.

Normally, I’d tell her and whoever was beckoning me to the office to fuck off, but in this instance, I needed the distraction from my fucked up thoughts. I gathered my stuff and made my way to the office at the center of the campus and went inside.

I stopped in my tracks as my father walked out of Sully’s office, that shitty, wicked smile on his face.

“What do you want?” I demanded. I hated my father. To my very fucking soul, I hated that man. He was wicked and twisted and a million shades of fucked up. His sole purpose in life was to try to make me just like him.

He succeeded in many ways, but failed in so many more.

“Dante. My son,” he greeted me, the glint in his eyes not affection, but wickedness.

“What do you want?” I repeated in a low voice.

I glanced at Sully to see a matching smile on that prick. My father paid him off to fuck shit up around here. I was almost sure of it. Wicked men tended to stick together.

“Dante, your father was just telling me how you’re going to tour the Mayfair campus next summer. That’s exciting. Mayfair is a top university. Only the very best, brightest, and. . .sanemake it in there.” Sully winked at me.

Fuckhead cunt.

“Or those with enough money to buy their way in,” I said evenly. “I’m sure I’ll manage if I decide to attend.”

My father chuckled, nothing in the motion showcasing actual humor. It was all a display. He was like a peacock strutting around, showing off.

“Well, winning is winning, no matter how we do it, right?” Sully chuckled.

I wanted to punch him in the throat but refrained and focused on my father. “Are you going to answer me? What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a father come visit his son?” Father let out a soft laugh.

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