Page 5 of Savior

However, if the Vatican or any other clergy members learn what I’ve been up to or know I’ve been unfaithful in my vows, I’ll be removed from my post and relieved of my job.

But some days, I wonder if that would be a bad thing?

I scrub my face.

“You need to leave these immoral thoughts in the past. Purge yourself of Satan. A hundred Hail Marys with your rosary as you visually burn the imagery you’ve been lusting over should gain you the forgiveness you seek, child.”

There is a sniffle from the other side of the screen. “Thank you, Father.”

When the door closes on the other side, signaling she’s gone, I look down through the darkness at the throbbing length beneath my cassock.

I know I should have someone hear my confession, but I also know I’ll find myself with a one-way ticket to the lowest levels of hell to meet Satan himself if I do so.

So, I carry on. Repenting and living in the dark corners that I hope no holy eyes can see me within.

CHAPTER TWO

SLOANE

The surrounding room is chilly, and fear is etched into every sound. Darkness veils my vision, but I know I’m not alone here. Now and again, I’ll hear the faint sounds of someone trying to keep their sobs silent. But they’re not quiet enough. I used to believe in the Lord and all things holy and right. But now, I think that everything I believed in is shattered.

My dad used to call me his little beacon of hope. He said I changed his life for the better when things were dark for him. But then he, too, succumbed to his demons, and I was left behind without answers. Questions keep me company in the dark now.

How did I get here?

Why does my head hurt?

When will I eat again?

Why did Dad kill himself?

A silent tear treks down my cheek, and I let it go for once.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here or what time it is. I know I was taken at night when I was walking home from being out with girlfriends, who I assume have raised the red flag to my disappearance by now.

Hours fold in on themselves, and time passes as the world turns beyond my hell. With each passing moment, I wonder if the world is forgetting I exist.

If I’m being written out of history this very second.

“Please,” a choked sob breaks out, “help!”

“Shh,” another woman tells the first voice. “You don’t want them to come back here.”

Her words are wise.

Whenever the door opens and light spills inside our small holding area, one of us is stolen. They drop loaves of bread and water bottles at our feet whenever they take a new girl.

And they never come back.

They’re usually the ones who make the most noise, as if they’re thinning the herd.

“I’m ready for them to kill me,” the first woman cries.

“Don’t say that. You need to remain strong,” the second woman replies.

I scoff.

“Don’t let your faith waver,” the second woman continues.

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