Chapter Twenty-Six
Ronan
When I spot the church on the hillside in the distance, a weak sound tears from my chest. It must be a sign. A sign that I am to stop running and bear punishment for what I have done. Alex spoke of this place. He told me how much he liked coming to the church. How they would help people. He told me it didn’t matter what you had done, they would help you.
I hope they will help me too.
I’ve been running for days around this countryside. Weak with hunger and sick from drinking out of dirty puddles. I thought I could find someone to help me. That there was a life that still existed beyond the compound, like Alex talked about.
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.
He cries out in pain, but I do not care. I reach for the lamp from the bedside and crash it over his head. He backs away from me, his head bleeding and his eyes wide. He sees now. He sees the monster I am.
He flees towards the front of the church, but my training won’t let him go. Neither will my rage. Alex said this place would help me. I don’t understand. He was supposed to help me.
I chase after him, down the aisles while I shout out the same words.
“You were supposed to help me!”
He tries to leave. But I cannot let him. We are never to let an enemy escape with his life. I throw the lamp at the back of his head. He falls to the ground, and the rage finally consumes me. I cannot control myself any longer. I grasp the lamp in my hands and bring it down over his head.
And I hit him again. And again. And again. Until there is nothing but red.
It feels good.
“You were supposed to help me.”
I repeat those words, until there is nothing left of his face, and my voice is nothing more than a whisper. And then I curl into myself and wish more than anything that I knew what to do.
I don’t know how long I sit there for.
I only know that when I look up again, there is a woman standing over me with a trembling hand clutched over her mouth. Beside her, a boy my age is looking down at the blood around me. His eyes are wide, and his cheeks heated with embarrassment when they land on me.
I glance down at myself and work out that I’m still half naked, covered in blood. I have no explanation to give them. So I say the only thing I can.
“He was supposed to help me.”
***
Sasha is in the kitchen and I’m at the table.
I have a newspaper in my hands, but my eyes are on her. Watching her move around as she cooks. I don’t know what it is, but it smells good. And she keeps feeding the dog -Daisy- little scraps.
I haven’t worked out what to do with her. I can’t stay at the house all the time. But I can’t let her leave. She believed me. She believed my lie so easily that it feels wrong. But when I watch her moving around my home, and smell her scent around me, I cannot be sorry.
She is so beautiful.
She looks over her shoulder and catches me staring. I look away, but before I do, she smiles.
“It’s ready,” she says.
A moment later, she’s pushing a plate in front of me. I stare at it too long, and Sasha looks worried.
“It’s an omelet,” she says. “You like eggs, don’t you?”
“I’ve never had them this way,” I admit.
“Really?” she smiles again. “Well then you won’t be disappointed that it’s only cheese and veggies. You don’t have much in your fridge.”
She sits down and starts to eat, and I bring the plate to my nose and sniff. Her fork clatters onto her plate, and when I glance up, she’s watching me with a strange expression. I tear my eyes away and take a tentative bite.
“I haven’t poisoned you, Ronan,” she laughs. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
I frown, and her face grows serious. “Did you really think I might have poisoned you?”
I don’t like seeing her upset. And I made her that way. So I take a bite. And it’s good. I tell her so, and she relaxes again. I make a note to tell her the food is grand any time she cooks for me.
“I’ll have Conor do some food shopping today,” I tell her. “You can make a list if you’d like.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
We eat in silence, and I finish before her. When I look up at her she seems happy. And I think maybe having her here with me will be okay. But that changes when she asks her next question and reminds me of the things I can never have.
“Tell me about your childhood,” she says softly.
“I lived with Crow,” I answer.
She waits for more, but I don’t know what else to say.
“No, before that.”
I shift in my seat and focus my attention on Daisy, who’s sitting on my foot again. “Why?”
“Because I want to know you, Ronan. Is that okay?”
I don’t answer her. A flood of images come back to me, but I don’t know how to sort them into words. I don’t think I could even if I tried. I’ve tried with Crow. Sometimes I’ve been able to explain things. But even he doesn’t know everything.
Sasha reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I stare at her fingers, observing how small they are against my own. How soft she is compared to my skin. Like silk.
“It’s okay, Ronan,” she says. “You don’t need to tell me right now.”
She takes our plates to the sink and then comes back a moment later.
“Hey, you can get prescriptions, right?”
“Aye,” I answer, relieved that I can actually do something she asks.
She pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket and hands it to me. I don’t recognize the name of what she’s scribbled down, and I worry that something might be wrong with her.
“Can you get me that?” she asks.
I nod, but already I’m making other plans. I don’t want anything happening to Sasha. So I’ll get her a prescription, but I’ll bring her a doctor too.