6. Declan
DECLAN
This is my chance. I’m going to talk to him.
I’m nervous. What if he recognizes my voice? I didn’t forget his. I haven’t forgotten a single thing about him. Not his taste, not his sounds, not the way his eyes followed my every move.
Yes, I’ve heard his voice recently. I stalk him quite often. Since he’s now local, I have made it a purpose to check on him daily.
Some days it’s watching him gardening the grounds around the church.
On Sundays I listen to him during Mass. My favorite, though, is when his day is over and he goes for evening strolls.
Just the other day he walked by the alley.
Our alley. He stopped and stared down it, almost like he was expecting me to pop out of the shadows.
It seems he hasn’t forgotten that night either. My memory of that perfect evening brings me such joy, but I don’t know his feelings, which is why I’m nervous.
He could have thought of it as rape. Sure, I technically forced his dick in my mouth with a carefully placed knife and a twist of my words.
He could have done the right thing. He could have called the police the second he got home.
But he didn’t. Almost as if he didn’t want to betray me.
Logically I know that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I’d made him an unofficial accomplice by wiping my bloody blade off on his jeans and smearing that bastard’s blood on him.
I did it to hopefully prevent my sweet Aingeal from getting any potential diseases Bianchi may have had, but he didn’t know that.
Ewen, even before I learned about who he was as a man, had a pureness to him. It was like an aura or some shit. It makes sense that he became a priest. He was a fallen angel.
I know we will never be anything. I’m a Reaper. I take lives, and I won’t stop. What I do is for life. My duty to my family will always stand.
He is the light to my dark. Right from wrong. We are opposites in every way possible. That’s why, after all these years, I stay close—but from a distance. He doesn’t need me nor do I need him.
It’s why I’m standing in front of this confessional, ready to speak to him. My brain thinks that with just one more hit I’ll be able to finally walk away. That having him talk to me will be what I need so I can stop being his shadow.
The handle to the small door is chilly against my sweaty palm. The inside of the confessional is only meant for a single person. Thankfully the seat is padded. The wooden pews make my ass numb, but I gladly put up with it to watch Ewen.
I clear my throat, partly to let him know I’m here but also because it seems to have tightened up. I’m not a nervous person. It’s impossible with what I do. But, for some reason, the act of talking to him has me on edge, like there’re butterflies in my chest.
The little door between us slides open, and I can make out his silhouette.
Fuck, he’s perfect.
I make the sign of the cross. I used to come to confession as a teen until I started in the family business.
After that, I never came back. What was the point?
I didn’t believe in God, or the notion that talking to a priest would absolve me of my sins.
But for a chance to talk directly to Ewen, I will confess. I’ll tell him all my sins.
“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been years since my last confession,” I tell him. “I have taken a man’s life this week.”
A scumbag of a man. He was a wannabe pimp, trying to come into our area and hurt the girls who work the streets. I’ll never judge what someone has to do to survive, but I won’t stand for someone smacking around a woman either.
“That is a mortal sin. One of the ten commandments—Thou shall not kill. Why did you do it?”
“Honestly, Father, I’ve taken many lives. And I will continue to do so.”
A thump from his side tells me he dropped something. Probably his Bible. I guess my confession shocked him. Good, let him be scared of me.
“It’s not okay to take lives. Everyone should be allowed to die when it’s their time and be embraced by God’s waiting arms.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s trying to refrain from telling me his true thoughts.
I tsk. “Oh no, every life I’ve taken has entirely deserved it. They weren’t destined for Heaven. They were sinners worse than me.”
“But they could have been absolved of those sins. Brought back to the faith.” He turns toward the screen between us, maybe trying to make out my face or profile.
I wore a hoodie with the hood up for this exact reason.
I’m not ready for him to see me. “What you did was take the choice away from them. Now they will never have a chance to fully be at peace.”
“Exactly. I don’t want them at peace. They deserved it.”
Silence falls between us. I probably blew his mind with just a few words.
“Tell me Father, what would you have done if an abused woman came to you and told you her pimp was not only beating on her but was also raping her twelve-year-old daughter? And when she went to the police to report it, they didn’t care.
They judged her for her life choices and did nothing because they saw her as a lesser human.
Would your God not want someone to protect her and her child? ”
“He has a plan in life for all of us. Unfortunately, not every story is a good one. Rape is a sin. Just like what you have done. I personally would try to help. I could never sit by, knowing an innocent was being hurt.”
“And that’s why I did it. I ended that bastard’s life. I saved that little girl from a monster. Yes, I know it’s a crime and a sin, but I don’t feel bad for doing it.”
“Have you thought of turning yourself in?”
It takes everything in me to not laugh. I will never do that. “Yeah, not happening. I won’t give up my life for dirtbags.”
“Then why are you telling me this?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
I can’t tell him it’s because I want to talk to him. To hear his voice. For his words to be directed toward only me. That he is my obsession and has been for the past six years.
“I want my sins erased. I want to be a better man.” Lies, but he doesn’t need to know that.
The little light on his side shows he’s rubbing his rosary. I can also hear the faint sound of them grinding into each other. Probably praying for guidance. But God can’t give the answers when the Devil is here.
“Then let us pray. Give God your penance. Allow me to be His ears and absolve your sins,” he says, clearly trying to do what he’s trained for. I want to know his true thoughts, though. Does he really believe that God will save everyone?
Being raised Catholic, I know the prayer.
I haven’t said it outside of CCD as a kid, but I’ll say it now.
For him. To put his mind at ease. But I know they’re just words.
Nothing more. They won’t remove what I’ve done or stop me from doing it again.
Because I will. I will end more lives. I will protect my family, the organization, and I’ll protect him without his knowledge.
“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. In his name, my God, have mercy.”
He didn’t repeat the prayer out loud with me, but I could see his lips moving, reciting the same prayer.
“Thank you my son for allowing me to be here to hear and remove your sins. God will accept you and absolve you of your sins. Amen. How about you say the Our Father prayer, followed by five Hail Mary’s”
Fuck! This isn’t what I wanted when I came here. I wanted to have a fun, witty conversation. Clearly admitting to murder in a confession booth wasn’t the right way to go about that.
Before I can hear what else he has to say I bolt from the confessional.
I don’t know if it’s the prayer or the fact that Ewen suggested I turn myself in, but my emotions are heightened.
Maybe it was everything. Other than Ciaran and Shamus, I’ve never talked about my real profession.
Even Fiona doesn’t know the full extent.
I’m confused. I need to get away from Ewen and this church. I need to smoke before I do something stupid. Like rushing back in there and taking him.