Bless Me Father

A.N: This is NOT a story for you if: 1. You do not like gore and blood. 2. You are looking for a story that has no plot, just random characters screwing each other for no apparent reason. 3. You are a religious or liberal fanatic who would be offended by the use of religion as a minor theme throughout the story.

This IS a fic for you if: 1. You like very detailed description and imagery. 2. You like frequent theme and/or mood shifts. 3. You like mystery/thriller/crime genre entertainment. 4. You would like to read something with a moral. 5. You honestly just have nothing better to do than to read this, lol.

All characters are property of me. Thank you.
enough said, on with the show!....


“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” I managed to mutter through my clenched teeth. Pain surged through my chilled bones into my aching core. The persistent light that impeded through the crack of the door beside me stung and irritated my watery eyes. I felt my stomach convulse in abhorrence from the blood that had been leaking down the back of my throat, the throat which had constricted until I thought my head would explode. Consciousness was slowing slipping out of my grasp and my vision was receding as I sat, drenched in dirty, city rain, but a calm voice calling to me dragged me back, saving me from a slumber that might have proved eternal.
“How long has it been since your last confession?” the priest soothed from the opposite chamber. I focused on the murky puddles that had formed around my boots for a moment before answering guiltily.
“I have never confessed before, father.” I paused. The behemoth of a gash on my leg was throbbing bitterly without remorse as I firmly embraced it with my shaky, numb fingers. “Please hear me. Don’t send me away,” I pleaded, while concealing my growing anxiety. The significant loss of blood was beginning to take its toll. My teeth chattered quietly together forcing me to acknowledge my freezing misery. When the priest finally answered, I had been expecting him to douse me in excoriation, but yet again he was calm.
“What have you committed, child?” he asked with indifferent sincerity. I hesitated, but my conscience was burning a hole deep into my soul, growing dangerously close to consuming it without the slightest tinge of conviction. I had no other choice but to release it; to unravel the emotion bottled up for such an unfathomable period of time.
Clearly noticing my skepticism, he tried to console. “Surely one so young as you can not be capable of such ghastly things as not to ask for forgiveness.” His voice softened a bit to a more personal tone. It was gentle, but yet tantalizing for at that moment I truly felt ashamed. I wanted nothing more than for someone to tell me everything would be fine, but I knew I did not deserve such sanctuary. No, I deserved to suffer an eternity of hell and vindication, not the repentance I so longed for. A brief silence lingered in the air before I found the effrontery to respond.
“It has been a long time since anyone has spoken to me with such kindness and humanity, father, but surely even you, a man of God, would resent me if you knew the extent of my wretchedness.” My superior sat in utter silence for what felt like forever and a day, clearly contemplating every word I had confessed. Looking down through strands of knotted, disheveled blonde hair I could see my white camisole was well saturated with blood, which emerged from the open wound across my abdomen. The black leather barely covering my lower body didn\'t resemble pants anymore. Random slashes and streaks of red littered the once known vastness of my legs. My body now seemed foreign to me, nothing more than a crimson map of pain. Each scar an avenue leading from a broken past, each laceration a freeway of eternal suffering, and every ache a harsh reminder of the inevitable dead-end road I had been force to take.
“It is true that we men are wretched things,” he countered. “Surely you cannot condemn yourself for it is human nature to sin.” Unwillingly, my eyes shot up towards the confession window. Through it, I could see the blurry silhouette of an old man with white hair dressed in traditional attire. My eyes burned with exhaustion. I could not bear the old man’s unfeigned generosity. There I sat, a horrid thing, unworthy of forgiveness, but yet this benevolent soul was offering me refuge from my enmity. Squinting, I opened my mouth to fill the empty, intimidating silence that drove me mad with shame.
“Father,” I protested. “I have committed murder, the most ungodly sin.” My heart quickened its pace and I could feel it throbbing in my neck and brain. I expected him to condemn me or to cry out, but I heard no commotion.
“Father, Have you heard me?” I inquired anxiously. But again, there was that dreaded silence. When he did answer it wasn’t the response I had expected.
“Child,” he paused. “God still loves you.” It felt as if the room had dropped twenty degrees. My stomach started to spasm more vehemently now, but not from my physical situation and saliva weighed heavily in my mouth, seasoned with tears and blood. My eyes became pregnant with fluid and it stung corrosively as it fled down the crevices of my pallid face. His simple words sank deeply into my soul, embedding themselves as tiny slivers of unforgiving glass and then being grated into an already infected wound. But the word that choked the life out of me was “love.” That word, it still served a shudder after all of those years. How could I, a detestable killer be considered at the least even capable of being loved? I was damned. I was evil. I could take a life without the merest thought of regret, but yet I was petrified of that four-letter word. That single syllable of pain made my heart flutter in fear.
I began to shake more violently as my body started to go into a sort of physical shock from the lack of fluids. I pulled my arms up to clench my shoulders through my soaked leather jacket. Cold, Wet, and Miserable.
“What is the extent of your crime, poor girl?” I was jarred by the sudden sound of his voice. If he wanted to know, then I would let him do just that. “Ok.” And then I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to recollect the stampede of events that had trampled over me that night…


A.N: Will be updating very soon if I see that you guys like it, which means: I NEED and would appreciate reviews. It should get really interesting after this \"initiating\" chapter, now that the ball is rolling.