Page 67 of Broken

“I am.” Being around her makes me feel it more as well. The ancient slog of hauling around evilness is a burden I never signed up to carry. “I stopped being as purehearted as you when I was thirteen.”

Her leg drifts over the sheets, making a soft whirring sound. I recognize it, even as I wait for the collision of her toes touching mine.

My eyes close at the simplest connection of all.

“What happened when you were thirteen?”

Her whisper has my eyes popping open. “I was bullied.”

When memories crowd me, she hums again, like she knows the past has consumed me.

“I heard that hymn for the first time when I entered seminary.” The humming doesn’t stop, but it’s a silent invitation to carry on. “My parents weren’t happy about me becoming a priest. Mother cried about it for two days and Father’d shake his head at me whenever he saw me.” My wry smile is wasted in the darkness. “You are at the heart of my life.And He used to be. But now He isn’t. Though I try so hard to please Him, it isn’t enough.” I croak, “Don’t hum that. It’s a reminder of how I used to be and what I no longer am.”

She stops. Instantly.

Like she does every time I ask her to—or don’t ask, just make her. There’s no rebellion.

None whatsoever.

That’s why it’s easy to let my temper fall away.

She’d touched herself.

In my bed.

Her whimper had awoken me, and for a scant second, I’d watched her, heard her. Felt her response.

Then I stopped her. I had no choice. Even as the sound revolted me, I wanted to see more. Wanted toknowmore.

The thought of the taste of her on my tongue is enough to make me salivate. It’s been so long since I did anything remotely sexual that I can’t even remember when it was?—

“What happened with your bully that made everything change?”

The words are jarring, but I confess simply to know how she’ll react: “I killed him.”

She stills. “You did? Did you…”

“No. I didn’t go to prison. I earned myself a suspended sentence and had a mountain of community service until I was eighteen, when my parents had my record expunged. It was too late, though. I’d met the priest who changed my life during my punishment.”

“Where did you meet?”

“His name was Father Blanc. I had to work at his soup kitchen. After my community service was over, I remained a volunteer.”

For the first time in my life, I had a calling. One that wasn’t a self-insert from either of my parents—be a doctor, go into medicine… Be a farmer, till the land…

I listened to them until I simply closed my ears to their requests and did what I needed forme—left med school and took the first steps to a life in the Church.

Looking back, I should have stuck to the path I was on. God help me.

“I’ve lost you again.”

There’s a sadness in her tone that has me blinking, even as I register that she’s closer than she was. That her warmth whispers against me like her words do.

“I’m here,” I disagree, then I utter disturbingly true words: “I’m found.”

In her eyes.

“I’ve never known anyone as lost as you, Savio.” She squeezes my wrist. “But I see you, and I want to make things better.”

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