Fallen Halo
TW: This story includes mature sexual content and explores religious and ethical boundaries that may be sensitive for some readers.
FATHER NICHOLAS
Isit up a little straighter as I hear another churchgoer slip into the confession booth and whisper something under her breath.
“Come now, child, speak your burden to me. The Lord listens through my ears,” I say softly and adjust my collar, a little nervous. Today has been very intense, the confessions are becoming darker by the day, and I’m truly struggling to remain calm.
“Is it… a sin of the flesh?” I ask to encourage her.
“Forgive me Father, I have sinned,” she chokes out. “I’ve committed an unforgivable sin.”
I close my eyes and cross my chest, hoping she won’t confess what I have a feeling she might. “You may speak freely, child,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice steady.
“I’ve taken a life, father,” she whispers, voice trembling as she’s trying to force the words past her lips.
“I didn’t mean to. I was so scared, but I swear, I didn’t mean to.
Elliot… he broke into my house… held a knife to my throat and threatened to…
do things to me.” She lists off frantically before the confession booth fills with the sound of her sobs.
I feel my face pale and hands start to tremble. I know who she’s talking about.
I know that man, know that monster better than I have business to know him.
It’s true that people say there’s good and evil—my own family is a bright example of the saying. While I chose the holy way of living, my brother, the very man she’s describing, chose hell.
This is not the first time he’s committed the same crime—her retelling is the perfect representation of his approach, and while I’m ashamed to admit I’m glad there’s one less monster walking this Earth, I can’t deny that I’m also deeply hurt. He was my blood.
As I listen to her sobs, I take a deep breath to calm myself, close my eyes and count to ten. Then, I slide the screen aside and turn to look at her. “Child, look at me,” I whisper softly.
Her eyes remain cast downward, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she chokes out weakly, “Please. I’m scared, I don’t want to go to prison. I never meant to—”
“Shh, child,” I whisper to interrupt the frantic rambling. “You’re safe here. God doesn’t count self-defence as a sin. You protected yourself, and that is righteous in his eyes.”
Slowly, I reach my hand towards her, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wants to. But instead, she grabs my hand and presses her lips to my knuckles, shoulders still shaking.
I take a good look at her and realize the woman confessing to killing my brother is Abby. A tiny little thing, barely over twenty years old, quiet, kind and has no one to take care of her—a perfect victim for monsters as my own brother.
Abby sits silently, lips still pressed to my knuckles as if this helps her rid her conscience of the burden. The longer I look at her, the more I notice. Abby is very beautiful, far too beautiful to be left alone and unprotected.
My eyes, against my will, scan her body and suddenly, it’s like my mind refuses to acknowledge that I’m a servant of God, not a man who’s too weak to fight his desires.
If I wasn’t me, if I didn’t choose the life I’ve chosen, I’d burn the world for a woman like Abby. I swallow loudly as another unexpected realization hits me—I’d sin for Abby.
Shaking my head to get rid of the impure thoughts, I clear my throat and focus on the issue at hand. “Did he… touch you?”
Abby pulls away from my hand, her eyes widen as she shakes her head. “He tried to, but he never got a chance. I fought, Father.”
My jaw tenses at the very thought of my brother’s hands on her. A wave of unexpected, unwanted, possessive rage surges through me—it’s so sudden and intense that it scares me.
“You fought him off,” I whisper, more to myself than Abby. “Good girl.”
My mind is filling with images of what might have happened to this pure woman if she hadn’t defended herself and escaped my brother.
“I don’t know what to do, don’t know where to go,” Abby whispers, pulling me out of my thoughts. “God might forgive me, but the law won’t. They’re probably already looking for me.”
I can see the innocence in those big eyes, the fear that keeps her locked up and in this very moment, I make a split-second decision.
A sinful decision that might cost me.
Leaning closer, I drop my voice to a whisper, “Listen carefully, child, you’re not going to prison. You’re coming with me.”
Abby looks up, her eyes wide as they meet mine, her bottom lip trembling. “Where?”
“My private rooms,” I answer before I can fully consider if I’m making the right decision. “You’ll stay with me in this church until this blows over. I’ll protect you, the Lord put you in my path for a reason.”
Deep down, I know I’m lying to myself. I don’t want to protect Abby for God.
