Lucca (Made Men #4)(4)By: Sarah Brianne
“Is that what you’re here for now? To find salvation?” The knowing voice filled the space between them.
Gray eyes stared back at him in his mind. “Yes.”
“Then you must repent, my son.”
“I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation.”
The priest went silent for a minute. “Then what kind of salvation are you looking for?”
Now, in his mind, his fingers traced the scar following the path from her eyebrow down to her cheek before travelling down to trace the scar over her pouty lips.
“My salvation comes in a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“The rules, Lucca.”
“You know very well I’m aware we’re not to touch anyone underage.”
“Have you …?” The priest wasn’t able to finish his sentence, afraid of the answer he might hear.
“I am guilty of the worst sins, Father, but I’m not here to repent any sins I’ve committed. I’m here to ask for forgiveness of what I might do.” Will do. It was a question of when, not if.
“You ask for forgiveness for your future but not your past?” Even though there was a wall separating them, the old man’s perplexity was evident through his voice.
“The things I’m going to do to her, for her … I’m afraid will be the worst crimes I’ll ever commit.”
“If salvation is what you seek, violence is not the answer.”
Violence is always the answer.
“Like I said, I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation. My salvation will come as I lay my hands upon her, the very hands that have taken the life from the bodies of those who have touched her.”
Lucca went to leave the room, but the priest’s voice halted him.
“I’ve seen you sitting in my church every once in a while since after your mother’s passing when you think no one is here to see you. God has seen you, too. I think you want forgiveness for all of your sins, my son.”
“Maybe you’re right, Father. Maybe a part of me hoped to find a path to my mother again, but the path I’m on now will only lead me straight to Hell.”
As he walked out of the room, he could hear the helpless prayers of the Father and the beads tightening as he gripped the rosary around his neck.
The prayers weren’t for Lucca, but for the souls the boogieman was about to claim.
The Being Behind the Door
The cold metal table underneath her was a stark contrast to her burning face from what seemed like pointless crying.
“Please! Stop!” No amount of kicking and fighting was a match for what felt like millions of hands holding her down.
The laughter from the evil man who held a knife rang through her ears mockingly.
“Stay still, little girl”—he drew the knife closer to her face—“or it’ll just hurt worse.”
Looking at his abnormally large, black eyes, she was sure she was looking into the eyes of the devil.
The silver blade inched closer and closer to her right eye until it was mere centimeters from her pupil.
A tear welled up in her eye, making it even harder to keep her eye open. Her body began to tremble. She was going to blink.
“Don’t blink, little girl,” he warned her again.
The tear fell, and her eye started to close …
“Chloe!” Amo’s voice boomed.
A flicker of light entered her mind.
“This way, Chloe!” Amo pleaded.
Another flicker of light had her eyes shooting open.
Sitting up so abruptly made her feel lightheaded. The bed, along with the big room, was one she didn’t recognize, which made her heart pound like a drum in her ears. The last thing she remembered was pulling up to the airport, so close to her freedom. And then someone came up behind her, and she blacked out …
No! He’s got me, and no one knows I’m even here.
Chloe shakily stood from the bed, going over to the nightstand. She reached her hand out …
The devil will kill me this time. He promised he would.
Once she opened the expensive gold music box, the familiar lullaby began to play. It was then she realized that it couldn’t be hers.
Chloe stepped toward the huge window with a hitch in her breath. She slowly reached out to pull back the curtain.