“I can promise you I will not be going to Heaven. Even if I confessed every detail I’ve done, I still wouldn’t want to go. If hehas a divine plan for us, then he’s an asshole. Putting innocents through nightmares.”
How can he say that? Why wouldn’t anyone want to be granted entry into Heaven?
“My son, you don’t know His plan. He could have bigger plans for you. You could be one of his chosen ones. But you have strayed from Him.” I need to find the right words to help him. “What was the cause for committing your first murder?”
If I can get him talking about what caused this, then maybe I can get him to see what led him from the light.
“My first murder was when I was fourteen. I smashed a kid’s face in with a brick for trying to force my little sister into something that would have taken her from pure to broken. I did it without remorse. Without feeling anything other than joy for saving my family.”
He was fourteen? He was still a child himself. Again, I get why he did it, and I hate myself for siding with his motives. He saved his sister from something some people never come back from. A situation that would have shaped her life completely.
He continues. “I was brought into my grandfather’s office before the blood had finished drying on my hands. He sat me down and asked how I felt. When I said I felt nothing but joy for saving her life, I was introduced to my family’s real business. I was trained to be a killer from that day forward. I am the guardian angel for my family. I protect them and our businesses.”
He’s involved in a family-run organized crime organization. What knowledge I have is that this is very common for Boston. We’re a city founded and ran by the Families. There’s the Irish, Italians, Russians, Chinese, and probably more that I’m not even aware of.
Do I try to help him? Get him to see his ways are wrong? Or do I let him speak? Sometimes just saying things out loudrelieves the stress of holding them in. God’s plan to listen never felt this hard. I know this man will never turn himself in. I won’t even suggest that again. Do I have him say prayers with me? Clearly that didn’t help last time.
What do I do?
A knock comes from his side. “Father? I lose you again?”
I clear my throat. “No, my son, I was processing all that you said. It truly is a lot to hear. I don’t condone your way of life. It is not what I feel His way would be accepting of.”
“Ha! You got that right. You’ve always been smart, Aingeal.”
What did he just say? Did he just call me Aingeal? The name I was called years ago in a dark alley. That night I was forced to feel things.
My world implodes in front of my eyes.
Everything about that night has lived with me.
I turn to see the man opposite beside me but can’t make out anything except a shadowed figure. That’s it, I’m breaking the rules. I need to see if this stranger is the man from the alley. I storm out of the confessional booth and practically rip open the door to the other side.
There, sitting in the booth, is the man with the green eyes that haunt my dreams. They’re still so vibrant it’s as if they’re on fire.
The cocky smile is the first thing I notice. He’s wearing a hoodie, very similar to how he was dressed our first encounter. Everything about him right now is almost identical to that night.
“You,”is all I can say. We both know who the other is.
He stands up and starts walking out of the booth. As he steps forward I step back, giving him space so he’s not touching me. “Yes dear Father. It’s me. I was afraid you had forgotten me.”
“No. You took things from me years ago. I could never forget the face of the Devil.”
He cocks his head to the side, a devilish grin pulling his lips up. “Yes, Aingeal, I am the Devil.Yourdevil.” He steps closer, removing the space I created between us. He leans his head in and sniffs me. “You still smell as delicious as you did that night.”
I’m completely frozen. Just like I was six years ago. Afraid to move. Brain short-circuiting. Every emotion and feeling I had in the alley comes barreling to the forefront of my mind. This is the stranger who I watched end a life. Who forced me to make a life-or-death decision.
I’ve never been able to forget it.
Or him.
Fear grips me. The fear of seeing him again. Fear of what he’ll do to me. Fear of the way he made me feel.
His lips caress my ear as he whispers, “Tell me Father, do you hate me? Hate what I did to you? Or did I make you feel alive?”
What can I say? Yes, I felt amazing. Having his lips wrapped around my manhood, making me come. Making me feel sensations I’d never felt before. I was okay living a life of chastity. Denying all those feelings and desires. All before he came into my life.
“I stand by my words that night and now. I will keep your secret. I won’t tell anyone what I saw, nor will I tell your confessions.”
