Page 43 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“You know what?” I whirl to face him. My dress feels like a cheese grater against the inside of my wrists. “Ishouldgo to Sisters of Mercy. In fact, why don’t I just go there right now since it’s obvious you don’t want me here.”

I don’t wait for his reply. My dress scrapes against my legs as I charge for the door leading out of this hell hole.

It’s not just his cigarette smoke giving me a headache. Tears are waiting to fall.

Father Gabriel can say what he wants, I’m not biting.

My parentsbelieved.

In God.

In the church.

In Father Gabriel.

Their lives—and subsequently, mine—were formed around the concept God is love. They say he notices when a damn swallow falls, but he couldn’t be bothered to save two cherished members of his flock?

I don’t give a fuck about me—God and me, we’ve never really been on speaking terms—but my parents deserved better than having their brains smeared over the tarmac because they hit a patch of ice.

I jerk at the door handle, but somehow Gabriel locked it when I wasn’t looking because it won’t open.

A hand appears, grasps mine, draws my fingers away.

I snatch it back. “Let go,” I snap.

I try the door again. Gabriel slings a hand around my waist and drags me back.

“Let me go!” I shriek.

He lifts me bodily, and I start kicking and screaming like I’m possessed.

I’m vaguely aware Gabriel’s trying to get me to calm down, but I can’t stop fighting him.

I won’t.

I’m a bottle of soda someone’s been shaking and shaking and shaking.

Gabriel’s just popped open the tab.

“I can’t let you go,” comes Gabriel’s voice as I pause to draw breath. “Our holy Father won’t allow it, child.”

“Fuck you!” I beat at him with my fists, and he finally releases me when I land a blow to his midsection. “Fuck you, and fuck your God!” I stagger, stab a finger toward him. “You weren’t there. He wasn’t there. Never. Not once!”

Gabriel rushes forward, and I try to block him. But he’s obviously had practice at calming down hysterical members of his clergy. He sidesteps easily before wrapping me in his arms and squeezing the life out of me.

My legs become weak and rubbery. Soon, they can no longer hold my weight.

We sink to the carpet. My ragged sobs and Gabriel’s heavy breathing as he resists my struggles are the only sound for amoment. This close, he smells of red wine and cigarettes and a woody cologne.

There’s a crash.

I hiccup in fright and turn to the door.

Reuben’s standing there, shoulders bunched and hands held in blades. There’s a look of such avid determination in his black eyes that I shrink away.

Inadvertently seeking comfort in Gabriel’s arms.

“I heard…” Reuben cuts off.

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