Page 26 of House of Payne
***
There aren’t many things in this world that can make me feel bad. According to my father, there shouldn’t even be one, especially in our line of work. But I felt bad about this.
It felt wrong from the start. The uncomfortableness sets in as I pull into the church parking lot. Churches don’t make me feel anything out of the ordinary. This will be the first one I’ve taken over, but it’s not setting me up to be a bad guy. Personally, I don’t think churches are all that holy.
Maybe that’s something I’ve gotten from my father, who raised me to be a ruthless killer capable of securing his kingdom. Nothing could be harder to swallow than the lessons he used to shape me into the son he wanted me to be…
They still give me nightmares sometimes. I’ve gotten used to the violence, blood, death, and terror I can invoke in people. But those early days stay on my mind; the days when I was still innocent and kind. I can’t outrun them. They’ve made me who I am.
To properly inflict pain, I had to first learn what pain was and feel it for myself. I had to be subjected to all the things he wanted me to do to everyone else. It desensitizedme to what’s normal.
Holy places hold nothing for me. No safety or redemption. They are like any other place.
It still feels strange. The church looks innocent with its freshly painted white walls and stained-glass windows. The pastor borrowed money for these renovations, hoping it would bring in a bigger congregation.
A money-hungry pastor is nothing new.
I walk inside and take in the rows of pews across a red carpet with lots of gold finishings.
This church is particularly flawed. I’ve heard things about it, and if I were the holy type, this isn’t a congregation I’d want to be a member of, especially with all the pastor’s shady dealings.
I saw him once at Mercy, and that is the least of his sins.
The hypocrite is bent in prayer as I silently approach him. It’s only when I’m standing right beside him that I make my presence known. I clear my throat, and he glances up at me, his eyes widening in terror.
“Please,” he begs as he stands. “The congregation is getting bigger. There’s more money offered each week. I’ll have your payment, I just…”
“You just had the money but gambled it all away and spent it on hookers,” I scoff. “Don’t lie to me, Pastor. We keep tabs on everyone who owes us, especially when they don’t pay. I can’t say I was expecting this. I thought you’d be a bit more honest than most of the men I deal with.”
“I’m weak,” he admits. “We’re all sinners in our ways, and I’ve made mistakes, but I’m atoning for them. I’ll get your money. I just need more time.”
“I’ve given you enough,” I reply, coldly. “I’ve been gathering information and photos for quite some time now. If you don’t give me what you owe, I will expose you as my first step. You’ll never work as a pastor again. And believe me, things will get a lot worse from there.”
That’s tame compared to the many other things I have planned.
“Wait!” he cries out. “Don’t do that; I’m begging you. I know you better than you think. I have an offering. Not money, but something I think you’ll like even better.”
That catches my attention. “I’m listening.” I cross my arms over my chest, certain that nothing he could offer other than the money he owes would mean anything.
Then, a young girl walks toward us. Her hair is in soft curls, and she’s wearing a white dress.
Is this man really offering up this girl? Who is she? And why am I so tempted by her?
“My daughter,” the pastor says, grabbing her shoulders and holding her in front of him. “She’s a virgin, and she’s prepared to do anything you ask. She’s been raised to be obedient. I’ll give her willingly to you as her father.”
Something stirs within me, and I am tempted. I have an urge, a need, to corrupt something pure just like I was corrupted. I want to introduce her to my world. I want to see if she stays quite so pure.
“She’s pliable,” he continued, noticing my interest. “Only seventeen, and…”
My fantasies shatter. “Excuse me?” I snarl, now disgusted at myself and how I desired her. “You’re telling me she’s a minor?”
“Well, yes.” The pastor’s face goes red as he stumbles over his words. “Technically, but…”
“You’re offering up your underage daughter to me?”
What a glorious man of God.
“Some men prefer younger women.”
