Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
But the only thing I’ve managed to find is this church.
I stare up at the brick building and compare it to the church that Alex described. It does not look the same, but I can read the words and they clearly say it’s a church. Something inside of me tells me to keep going.
But I’ve no choice.
My body is too weak to fight anymore. I’m filled with feelings I don’t understand. I crawl up the steps and collapse near the door. I try to raise my fist to knock, or call out, but I cannot even manage that.
My head lolls back against the cold stone beneath me, and blackness takes over.
***
The priest is quiet as he sits across from me, examining me. He does not dress like the men at the compound. He does not look like a soldier. I’ve been here for weeks now. He’s given me a bed, and warm meals, and has not pushed me to talk. He’s been kind to me.
When he first asked me questions, I couldn’t bring myself to answer him. My shame was too great. But I feel like I’m ready to speak now. And I think that maybe he can help me after all. I scratch at a worn line in the wooden table and open my lips for the first time since I left the compound. My voice sounds strange to my own ears when it leaves my throat.
“I’ve done something bad,” I tell the priest. “And I know I must pay for it.”
He is quiet for a long pause, and when I look up at him, he does not seem surprised by my confession. He’s watching me closely, the same way Farrell used to do sometimes. It makes me uncomfortable again, but I don’t let onto it.
“Tell me what you have done,” he says.
I tell him. I tell him everything. Every awful thought I’ve ever had. I speak of the compound and the soldiers and my training. How I’ve come to enjoy the pain that was meant to provide punishment. How I don’t understand my own thoughts at times, and my mind so often betrays me.
I admit that I took Farrell’s life, even though he was my superior. We aren’t supposed to kill our superiors. But I enjoyed it. I liked the way his blood painted the floor when I was finished. I speak of my confusion. Because I am a killer, and that was all I was ever meant to be. So maybe I’m not wrong. But I feel I should be punished for what I did to Farrell, and the priest agrees.
“Aye, lad. There is punishment for sins such as these. Severe punishment. There is only one way that you can save your soul now.”
I blink up at him and listen carefully. I don’t know what a soul is, but it sounds serious. I want him to help me, and I believe he can. That’s what Alex told me. These places help people.
“Anything,” I tell him. “Tell me what I must do. I am ready.”
“It will be uncomfortable,” he says. “You will not like it. I will not enjoy doing it either. But I must. In order to save your soul.”
“I am ready,” I tell him again. “I am ready for you to show me.”
The priest has a grim expression on his face when he leads me to the back. It reminds me of the compound. Of Farrell. He was always looking at me. Watching me. It made me uneasy, the same way the priest is looking at me now.
“Pull down your trousers, lad,” he says.
I recall my punishments at the compound. How Coyne and Farrell would take my clothes and use the cattle prod before they sprayed me with cold water. I didn’t like being naked, but I got used to it. I think that maybe the priest is going to do the same.
I remove my trousers and cup my groin.
The priest frowns and then points at the bed. I sit down and look around the room. I don’t see what he’s going to hurt me with, and when he sits down beside me too, I’m even more confused. He pulls up his robes and then undoes his trousers too.
I swallow and try to look away.
“I told ye you might not enjoy it,” he says. “But that is how punishment works, aye?”
That is how punishment works, but when he reaches for my arm, my stomach churns. He grabs my hand and pulls it away from my groin. And then he’s touching me. I curl into myself and scramble back against the wall.
“I don’t like that.”
He grabs my leg and tries to pull me back, and when he stands up he has an erection. Vomit rises up my throat and then rage. His hand rubs between my legs, and I can’t control the rage. I buck against him and throw my head into his.