Page 10 of Meant to Burn

I ’m shaking head to toe in this confession booth.

I should’ve never asked Father Jacob to give me a few minutes of his time, because now I’ve realized I don’t really want to talk.

If I tell him, if I admit to what I’ve done, I might as well pack my bags and leave.

I won’t be welcome here anymore, and that would mean losing everything.

A lifetime of community, of belonging, but also a lifetime of shame.

I shake my head, trying to dispel those thoughts from my brain, but it’s useless.

Father Jacob is silent on the other side of the booth, and the mesh separating us doesn’t make me feel more at ease if I’m being honest with myself.

Instead, it has me trembling and filling me with doubt.

Why would I do this to myself? To Azriel?

He doesn’t deserve this, right? He swore to me that he’d never desert me, yet here I am doing it to him.

No.

I can’t do it.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head and wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. “I made a mistake?—”

“Tell me about your mistake,” Father Jacob says calmly, though I know he’s just pretending. I’m nothing to him. Just another mouth to feed in this seminary. “I’m here to listen, Elijah.”

“That’s the thing…” I whisper, raising my chin. “I don’t really have anything to talk about. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

“How could you think that and then change your mind?” He tuts. “What sin did you commit?”

“I didn’t?—”

“You know only I can absolve you,” he continues, ignoring me, “but I need to know what you did for the proper course of action.”

“Like w-w-what?” I stammer.

“Penance. Prayers,” he replies, sighing. “I must know, Elijah. Confess.”

“I—” I shake my head again. “I had an unwelcome dream,” I lie.

Father Jacob hums, seemingly pleased with my answer. “And what happened in this dream?”

“I laid with a woman.” My voice trembles, and he clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to. It happened on its own.”

“I know,” he replies, “You can’t control what happens with your mind as you sleep.”

“So I don’t need to repent?” I ask with confusion.

“Oh, you do.” Father Jacob sighs long and loud. “I fear it’s worse than I thought. If you’re dreaming this, you must want it fiercely. It’s in your subconscious. Tell me, Elijah, have you been thinking of this a lot?”

“No.” I shake my head quickly, but even I hear the panic in my voice, the lie. “Absolutely not.”

“You can tell me,” he replies slowly. “If something deeper, something unholy , is going on…you can confess.”

“There’s not,” I reiterate.

I almost swear it, but then I realize that would make the lie even worse. I’d surely go to hell at that point. Not that I don’t think I won’t. I’m absolutely damned after everything I’ve done with Azriel.

“Very well.” Father Jacob sighs, and I can’t tell if he believes me or not. “Two days of fasting should fix you right up and Praying the Rosary five times per day for the next week.”

I gulp. “Yes, Father.”

Father Jacob begins to pray over me softly, and tears sting my eyes, then suddenly trail down my cheeks.

How did I get here? This can’t be my life.

This isn’t me. I’m not the one punished for sinning.

I would never admit to something like that.

No, I’d punish myself in silence. So when did it become too much for me to bear alone?

“May almighty God have mercy on you and forgive your sins, then lead you to eternal life,” Father Jacob says when he finishes his prayer. “Go in peace.”

“Thanks be to God,” I whisper, then all but run out of the confession booth.

I spend the next few hours in the library, studying the bible in silence and filling my journal with prayers about purity and doing the right thing.

I skipped dinner as ordered by Father Jacob, and though my stomach is growling, I ignore the pain.

I’ve done it before and will undoubtedly do it many more times.

I swear, I always feel guilty about something.

Grabbing my bible and journal, I make my way past the rows of shelves and stop in my tracks when I see Gemma.

She’s staring at me intently as well and raises an eyebrow.

Before I can run away, she blocks my path and crosses her arms over her chest. I swallow hard, trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart, but I think it’s impossible. I feel lightheaded.

“I know what you’ve done,” she whispers, and I stiffen. “I know you’re a sinner just like me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Azriel visits you, doesn’t he?” Gemma asks, looking around to make sure no one is listening, but there’s no one else here anyway. Just us. “You can tell me.”

