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? Confess, child. ?

Amour Doiski canted her head, as she shifted in the confession box. Her thoughts were scattered in so many pieces, as she licked the corner of her mouth. How could she confess, she hadn?t done anything to disgrace the Faith of God, but the Father had. She remembered exactly what he did. Her voice box cleared, as she began;

? Forgive me, Father but I have something more then just a confession to make. When I was a small girl, I was placed inside this same foundation. My family wanted me to become a Nun, I had disgraced them with my pity behavior. It had been so long since I stepped into a Church now, I?ve forgotten how to confess. ? Lie. The Italian slur, thick with the accent of Italy Mediterranean coast, as hands sifted on her lap. She was the perfect woman now, as in Gods eyes. She had a secret, and she was about to share it with the dear Father.

? Take your time, Child. May I ask your name? ? The Father answered after a few moments of compete silence.

? My Father named me after my Great-Grandmother, Amour. It?s Latin for love, and also Italian. I was born in Italy, and I stayed until I was fourteen, and I came to the states with my family. My brothers, and my youngest sister. My mother used to make lemonade every weekend, while my siblings, and I played out in the streets. My father worked on cars, and sometimes; he?d get into his law profession here, and there to help put criminals behind bars. Though, he had a secret; he sold drugs for a pusher, and my Mother would push herself to sleep with other men for money. It kept money in the family, and food on the table. Even at Christmas, we?d have so many gifts from what the secrets never told.

? Though, when I was sixteen; I wanted to do the same thing as my Mother. My brothers had all graduated from College, and they were on their own. I wanted to know what joy my Mother found in sleeping with others, and when my family found out -- I was sent here to become a Nun. My family wanted me to dedicate my whole life to God, and to work in his graces to repent. They didn?t know the Father would push himself on the multiple young girls, and boys within the convent. ?

She paused for a moment, as she listened to the Father. His breathing was fast, and it was heavy. It had gotten that way once she had spoken her name, and where she had grown up. At least he remembered. She bit down on her bottom lip, as she peered through the netting that separated the two boxes. ? I think it?s time that you confessed your own sins, Father Murphy. It?s time that you begged for God?s forgiveness, because you will not get mercy from me.?

She had it all planned out in her mind. She had come after the Sunday night Mass, and it was empty inside the small church. He was probably hoping for something devilishly sinful, but it wasn?t going to come from Amour, not anymore. He had stolen her innocence, but it was time for her to steal his life. It was all in God?s favor. Or maybe, she had created her own standards of God?s life, and of what he wanted done.

? You know what they say, Father. ? God does not save Murderers.? I think he does, but if only if the Murderer has justice to the killing, ? That was all bullshit, but it was reverse Psychology on the old man, as she stood. Her body, outlined in black and casted with in the shadows, moved slowly. She had folded her jacket in half, as she laid it against the pew. She had something in her hand, and it was going to be the same thing that would thrust the Father into pandemonium, or at least Hell as they speak about in the Bible.

She pressed her face against the netting, as she raised the small pistol. She had been smart, she used a silencer. Her features were dead, and she only blinked. ? Tell my damnable Mother, and Father that I?ll see them in Hell. ? She wasn?t scared, but she was surprised that it had taken her this long to track down the poor old bastard. She canted her head softly, and there was a small smile on her features, as she began to chomp down on the piece of gum that had been hidden underneath her tongue the whole time. The smell of spearmint would be the last smell that the Father would remember, that and the smell of sulfur. Only for a second would he smell the latter before it was ? lights-out, Father. ?.

The trigger was pulled, as Amour kept that smile. The small thump against the side of the confession box was all she needed to know that he was down for the count. She pressed her lips together, as she moved out of the confessional box. Her limbs bare, as she carried the jacket with her. Her body kneeled down in the middle of the isle, as she crossed her body with the holy sacrament.

? Forgive me, I have done your bidding; but I ask one last thing of your Gracious Son, may you wash over this body with pureness, so that I don?t get sick while I eat my game. ?

<font color="#000000"><font size="1">[ October 10, 2007 09:14 AM: Message edited by: white lines do not lie ]</font></font>

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ April 20, 2008 10:06 PM: Message edited by: white lines do not lie ]</font>