6. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Roman
A s I help her out of the car, she seems lost, her cheeks flushed with the remnants of the sinful pleasure we just shared. The memory of my fingers relentlessly moving inside her, the way her body responded despite her futile attempts to resist, is still fresh. Recalling each time I pushed deeper, seeing her eyes rolled back, her gasps brushing against my face, sends a shiver down my spine. The tension in my pants is undeniable, driven by a feral need to bring her pleasure—a need so overwhelming that no amount of repentance could ever erase it.
Seeing her in the middle of the road, so vulnerable and broken, staggering toward my car like that, her arms covered in those cuts... and those nail marks –brought me nothing but rage.
A rage I thought I had successfully suffocated long ago.
I'm no idiot.
The marks on her side tell a story of a fight she barely survived.
She masks the pain of what happened well, maintaining a detached exterior while retreating into the chaos of her mind, shutting everyone out.
As she steps out, her legs trembling, she holds onto me for support. The moment her flushed cheeks and plump lips purse into a scowl, I feel the blood rushing back between my legs. Her nervous gaze meets mine, and I can't help but imagine how she’d look with my hand wrapped around her throat, those pretty lips gasping for air –
"I c-can't go in there like this," She stutters, clearly still affected by what happened between us in the car.
The moment she touched the bulge of my cock above my pants, the line we’d crossed struck me like a frosty splash, and clarity washed over me. I’d broken the principles I vowed to uphold during seminary. This girl is a test from God, challenging me to see if the demons I thought I’d buried still linger. She ignites a fire in me, one I thought had long since burned out. As I look at her now, I see the sweet innocence others have already sought to exploit, their selfish desires threatening to consume her.
"My arms," She continues, "If my dad sees the cuts, he’ll kill me."
From the brief interaction I had with David Faulkner earlier today, I know she’s not exaggerating.
You’d think most parents would be able to uphold the virtue of empathy when seeing how mangled she is, drawing obvious conclusions as to why she’d ended up like that. But I guess the Faulkners weren’t all that observant or just didn’t give a fuck .
I remove my flannel and drape it over her shoulders, guiding her arms through the sleeves. As I do, I can't help but linger on the sight of her perfect breasts visible through the sheer fabric of her top. The thought of her hands tugging at my hair while I explore her further tempts me intensely. I wonder how much longer I can endure this frustration before giving in to my desires. I notice her scent clinging to my fingers as I button up the front of my shirt, making the urge to touch myself with that same hand later overwhelmingly enticing.
"I'll walk you to your door-"
"No," She yelps, shaking her head frantically. "Aiden has no doubt spun them a story-"
"I'm sure your parents would prefer the truth from their priest over whatever story your pothead of a brother has come up with," I snap, her eyes squinting at the sudden reminder of my title.
A priest is what I am to this girl.
"Priest," She scoffs. "I thought the general cup of tea for priests was blowjobs from young boys behind closed doors?" She jokes, the stereotype one I find abhorrent but sadly true for some within the church.
Touching a child that way is not just sinful. It’s demonic.
There are few things I would risk going the Hell for, but killing child abusers might be one of them. I’d never repent for something like that.
"Not my thing," I smirk.
"So what is your thing, then? Finding impressionable young women, doing as you please with them?" She questions, digging for something else .
She wants to know if she’s the only one I've allowed this to happen with.
Leaning in closer, I whisper, "Eden, if you're wondering how often I've let this happen, you might be surprised to learn I've always resisted the lure of touching a woman." My voice softens as I add, "So you can imagine my astonishment, finding your taste lingering on my tongue at this very moment. It's just as surprising for me as it is for you."
Her cheeks grow red, and I see her confidence to push me further drop. I’m not sure if she’s satisfied with my answer, but there’s no reason to be anything but truthful with her. She seems to accept what I've said for now as she turns her head toward the front door of her house.
"Well, it won't happen again," She snaps, a lick of anger rolling through me at the idea of this being a one-time instance.
She's right.
I can't allow it to happen again.
"Can we just get this over with?" She questions, clearly exhausted.
Nodding, I allow her to pass, letting her lead the way. I bury my hands in my pockets, readjusting my dick as we walk forward, my erection refusing to be ignored.
Up until this point, I’d been so consumed by Eden that I hadn’t really taken in the house in front of me. It's a towering symbol of wealth. The white exterior gleams under the accent light; massive windows with dark shutters and an imposing black front door give it an air of controlled perfection. The wrap-around porch, with tall columns and immaculate steps leading up to the front door, exudes an unsettling calm. A large second-floor balcony with French doors overlooks the pristine, emerald lawn, dotted with regal shrubs and trees. Everything here is meticulously crafted to project an image, but the silence around it hints at something darker beneath the surface.
As we walk up the steps to the front porch, I have to stop myself from touching her lower back. Her hand shakes as she reaches up to ring the doorbell.