“I don’t know who that is.” I raise my shoulders nonchalantly. “Excuse me.”

I try to walk past her, looking forward and attempting to ignore her, but she blocks me yet again. I huff in annoyance, then remind myself I’m a man of God and we don’t act like this.

“I know.” She grins. “You don’t have to admit it—I see it on your face. You’re glowing, Elijah. I know you’ve been touched by sin.”

Oh, God.

Please make her stop.

“Please excuse me, Gemma,” I say with a shaking voice. “I have to go.”

“As you wish,” she mutters, stepping out of the way. “We could’ve bonded, you know.”

I clear my throat and nod. “Maybe another time.”

She lets me go, thankfully, and I all but sprint to the living quarters. I’m tired of interacting with people for the day, and yet, as soon as I make it to the living room, Micah is beckoning me to him. I give him a barely there smile, a very fake one, and his brows furrow.

My room feels so inviting right now, and I want to give him an excuse, any excuse, to finally be left alone.

I just want to be one with my thoughts for a while.

But I don’t do that. Instead, I make my way to his side and sit on the couch with him.

Resting my bible and journal on my lap, I face forward and stare at the wall across from us, right above the opposite couch.

He clears his throat. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely, then shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“You can talk to me.”

“There’s not much to say, Micah.” I sigh. “Maybe I just need a distraction.”

Micah smiles. “I can give you that.”

I nod, smiling back. “Have you talked to your family?”

Micah wasn’t raised in the church. He doesn’t have a family that demanded perfection from him growing up.

Maybe that’s why he’s more relaxed when it comes to this place.

He follows God because he chooses to, not because he is expected to.

There has to be a certain freedom in that, a weight lifted off his shoulders.

The fear of failure is taken away because no one is pressuring him to go through with this.

But then that makes me wonder, if he’s doing it of his own free will, why in the world would he want to?

“Yeah,” he says softly, and I look at him. He’s smiling, his eyes shining with happiness. “Lucy just had her baby.” His sister. “She named him Luca.”

“I love that name,” I whisper.

“Yeah, me too,” he replies, smile faltering at my expression. I don’t know what I look like right now, but I force myself to go blank. “She said they’ll come to visit soon. They’re only an hour away.”

“That’s nice.” I smile, kind of wishing I had someone to visit me. But I’d never want my parents to come here. They’d just find a way to put me down in front of all the people I admire. No, that won’t do. I’ve suffered enough humiliation from them. “I’m really glad, Micah.”

“You can meet them…” he says softly. “I’d like you to.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” I reply, smile wobbling.

“Elijah, have you ever thought about leaving this place?” Micah asks me, and I frown. The seminary feels like home though, so I shake my head. “I have, you know. I don’t really know if I have what it takes to go through with this.”

“What do you mean?” I ask him, looking away. I know exactly what he means and why he’s asking me. But I pretend I don’t. I’m not sure why I want him to say it out loud, but I do.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he whispers, getting closer to my ear. I look forward, feeling his warm breath on the shell of my ear. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel this too.”

I gasp, staying still, not daring to move. “What are you saying, Micah?”

“I’m saying I—I like you.” His voice trembles slightly, and my eyes widen when his fingers wrap around my forearm. “I want to be with you.”

“Micah—”

“Let’s leave,” he says with more urgency, clearly sensing a rejection. “Let’s go far away and live our lives together.”

Oh, Jesus.

What have I done? Have I led him on? I’m not even sure anymore, but maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged him to speak up.

I shake my head. “I c-can’t,” I whisper. “I’ve been raised for this my whole life, Micah. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he replies, “I think we could be really happy. I’d make sure of it.”

“I’m sorry, Micah.” I sigh, extracting his fingers from my arm one by one. “I feel very tired, but I’ll see you in the morning.”

I make yet another mistake when I look at him—and what stares back at me makes my chest tighten. His eyes are bloodshot, and there are tears in them, but he looks away from me as they spill over. I almost reach out to wipe them off but decide against it. I don’t want to make this worse.

“Sure.”

I nod slowly, then get up and walk away.