CHAPTER ONE

“FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I have sinned,” the small voice from the other side of the screen confided. I can just make out her shadow as she completes the sign of the cross. “Today marks the fifteenth day since my last confession. My last mass was three weeks ago, and I have one sin to atone for.”

“Tell me your troubles, child.” I know it’s fruitless to ask, but it’s expected. Their whole reason for appearing here is to be absolved.

“I had impure thoughts about a woman in my...book club,” she says cautiously.

“Are you lying, child?”

“Father, I’m telling you what I feel comfortable with you knowing.” So, she’s another one of them.

“Continue, child.”

She clears her throat. “You see, we were reading a book about first loves. It was about a woman, and how her best friend was the first to really see her through all her faults. Her problems didn’t matter. Seeing love conquer and repair damages, she came to love the other woman—in the story, that is. Love can be pure in so many ways. Right, Father?”

“Yes, child. I agree that love can be pure of heart, but not sexual in its context, such as love thy brother, love thy sister. What is it, though, that has made you feel impure? Tell me. Tell your God what it is so that you may repent.” Every day, all day, this is the possible outcome of so many lives in our city. These lost souls need our care, and it’s my job to make them whole. They need to feel loved and cherished without reservation or condemnation.

“Well, Father, I’ve never felt that from a man. It made me feel secure and cared for by this woman. She makes me feel like I’m perfect. I know in my heart that God would tell me if this love is wrong. But if love is good in all forms, then why deny me a love if he presents it?”

And there’s the predicament of my position. How can I deny love? How do I tell her that it’s an abomination to love another woman in the way that she does? I do the will of God because it’s right and just. “What you personally feel is different than the scriptures, my dear child. Loving in a chaste way is expected and condoned, but to love her in the way that a man and a woman would is unwell in the eyes of God.”

“But Father, what of the changes under the Pope, the holiest of Fathers on earth? Hasn’t he stated that all love is to be cherished? Why deny me? My confession isn’t in loving her, my confession is this; In loving her, the love for my husband has become secondary. I love him, I do, but I can’t love him as I love her. Do you understand, Father?”

So, it’s not that she loves this woman, it’s that she’s venturing out of her marriage. Well, this one’s cut and dry. “This is an impure allowance under God and his teachings. You must care for your wedding vows. You will work on giving your husband the love and devotion that you imparted when you first married him. You gave your word that his love was the only love, other than that of your God.”

“Yes, Father.” Her voice falls. Seeing her bowing her head in defeat, I wonder…did she really feel that her confession would be seen as a just reason to venture from wedlock and step out of the marriage? These are the situations I deal with, and it pains me. Our parish is in a more volatile area of the city, which brings these creatures of faithlessness to our door often.

“You will repent your sins through your act of contrition. Repeat after me, ‘Heavenly Father, I in good faith will follow the path of your teachings, and in doing so, I will work on being a good person that puts effort into my marriage.’” She quietly repeats what I say, and I continue. “I will no longer have impure thoughts about another, as it is unfair to my vows under God.” She again repeats after me, and in doing so, I hear her voice becoming stronger; more willful.

“You will perform six hail Mary’s and continue to work on your family obligation. I absolve you of your sins. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

“Amen. Thank you, Father.” Rising out of the booth, she closes the door behind her while I relax with another completed parishioner on the right path. Do I analyze every one of these sad souls? Yes. I care for them, not only as their direct link to Christ, but I also feel their pain and sorrow as their priest.

There are days that these burdens weigh heavily on my soul, and that I despair with the inflicted damage on my own psyche. My lord keeps me strong, or as strong as he can. And what I cannot handle, I contain in my own way.

Her love of the woman could be a product of a bad relationship. The dangerous liaison could be nothing more than her looking for love where love hasn’t been found yet. Nervously rubbing the sleeve of my robes, I take a deep breath and blow it out. I’ll deal with the dark thoughts I have about her and the love she has later when I’m alone.

As the door next to me opens and closes again, a man enters. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Garnering my composure to assist another lost soul once more, I situate myself in the confessional to take on their needs. “Tell me how I can help you, son.”

“It’s been six months since my last confession.” His voice is deep and gruff. His voice has a dangerous tone that’s truly recognizable—hardened and callous.

Answering him in a calm manner, I say, “Six months is a long time. How many confessions will we address today?”

The screen doesn’t allow room for me to see his face, but I can see his profile. I know who he is. Bracken Madox, President of the Broken Bows MC. His club runs the south side of the city with an iron will, and even heavier fist. They deal in guns, drugs, and sex trading. He’s a dangerous man.

