Page 135 of Satan's Spawn

The sound of the door opening has my back turning steel rod straight, and I watch the shadow that enters the other side of the booth through tiny holes of the metal partition.

I instinctively drop onto the kneeler and interlock my hands on the small ledge, awaiting instruction.

But I don’t get any.

I try peeking again, but the holes are too small and it’s too dark in here to see anything on the other side.

I purse my lips, waiting a beat longer, and when the priest offers no greeting, I take the initiative to begin.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.” I let out a shaky exhale. “It’s been over two years since my last confession and attending mass.” I swallow, my chest rising and falling deeply with unease. “I have no excuse, other than the hole in my heart left by my father’s death that has kept me away.”

I dig through the corners of my brain, trying to think of what to say next. It’s not like I prepared myself to be stripped of sins today.

“I’ve consumed alcohol several times the past couple of weeks, and lied to my mother on numerous occasions.”

Lied to myself too…

“I’ve partaken in a scenario that I’m not entirely proud of. The kind that invades someone's privacy.”

And masturbated in the process.

Yeah, let’s leave that little detail out.

“I’ve also had intense…feelings…for a boy I know isn’t good for me.”

There’s movement on the other side with that confession, but the priest still remains silent, allowing me to continue.

“I’ve been having darker thoughts than usual, too, and desires I’m not at all familiar with, but am guilty of exploring. I’m a sinner in all aspects of the holy decree, but I have not found myself feeling any regret with my actions.”

A loud screeching of metal makes me wince, and rear my head back. “Father, what was that?” I ask when the noise subsides.

“Oh Rebecca, do you not recognize the devil’s hymn?” A low grit that can only belong to one despicable human says, making my entire body freeze with horror.

Except my heart, it’s pounding so hard I hear thrumming in my ears.

What in the actual hell?

How in the actual hell?!

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl, Rebecca Dawson.” The callous voice adds, amused.

I’m at my feet in record speed, about to escape when the door flies open, revealing Crayton Shaw darkening it in all black, that damn goat on his neck peering out of his V neck as usual.

Crayton shoves me deeper into the booth.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grimaces, shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone in a tight space with nowhere to go.

“Where the hell is the priest?” I cry out in panic.

“Afraid Father Stanley is…indisposed.”

I blink several times, still in shock. “What the hell did you do with him?!”

“Nothing he won’t be able to escape from with a little muscle and might.”

“How the hell did you know where I am?” I screech, taking as much of a step back as I can.

Crayton leans down close. “I’m everywhere, Rebecca. I told you there’s no escaping me.”