Darkness engulfed him, it had been his only friend while serving time as his Father’s slave.
“If you won’t lead, you will follow,” he had said time, and time again.
After his speeches, they would come again. Torturing the man that he was, the human part of what he’d lived to be. The flesh and blood, man of the cloth, that wound up being the son of The Destroyer.
Clawed hands would rend flesh, fire would sear into organs. Death would come, but merely watch, as if knowing he could not die, or it saw that glimmer of something in the eyes of The Son, the glimmer that no one held onto the way he had for the years he had been locked away in glowing shackle and chain.
His hand pressed into the bridge of his slightly crooked nose. A boxing injury, earned years ago at Our Lady of Hope, while trying to teach some of the after school kids a better way to live than on the streets of Chicago. As a priest, he had the respect of the flock for working with the boys, keeping them from a life of gangs and teaching the importance of education. From the boys, he earned respect by keeping the peace in their families. If one of the boys mentioned that their mother had brought home a lay about, while she was off to work to support them, Greg offered jobs through people in the church with small businesses, or even hired them to paint or clean around the place. Some turned out good, others wanted nothing more than a new support system.
Saying all the right words when alone, but trying to spend increasingly more time away from the kids, or worse, getting closer with the kids. Truth had seen all kinds of men, helped many of them, and was proud of how they’d become members of the church, helped others find their way down the road away from a confused woman, and scared kids. The thoughts of his own mother and father, the ones that had raised him, with raised voices and domestic violence a common place, he had sworn with the collar he’d not stand by to let another kid go through that, if he could help it.
For nearly twenty-three years he had helped countless families. Set many onto the path of the straight-and-narrow.
Then a series of events lead him to see the world was more than man and beast. The bad side of good, the disadvantages of up.
He met her.
The woman he loved, while very much a woman, turned out to be someone from stories he had read as a child.
A fae, of all things, and it seemed he had glamoured her.
The trust was there. She had chosen him as one of the Misfits. Man of Faith, so named “Truth,” and that name stuck. Rarely did she use his name, and she found slowly he was the most stable of her friends.
Love was shared.
Fear was faced.
Never talks of a marriage.
Then a miracle.
The miracle of a life.
Created by a couple in love.
Then?
Hell.
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