Shouts escalate from inside the house, and Eden flinches at the sound of what I can only assume is her father’s voice. His exact words are muffled, but the force behind them is unmistakable—a booming, thunderous sound that reverberates off the walls, making the air feel tense and heavy.
The door swings open, and the rage plastered across her father’s face is palpable. He shifts his expression the second he notices me behind Eden.
Creeping up behind her husband, Morgan looks relieved. My eyes gravitate to the staircase behind them where Aiden sits. We lock eyes before he bows his head, shame leeching the color from his face.
"Eden," David sighs, pretending as if he wasn’t about to scream at her. Stepping through the door and onto the porch, he pulls her into an embrace. Her hands barely touch his sides as she stands there, stiff and unemotional. "Father Briar?" He gently nudges Eden over to her mother. "Is everything okay?"
"No, I don't think so, David," I sigh, looking toward Aiden again. "You think you can get your boy to come over here for a second?"
"Aiden?" Morgan questions, her voice scratchy as if she’d been crying. "He's been worried sick about his sister-"
"It's fine, Mom," Aiden snaps, making his way to the front door.
"Eden, what the hell happened?" David asks. Aiden looks at his sister, a warning in the way he glares at her from the doorway.
Shameful but amusing, urging her to lie in the presence of a priest.
He’s got balls.
"I can answer that," I smile, Aiden's hands already shaking.
"No need, Father Briar. Thank you for bringing her home-"
"She drove your boy and his friends to a lookout spot at their request. It would seem Aiden and his companions wanted to get high. Then they left Eden up there in the middle of a rainstorm. I went to explore the area after you’d mentioned it during our conversation after Mass. Imagine my surprise when I found your daughter staggering down the muddy road soaking wet, with no phone and no car."
Looking toward the driveway, I see her muddied Kia.
"I’d struggle to get home too if my brother allowed his friends to steal my car and go on a joy ride."
Snapping his mouth shut, David looks at his daughter, his eyes wide.
"Is that true, Eden?" She nods slowly, and Aiden begins to shift his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Morgan’s hand goes over her mouth to hide the shock.
David inhales a sharp breath, touching his belt. I watch as both Aiden and Eden flinch. Anger boils the blood beneath my skin at what I see, imagining the very limited list of things that could illicit such a response from them. My nails dig into my palms through clenched fists as I do my best to stay focused on the current situation.
David turns to Aiden, his hand moving swiftly, the sound of the slap sharp and jarring as it makes contact with skin. The boy stumbles back into the house from the doorway. As he steadies himself, he turns back to face us, spitting blood onto the porch. His bottom lip is split open, and a red mark is starting to form on his cheek.
A part of me is gratified seeing Aiden punished, making it harder to control the smile that threatens to make its way across my face.
"Morgan, take Eden inside and get her cleaned up. Her bother will be in to apologize to her once we’re done talking," David hisses. "Father Briar?" He questions. "Do you have time for an at-home confession?"
Glancing at the porch furniture, I eye two chairs.
"Absolutely."
Aiden makes his way over to the chairs I'd spotted earlier, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumps his body down into the cushion. His eyes are red and puffy, his jaw taut with irritation. I sit down next to him, aware that David lingers just inside and is probably watching and listening.
"Listen, I didn't do anything, it was all Zack's idea- "
The need to strangle him with my bare hands flares to life. The thought of him gasping for air excites me more than it should. Something primal influencing my desire for retribution.
"Tell me, why do you hate your sister so much?"
I saw the look on her face in the headlights of my car.
Aiden allowed his friends to hurt her.
He dared them to.
"I don't hate my sister," Aiden says, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "I don't hate Eden."
"Then why allow your friends to do what they did? Why participate in a bet like that at all?"
The little prick narrows his eyes at me and scoffs.
"She wasn't wearing that flannel when we left her, Father. You saw the cuts, too. You and I both know how the Church feels about the act of self-harm. It goes against the fundamental belief in the sanctity and dignity of human life. She should be ashamed of herself.”
"And allowing your sister to be harmed by others is any better?"
Aiden goes still, his lips pressed thinly together. The look on his face tells me he’s lost to some memory. I can’t help but think of David and the way Aiden and Eden had flinched as he reached for his belt.
"What sins do you wish to unburden yourself of tonight?"
"I don't expect you to understand me or my family. The way they treat Eden now, the way they resent her, was how I lived my whole life before she went to college. She was their golden child. A true child of the Lord. So you can look at me like that, pretending like you haven't already judged me, but I promise you, what I did to Eden was light work in comparison to what my punishments were growing up," He whispers, purposefully keeping his voice down. "I don’t resent my sister for what she’s done to herself. I resent her for coming home and throwing me back into Hell, which is exactly what this situation is. Sure, they act like I’m their new favorite, but that doesn't mean the punishments go away. Every time she’s around, it only gets worse. And wanna know the best part? She has no fucking idea how bad it gets because he always left her alone."