“Really?” She asks, shocked and clearly relieved as she wipes the remaining tears off her cheeks.
I nod and stand before I speak. “You have my word as a man of God. Now, follow me, let’s get you out of here before someone notices you.”
I open the door to the booth and step out, Abby’s quick to follow me. My eyes scan the area, and once I make sure no one is there, I guide Abby to the hall that leads to my private rooms.
We walk hurriedly through the empty area of the church, but my heart pounds in my chest so loud, it almost feels like she can hear it. Once we get to the large doors leading to my living area, I unlock the heavy doors and push them open, ushering her inside and quickly closing the door behind us.
“You’re safe here,” I promise her and turn around to face her.
Tension instantly releases its hold on Abby’s shoulders and she exhales a heavy breath of relief.
I can’t look away. My attention is fully captured by her chest as it rises and falls with every breath she takes.
I feel myself harden as my mind reminds me that we’re alone here—no one knows Abby is here, no one would see or hear a thing, no one could blame me if I gave into the temptation and chose sin.
No. I can’t think such thoughts. I stand in God’s temple; he’d see, he’d witness it. Turning my head to look away, I clear my throat and ask, “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No, I’m not,” Abby answers, and a wave of relief instantly washes over me.
I nod and keep my eyes off her because her presence is truly testing my ability to resist. “We should get you cleaned up first. You’re covered in sweat and… other things,” I gesture towards the door of the bathroom. “You can take a shower, and I’ll find some clean clothes for you.”
Abby rushes to me, grabs my hand, and squeezes it, then whispers, “Thank you,” before she lets go of me and slips into the bathroom.
I watch her go and, for a moment, wonder why I’m not losing my mind. This young woman just confessed to me about my brother’s murder, yet I don’t feel a thing? How is that possible? Could it be that listening to confessions over the years has hardened me so much I can’t be moved anymore?
Or maybe, it’s about time I admit I don’t feel sorry for his passing, regardless of how he died. Elliot was my brother, yes, but he also was a very, very evil man.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and process the sudden escalation of this mess.
I’m alone with a beautiful woman.
A woman who killed my brother.
A woman who can destroy my life if she wants to.
I start pacing the length of the room, my mind racing as I hear the shower turn on. I can imagine her standing under the hot water, her perfect body on display. It feels like I’m stuck in a trance as my hands work to unbutton my shirt.
I’m a good man, I remind myself, a Godly man.
Slowly, I slip off the shirt and approach the bathroom door, gripping it in my hand. I’m just going to check on her, make sure she’s okay, and doesn’t need anything.
Before I can stop myself, I knock on the bathroom door.
“Yes?”Abby calls over the sound of the running water.
I push at the door slowly, my heart pounding in my chest as I step into the bathroom.
I can see the outline of her body behind the stained glass of the shower stall, and my throat goes completely dry.
Gripping my shirt in my hand, I manage to force out an excuse, “I… I brought you some clean clothes.”
“Thank you!” She calls out.
I nod, even though she can’t see me, and my eyes roam over the outline of her body against my will. I swallow hard, trying to control myself. I’m a man of God, damn it!
Desperately needing to get away before I do something I might regret, I toss my shirt onto the sink and walk out of the bathroom.
As I sit on my bed, I hide my face behind my hands and let out almost a pained groan. I’ve never wanted a woman like this before.
Eventually, the bathroom door opens and Abby steps out, wearing nothing but the shirt I left on the sink, and the very knowledge that it’s my shirt that she’s wearing is doing things to me.
Abby stands by the bathroom door for a long moment until I clear my throat and tap the bed next to me. “Come, sit down.”
She smiles and approaches me. I can’t, for the life of me, understand how she looks so innocent and pure even after she committed a deadly sin.
The moment she sits down, Abby’s stomach rumbles, and I quietly curse myself for not asking if she’s hungry at all. I’m not one to invite guests; clearly, the church is not meant to be a place of social gatherings and casual catch-ups.
Grasping at straws, I make her a sandwich and leave her in the room to eat while I do the last rounds in the church and lock it up. By the time I return to the room, Abby is already asleep in my bed.
I want nothing more than to slip under the covers and sleep next to her, but I remind myself that I can’t. I am a man of God, she is not my wife, and I have no business enjoying closeness with a woman I haven’t married in the eyes of God.