“You,” the priest says.
“Yes, me,” Alice says and she’s every bit the strong, formidable goddess that captured me and will never let me go.
“You’re not his wife,” the priest says. “You’re not a married couple looking to move to this town…”
There’s accusation in his voice, but I think even he realizes how stupid he sounds.
“It is not right to lie in the house of God,” he adds in a firmer, sterner voice. I could punch him for that alone. Presumptuous fucking psycho.
“No, it is not,” Alice says in a very cold voice. “A lot of things are not permitted in God’s house. And you broke many of those rules.”
She comes out from the pew to face the priest and I take a few steps back to let her handle it.
She’s got this. She will be all right.
And if not, I’ll kill him right here and now, and fuck the consequences.
29
Alice
Watching Gael walk down the central aisle towards us, wearing his long black cassock took me back. All the way to my early teens when I was so afraid of him and what he was capable of that the mere sight of a priest, any priest anywhere, made me sick to my stomach.
That sickness came now too. Especially as I heard his voice.
He didn’t notice me at first, had eyes only for Nico as he approached us.
And when he did see me, when he did recognize me, a bolt of lightning shot through my chest. Anger—total, unbridled rage—exploded in my chest. But there was relief too. Relief that I will finally get to make my peace with the past, with all that this man had done to me, all the ways he’d destroyed my life long after he was no longer a part of it.
I’d been like a lump of stone before, as we waited for him to appear, even my mind frozen. I was afraid I wouldn’t know what to say to him. That I’d just stutter and look foolish. Like I did each and every time I tried to chase him away as a little girl. He just laughed and then hurt me even worse than usual.
He’s not laughing now.
In fact, I think he’s scared. I think I can smell it on him—a sharp, sour smell like old garbage left to rot in the sun.
“You got away with what you did to me for a long time,” I say. “But no more.”
He grins meanly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are you?”
Everything on his face screams that he knows full well that he’s lying. Gone is the smiling, welcoming priest. Here is the true monster that he is.
“You know me,” I say. “I’m Bianca, your special girl from way back when. But then again, you might not remember very well. Because there have been others, other special little girls whose souls you crushed. Haven’t there?”
He raises his hands and takes a step back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “I want you to leave now.”
I take a step forward towards him for each step he takes back.
“Oh, I’m sure you remember. The basement of St. Peter’s church on Sycamore in LA. The candy you used to lure me down there. The things you did to me. The way you smiled while I screamed in pain. You’re about to answer for it all.”
He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I’ve never met you before in my life.”
If I had a knife, I’d use it to cut out his lying tongue.
“I didn’t expect you to admit to what you had done, or to own it,” I say, still following him down the central aisle as he tries to get away. “You’re too much of a coward. Always have been. And you can’t possibly admit you’ve done something wrong, because you’re too crazy to admit it.”
He’s growing angry, I can see it in the tightness of his lips and the slight twitching under his left eye. I still know all his little micro expressions like the back of my own hand. We’re almostby the altar, he has nowhere else to retreat unless he pushes me away and makes a run for it.
