Page 37
Story: Broken
Aimed at the soft flesh of Paolo’s wrist.
I watch as he pushes the blade into the man’s forearm, and I freeze as what were suppositions cement into place and the reality of this priest’s dual nature reveals itself to me in full force.
I know this is my second ‘flight or fight’ moment of the day. A true ‘kill or be killed’ decision. Except, this isn’t my life on the line.
It’s Paolo’s.
He confessed to raping his niece.
He said she tempted him.
Temptation doesn’t go away.
You have to move temptation out of your life.
Even as I see Savio’s reasoning, something in me feels edgy. Like this is wrong. The violence that brewed inside me coagulates to a point where I have no choice but to grab his shoulder.
And I do it in the nick of time.
Paolo moans at the first whisper of the blade digging into his flesh, parting it like Moses and the Red Sea.
Savio flinches, his head snapping to the side so he can stare at me. When our gazes connect, my heart pounds, and just like at the church, the wildfire of our connection soars between us, but he freezes it with ice.
“Stop,” I rasp.
He jerks at my words and then leaps to his feet. The knife’s pushed into his pocket as he begins to walk backward, running from me.
From me.
Nottome, like he should.
I frown because doesn’t he know I’m not his enemy?
I’m here to help him.
Initially, I’d wondered about the unusual suicides I’d read about where he was posted, his frequent moves to new parishes—something the Church does when they have a problem priest they want to tuck away… Now, I have my confirmation.
Paolo moans again, making me jolt in surprise. When he surges forward, suddenly wide awake, I rear back in time for him to puke between his legs.
Though I grimace at the sight, I walk away, cautious with each step I take, not wanting to alert him to my presence. Sure, he’s as drunk as a skunk, but I don’t want him to think he got here by any foul means.
Though his retches make me gag, the stench a thousand times worse thanks to the super-sniffer nose that was a ‘gift’ after my surgery, I force myself to focus on Savio.
He’s all that matters to me.
I’d love to run after him, but I don’t. Not only because I physically can’t, but because he’s fast.
By the time I make it out of the alley and onto the main street just beyond, I don’t see him anywhere. He’s blurred in with the rest of humanity.
But he can’t run from me.
Not forever.
I won’t let him.
He’s mine.
Sins and all.
I watch as he pushes the blade into the man’s forearm, and I freeze as what were suppositions cement into place and the reality of this priest’s dual nature reveals itself to me in full force.
I know this is my second ‘flight or fight’ moment of the day. A true ‘kill or be killed’ decision. Except, this isn’t my life on the line.
It’s Paolo’s.
He confessed to raping his niece.
He said she tempted him.
Temptation doesn’t go away.
You have to move temptation out of your life.
Even as I see Savio’s reasoning, something in me feels edgy. Like this is wrong. The violence that brewed inside me coagulates to a point where I have no choice but to grab his shoulder.
And I do it in the nick of time.
Paolo moans at the first whisper of the blade digging into his flesh, parting it like Moses and the Red Sea.
Savio flinches, his head snapping to the side so he can stare at me. When our gazes connect, my heart pounds, and just like at the church, the wildfire of our connection soars between us, but he freezes it with ice.
“Stop,” I rasp.
He jerks at my words and then leaps to his feet. The knife’s pushed into his pocket as he begins to walk backward, running from me.
From me.
Nottome, like he should.
I frown because doesn’t he know I’m not his enemy?
I’m here to help him.
Initially, I’d wondered about the unusual suicides I’d read about where he was posted, his frequent moves to new parishes—something the Church does when they have a problem priest they want to tuck away… Now, I have my confirmation.
Paolo moans again, making me jolt in surprise. When he surges forward, suddenly wide awake, I rear back in time for him to puke between his legs.
Though I grimace at the sight, I walk away, cautious with each step I take, not wanting to alert him to my presence. Sure, he’s as drunk as a skunk, but I don’t want him to think he got here by any foul means.
Though his retches make me gag, the stench a thousand times worse thanks to the super-sniffer nose that was a ‘gift’ after my surgery, I force myself to focus on Savio.
He’s all that matters to me.
I’d love to run after him, but I don’t. Not only because I physically can’t, but because he’s fast.
By the time I make it out of the alley and onto the main street just beyond, I don’t see him anywhere. He’s blurred in with the rest of humanity.
But he can’t run from me.
Not forever.
I won’t let him.
He’s mine.
Sins and all.
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