"Left her alone?" I question. "He hit you both," I assume, Aiden's head slowly nodding.
"Yeah, he did, still does-"
I stay silent for a moment, quieting the rage that’s currently urging me to rip David’s arms from his body.
"His punishments for me were always hands-on."
"Aiden," David snaps, tapping his foot impatiently from the doorway, watching his son with a threat beneath his gaze.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Father Briar, but dinner is ready. Is he free to go for now? Has he received his prayers?"
As I glance back to Aiden, he swallows harshly, and I see a deep-rooted fear etched into his taut face.
"Nearly," I smile. "Give us five?"
David nods and moves back inside the house.
"I suppose my greatest sin is hoping she’d screw up big enough and he’d turn his attention to her for once," Aiden says, his selfish need to be free of his father obscuring his ability to see just how fucked up his strategy for freedom was. "Now, I've only made it worse for both of us," He sighs, getting up to go inside.
Grabbing his hand, I stop him before David can see .
"Is your father... hurting you now, Aiden?"
"Does it matter? Father Kevin helped him unburden himself of his sins regularly, so all’s forgiven, right? He gets to meet God, regardless."
I stand in his way, blocking him from moving closer to the front door.
"Has he touched you?" I push, his eyes narrowing at me.
Has he touched Eden?
"Have a good night, Father Briar."
Nudging past me, he slips inside the house, his head lowered as he passes his father. Watching her brother, Eden looks petrified, her eyes shifting from Aiden to me, before landing on her father who’d made his way outside to me.
As he walks closer, I see him in an entirely new light. His existence to me is a cruel mockery of God’s goodwill. His nature is corrupted and deeply entwined with the malevolence of Satan’s influence. Something dark and thick, like tar, lodges in my throat when I look at him.
"I'm sorry my kids dragged you out here, Father Briar," David says, almost playfully as if bemused.
How many times have you touched Aiden?
Have you touched Eden?
Why hasn’t Aiden told anyone?
How could Father Kevin allow such sins without contacting authorities?
Or killing the man himself.
"No bother, it seems to have been a misunderstanding-"
"Regardless, I will see to it Aiden recites his prayers and is properly punished. ”
My blood runs cold.
"I don't think punishment is necessary-"
"Nonsense. It’s my duty as a father to remind them that actions have consequences. He committed a grave sin, and it pains me deeply to see either of them stray from the path God has set for them. I won’t let this go without consequence. He’ll face punishment, not just from me, but more importantly, he should seek forgiveness from God through confession and penance. Only by truly repenting can they begin to make amends and return to God’s grace.”
"You plan on delivering Eden a punishment as well?"
"All in good time," He sighs. "I thought she had outgrown the need for me to discipline her, but it would seem the Devil has found his way back into her life-"
Taking a step closer, I get in the man's face, my nose inches away from his as I look down several inches at him. Throwing on a false smile, I pat the front of his shirt.
"God is always watching, David," I whisper. "I am always watching, too." Pulling my lips to his ear, I don't hold my tongue. "I've always felt the need to offer punishment to the sinners who need extra motivation to return to God’s path, be that mothers or fathers, sons or daughters. I’m not sure what your brand of punishment is but," I push, theorizing this man is a glorified fucking pedophile. "You can deal with Eden by your own hand, or you could allow me the opportunity to give her some new insight," I smile, watching something shift in his expression.
"So, you saw the list?" He questions, a devilish grin spanning across his face. "I wondered if Kevin had invited another enthusiast into the church. It would seem he has. "
I draw a blank, knowing the altar servers’ signup sheet isn’t the list he’s referring to. My intuition wrenched a tightness in my chest as he grinned.
"Of course," I smile, doing my best to be agreeable, despite having no idea what this fucking means.
"Quite the lineup this year," He smiles. "Tell you what, you can do as you please with her. Punishments are all yours," He smiles. "My son, however, is off limits."
My stomach twists at his words. Reaching my hand out, I smile at the man.
"Let her feel God’s wrath, Father.”
Holding onto the man's hand, I stop him from retreating inside.
"And what about the list? Where can I get clarity on my role in all of this?" I question.
Patting me on the shoulder, the man looks gleeful.
"I thought Kevin would’ve told you everything?”
"He did, mostly," I lie. "It's been a long day."
The last thing I need is David discovering I’m not part of his inner circle. I need to know what’s going on here.
I fear David Faulkner's position in the church is far more influential than anything I could’ve imagined.
"I should get inside. You have a blessed night, Father."
Watching him slip inside, I remain standing on the porch as I try to unravel the sticky web of details that are far too vague for me to untangle.
I’d been accepted into the church, taking an oath to serve under God.
But what was Father Kevin's role in all of this?
Why did the man really leave?
What does that mean for my role in all of this?
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet Eden’s gaze through the window before she bows her head as her father takes a seat at the table.
One thing’s for sure.
David Faulkner will be hauled off in a body bag if he ever lays a hand on her again.