Page 23 of Unholy Fate

In a daze, I allowed him to guide me out of the office and down the hall to my room. My legs were like rubber, threatening to give way at any moment. Collapsing onto my narrow bed, I curled into a tight ball, knees drawn up to my chest.

Father Hudson pulled the thin blanket over my trembling form, his face soft with sympathy and worry. “Rest now, child. We’ll…we’ll get through this, with God’s grace. Remember, He is always with you.”

Once he was gone, I sat up on the edge of my bed, my head throbbing under the bandage covering my burned forehead. The day’s events swirled in my mind: the incident with the crucifix, the pain, the dreams, the unwanted sensations of being touched intimately.

Could I really be possessed? The thought terrified me. I’d dismissed the existence of demons or angels as literal beings before, but now, doubt gnawed at the edges of my faith.

Glancing at my reflection in the small mirror across the room, the bandage was a glaring reminder of the strange and horrifying events of the past several hours. Exhaustion overtook me as I lay back on my pillow. The burn cream soothed my forehead somewhat, but the raw ache remained. Eventually, my racing thoughts blurred together, and I drifted off to sleep, physically and emotionally drained by the day.

After only a moment of soothing darkness, I found myself back in Father Hudson’s office, sitting across from him in the familiar, worn chair. The comforting smell of old books and lemon furniture polish filled the air. Father Hudson stood up.

“Evelyn,” he said, his tone soft and filled with admiration. “You are the best novice I’ve ever had the privilege to counsel.”

A rush of emotion washed over me at his words. Relief, pride, and something else, something warmer and deeper that I couldn’t quite define. I looked down, unsure how to respond. “Thank you, Father Hudson.”

“You’ve sacrificed so much,” he said reverently. “A brilliant legal career, a future of prestige, money, and power, all to serve God. That takes a strength very few people possess.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm fluffy blanket, filling me with a mix of pride and unease.

“I just want to do what’s right,” I said. “To…to serve the Lord.”

Father Hudson leaned forward slightly. “You inspire everyone around you, Evelyn. Even me.”

My heart stirred at his words, warmth blooming in my chest. I looked up and met his eyes, seeing an intensity there that I didn’t fully understand.

“Do you realize how rare you are?” he asked, almost intimately. “You’re brilliant. Devoted,” his voice dropped to almost a whisper, “beautiful.”

My face flushed at the unexpected compliment. “Beautiful?” The word was out of place coming from him, but it sent a shiver through me nonetheless.

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, warmer. I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of how close he was sitting. His words, his expression, maybe even his entire demeanor, had changed. Less like guidance, more like something forbidden.

“There’s no judgment here,” he said. “No one to tell you what you should or shouldn’t feel.”

His hand cupped my cheek for a moment, and I closed my eyes, willing the dream to change, to end. Instead, the warmth of his touch spread, seeping into me, awakening feelings I’d known were wrong. I’d known they were wrong my whole life.

I swallowed. “Father Hudson, I don’t?—”

“Shh,” he said, almost hypnotically. “You’ve given so much to others. Don’t you ever allow yourself to receive? To let someone care for you the way you deserve?”

I shifted in my seat, unnerved by his words and the heat that lingered on my skin where his fingers had just been. “I don’t... I don’t know what you mean.”

“Even the strongest,” he said, and leaned in closer, his words warm against my ear, “need comfort. Need connection.”

My mind screamed that this was dangerous, but my body had a different agenda, leaning into him, drawn to him. “This isn’tright,” I said. “I shouldn’t be... feeling this.” Heat, forbidden yet pleasurable, flooded between my legs.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered. “You’re such a good girl, Evelyn.”

I bit my lip, my eyes welling with tears. He was right. I had always been the good girl, the perfect one. But at that moment, in the dimly lit office, I didn’t want to be perfect anymore. I wanted to feel.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” he asked, his voice gentle but charged with something dangerous.

I shook my head, lips trembling, body fizzing with need. “No.”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “I’ll guide you.”

Fear, desire, and shame swirled within me, a heady mix that made me dizzy.

“Just let go,” he said. “You’ve been strong for so long. Let me take care of you.”

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