Page 31 of Deliver us from Evil

Ha, ha, ha. I guess he was.

“Slut like you, you don’t deserve to eat.”

Oh Lord. It’s all coming back to me now. The things I told him when we were in the bathroom. Boy do I regret that plan.

I need to turn this around.

I wish it didn’t have to come to this, but I can’t think of any other way of doing that.

“Father, please.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” Denial isn’t the way to go. But confession might just work. “I sinned. I know that now, I see it. I just…”

I drop my head. The tears that come aren’t all that forced. I’ve had a lot of practice with feeling sorry for myself.

I’ve been doing it my whole life.

I pitied the fact that I had such strict parents. That I could never do all the fun stuff other kids did.

Then I pitied myself because I’d been orphaned by a random twist of fate. That God had let two of his sheep die. Then came Saint Amos, and oh boy did my pity party turn into a rager.

Now this.

I used to challenge the Universe. I’d shout “What else you got?” in my head when I was feeling particularly downtrodden.

But I’ve met a group of men who could have pitied themselves day in and day out. I can’t believe how weak I am, compared to them. How little it took to defeat me.

The attention of one man, when they’ve had to withstand many.

Two days, when they lasted years.

So yeah. I think I can suck it up and play pretend for a while.

“Will you help me, father?”

Gabriel’s chin lifts a little higher. “Help you?” His voice is faint. He frowns, opens his mouth. But I cut him off with a sob that’s not at all feigned.

Every cell in my body is screaming at me to stop, but this is the only way.

That’s how you overcome fear, right? You face it.

I walk up to him, stumbling over the things scattered over the floor, and I put my arms around him, and I hug him hard.

When I close my eyes, I can almost believe it’s my first day at Saint Amos, and he’s just arrived outside my room.

The familiar smell of his fabric softener, his aftershave, him...wafts up to me. When he wraps his arms around me so tight.

“Please, father.” Another sob. “Help me find the light.”

His chest expands as he inhales, and I shiver when he kisses the top of my head.

“Of course, child,” he murmurs.

Hands find my face. He draws back my head and stares down into my eyes. His smile is wide, and warm, and genuine. It shouldn’t, but it lights a candle inside me.

He strokes away a tear with his thumb. “Come. Let’s eat.”

---