Chapter 73
Seventy-Three
SEBA
Each footstep booms off the marble floor, wooden rafters and empty pews of the chapel, lit only by candles and moonlight spilling through the stained glass windows.
Dank, stagnant air reeks of incense and mildew, filling the space like a balloon inflated within the confines of a tightly sealed box.
Pressurized with foreboding. Weighted with anticipation.
I used to think the heaviness here meant God was present.
Watching. Listening even to my private thoughts.
Now, as I stand in the place I once believed held all the answers, I’m reminded how naive I was.
How brainwashed. And it dredges up so much…
sadness. For the lost young man desperate for guidance.
The fatherless son searching for security and validation.
The innocent teenager terrified to accept his sexuality.
He wanted a reason— someone to blame for the bad things because it’s too depressing to think some people are just unlucky and sometimes life is just unfair.
The allure of religion isn’t lost on me.
It’s easier to believe.
I don’t regret having faith. It shaped me into the man I am today.
But I’ve expanded my mind. And while there are still so many inexplicable things about our world, I no longer attribute them to one almighty being in the sky, lording over my every move.
God may exist. He may not. No one has concrete evidence either way, but what I do know is I’d rather not spend my short time on earth serving anyone other than the two people I love most.
Once I reach the altar, I drop to one knee and make the sign of the cross— our signal.
“A model disciple for such a sinner.”
When I start to rise, something ice cold and metal presses against the back of my skull.
A click.
Breathe. Don’t move. Just breathe.
“It’s such a shame. Such a shame.” Sinclair tuts, grinding the barrel of the revolver into my scalp.
“For our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, died for our sins. And you squandered that sacrifice. Yes, you repented, but repenting wasn’t enough.
Our Lord, God, can forgive many a sin, many a sin, but the penance for yours, it seems, are too great.
And it really is a shame, son, such a shame because you had so much potential.
But I do not question our Lord, see, that’s not my place.
And as Jesus, Lamb of God, died for our sins, you, son, must die for yours.
And as Abraham was challenged by God, I, too, am challenged to make this terrible sacrifice.
It’ll be a burden, yes, committing this sin, but it’s a burden I’ve been trusted by Him to carry. ”
I’m constrained in a web of invisible wire, cranking tighter, slicing through my flesh, carving me to the bone. Tears sting my eyes. Madness. This is utter fucking madness.
“Do you really believe all that?” I croak. “Or do you just need someone to take the fall for your crimes?”
White-hot pain explodes through my temple, the momentum sending me crashing to the unforgiving stone. He’s hit me before— with fists, with goblets, even a chair once, but never this hard. Black blankets my vision. Static blares in my ears.
Did he shoot me?
Heat leaks down the side of my face.
Am I dying?
I’m still breathing.
A shoe slams between my shoulder blades, flattening me to the floor. I grunt, humid breath fogging the polished marble.
“How dare you question my faith in His house?” Kick. “Where he ordained me.” Whack. “I see now.” Kick. “He knows your true nature.” Whack. Kick. “This— this is why I've been charged with such a task.”
Cold metal to my throbbing temple.
Footsteps— two sets. Horror pours concrete over my limbs.
Cade. Andrea.
I can’t die.
He’s already watched a bullet take his mother.
Her father is the one holding the gun.
What have I done by coming here?
What have I done?
A scream. My name. His voice.
I choke. “Don't look, baby.”
Another click.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
It wasn't enough time… but at least I got to tell them I love them.
“Put. The gun. Down.”
My head weighs a thousand pounds. Blinking away blurry red tint…
My.
Fucking.
Girl.