“Only those I wish you to know, Father.” Bracken and I have history, and I both love and loathe when he visits.

“To absolve you, I would expect nothing more than full honesty, my son.”

He laughs darkly. “How about I give you what I can, Father. The rest is for you to read between the lines. I think my wife is stepping out. Mostly my fault. I think I push her to it.”

Great. The woman that was here is his wife. Just the darkness I needed today. Thank you, Father, for giving me a further trial of piety.

“Knowing if she has stepped out is not yours to confess. Tell me your confession, son.”

“You’re right, Father.” His sinister voice booms off the walls of our tiny enclosure. “My sins are extensive. How long do you have?”

I don’t doubt they are. Lifting the edge of my cassock, I scratch the scars on my wrist. “As long as you need, son.”

“Well, let’s get started then, shall we?” Laying his long legs out in front of him, Bracken crosses his ankles, settling in for a long conversation. “My first sin, of course, has multiple infractions. Sins of the flesh. I love flesh. I’ve partaken in free pussy that would make your robes curl, Father. The taste of that sweet nectar as it glides along your tongue? Mmm, exquisite. The feel of supple tits as they’re pinched, fucked, scarred and sucked? The heavy screams as they ask to be released? Yeah, that’s both dangerous and intoxicating. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you, Kyden? No. You wouldn’t know the feel of a woman’s cunt anymore. You walked away from that.”

Walking isn’t the right, I ran. Slipping away in the middle of the night, I left, never looking back. He knows that every time he explains his sins, the effect is meant to shock. He understands it more than any other could. He knows me. A woman’s touch is not what I need, though I’d love it. The reminder is fresh every moment. Clearing my throat, I try to bring the conversation back to something more suitable for the venue. “Thank you for the honesty, son. You stated multiple sins—”

“Yes, that I did. I’ve been having difficulties expressing my rage. It comes out in fits of destructiveness.” His tone is excited. I can almost see his snarky grin.

“You have released this rage on others, I assume?” Catching my nail on one of the more recent scars, I revel at the pain it elicits.

“Goddamn right I have.”

“We do not take the Father’s name in vain here, son. Please refrain from blaspheme, or I’ll have to ask you to leave without completing your penance.”

“Yes, Priest. I understand the consequences.” Uncrossing his ankles and shifting forward on the seat, Bracken brings his face close to the screen. “I understand perfectly.”

“Good. Continue, please.”

“Well, Father, I’ve unfortunately harmed a few poor souls in my care.”

“Harming others is not permitted. Do unto others as you wish done upon you. Follow the path of God’s will and you will find absolution.”

“I think I’m past the point of absolution. Don’t you, Ky?”

“My name is Father Kyden. Please, use it correctly, son.”

“Yes, Father Kyden. Thank you for the reminder.” His voluminous voice surrounds me, pulling me down that dangerous edge. The reason I became a priest was because of men like him. My darkness envelopes me the same way as his harnesses the truly dangerous parts of him by feeding him, fueling his need for mayhem. “Well, you see, there have been casualties left in my wake. A multitude of corpses. Some I killed with my bare hands, others I had decommissioned by the hands of another, but I was the instrument. Can I be absolved of those sins, Father?”

The itch on my skin is a burning need, a harsh fire of release cresting under the surface. Forcing my hands away and laying them in my lap, I do my best to avoid the need to drive out my inner demons.

Knowing Bracken doesn’t wish to repent is not a part of the confessional, though I do wish it were. There’s no savior that could clear the taint on Bracken’s soul. The devil has held him tight to his bosom for far too long. “I will pray for you, son. Beyond that, it is up to you to repent and see to your own eternal soul. God cannot help you if you do not attempt to atone.”

“Understood. Thank you.” The glee is palpable in his voice. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“Is that the extent of your sins?”

Shaking his head, he looks directly at me. “No, Father. No, no, no, no. I have partaken in one of the worst sins that one can. I’ve tainted one of God’s children that felt they were unattainable.” Scratching his fingers down the screen, popping over the holes one by one, slowly, he peers through and glares at me. “I’ve tainted the soul of a priest. I’ve reminded him of what he’s hiding from, what it is that he covets. What he wishes for. What his darkest desires are.” The darkness of evil is visible in his gaze as he stares through the screen. I feel the inky darkness he talks of, the unwanted caresses that make me shake.

“Who is it that you’ve tainted, son?”

Sitting back hard against the confessional cabinet, it vibrates under his weight. “You, brother. It may not be today, but it will be soon. You’ve hidden for long enough. Come home.” Rising quickly to his feet, he exits the confessional before I can respond.