Page 116 of Heartless Heathens

I left them arguing about whether or not I should be going out alone and grabbed my leather jacket before quietly exiting the chapel. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they noticed my absence so I took off running as fast as I could, hoping that maybe Corvin would fight for me to have this time to myself.

I was saying it in my head that I needed to be alone but my feet took me in a dreadful direction. I dragged in heavy swallows of air, my hands on my knees as I stood in front of the grand cathedral.

I looked back before entering, still not seeing any of the boys and for some reason feeling it like a hot blade against my chest. I walked through the large golden halls and climbed up the grand spiral stairs that led to the east wing.

“F-father Frollo,” I said quietly at the open door of his chambers.

He glared at me, his loathing too visible to pretend like it didn’t sting.

I suddenly didn’t know why I was here anymore.

In my head, every reason, every thought, had previously made sense, but now that I stood in front of him, for the first time in months, staring at the man I so badly wanted to be my father in some way. All I could feel was a deep emptiness where seeds of resentment were threatening to grow.

Why had I brought myself here? To this self-serving man who claimed he was righteous but left me in that tower to rot? I had been aching for answers, but now that I was close to the source of all my pain and hatred, all I felt was the scars of my past burning open.

“Filthy, heathen whore. Why are you here? Is it not enough that you parade yourself all over campus like a vile succubus?”

“I came because there are things I need to know, Father Frollo.” I spoke softly, not bothering to raise my head to meet his eyes.

He’d stripped me of the confidence to do that long ago.

“Father.” He spat out with distaste. “I wasted years on you girl. And for what?” He poured the blood of Christ into a golden chalice and sloppily drank it down, the red liquid staining his chin as it dripped onto his priestly robes.

“I don’t understand.” I shook my head.

“Of course you don’t. You’re too stupid to understand anything. Not my fault certainly, I did everything I could for you.” I glanced upward to catch the sneer displayed on his face as if my existence had truly been so intolerable to him.

“Sister Sophia,” he shouted out towards the hallway and I backed up slowly away from him.

“W-what are you doing?” I asked him nervously.

“What you came here for dear child. I’m going to rid you of your heathen ways. Cleanse the impurity from your filthy soul.”

“That’s not why I came here,” I said, backing up just as Sister Sophia appeared behind me.

“Sister Sophia, the heathen whore has just confessed she fears she may have succumbed to a demonic possession. We must take action and free this poor wretch.”

“No I didn’t!” I shouted just as Father Frollo towered over me, grabbing my wrists into his hands and overpowering me.

“Take no heed Sister, it is the demon talking. Prepare the cellar. Tell no one.”

I kicked at him, screaming at the top of my lungs and cursing his name with every foul word I’d learned from the men who’d been living with me. He smirked, nodding over to Sister Sophia as if I was only confirming his accusations.

She turned on her heels to comply, ignoring my pleas for help.

“What are you going to do?” I yelled.

“Save your mortal soul, you foolish girl.” He grabbed a chunk of hair from the side of my head and sent me flying into the wall headfirst.

And then everything went dark.

I felt the cold, rough surface against my back first, before I’d even opened my eyes. The pain throbbing from the side of my head was strong enough to let me know it wasn’t water slowly dripping down my scalp that I felt. I groaned, aching to stretch before realizing that my feet and hands were bound. My legs were tied together, and something kept them secured to the rock.

I opened my eyes, hissing at the pain in my head. Candles lined the walls, not providing much light at all in the massive room though there were probably hundreds of them. My hands were tied above my head, and I couldn’t see what kept me in place. I was on top of a massive stone, covered in what felt like thick moss. In fact, it seemed like everything around me was rock, even lining the walls of wherever we were.

“Exorcizamus te, immundissime spiritus.” I heard him chanting not too far from me. “Satanicae potestatis. Vade, satana, creator et magister deceptionis.”

I groaned, wiggling against the stone and feeling the slimy moss underneath me.