Page 10 of Broken

I broke into his house.

I stole his iPad.

I gave it to the police, telling them that I found it at the last town hall meeting.

Diana, my friend and his daughter, gave me his passcode. I switched off the need for one. And I said that while I was looking for an identifier, I came across disturbing images of him abusing his daughter…

It wasn’t a lie.

Now, he’s in prison. :)

Diana’s mom knew what he was doing to their daughter, but she isn’t in jail. I made sure everyone is aware that she was complicit in his abuse—a single post from a burner account on our town hall’s social media page achieved that.

Today was, indeed, a good day.

I hope you’re having a good one too.

I wish I could hold you. I know I’m not supposed to say things like that, but I do. You look like you need a hug. My mom’s hugs could fix global warming if she had long enough arms to embrace the earth. I know the power of a hug.

If you ever need one, I’ll be at this address for the next few years…

I pray this letter finds you a little less broken than the last time I wrote to you,

Andrea Jura

CHAPTER 6

Bergkerk confessional

GRONIGEN, NETHERLANDS

THAT SAME DAY

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession.

These are my sins.

Father, I have killed a man.

The burden on my soul is growing as I endeavor to follow Your path for me.

I thought, after Algeria, I understood Your plan.

But, I realize, that was prideful of me.

Here I kneel, as broken a beast as Farid and his ilk, more blood on my hands, my soul.

I swear to You I was patient, Father.

I waited. I learned. I tried to teach Your word, but my parishioner wouldn’t listen.

The Church has thrown me into this tiny town in the vain hope that I will fade into the background. None of my other placements have worked, despite my striving to fit in and to be the best priest I can be to Your flock. But people are weak and the penances I request ofthem can be demanding. I am not a popular man, for popularity is not what I seek. It is the purity of their souls that I wish to shield.

The Church says I ask too much of my parishioners. That in this day and age, I should not be so hasty when the number of worshippers is diminishing, but I know no other way.

Keeping sane in Oran depended on my steadfastness.

But despite the harshness of my teachings, I failed.

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