Page 102 of Forgive Me Father


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Eden

As we make our way downstairs, the sound of lively chatter bounces off the walls of the house. Both Aiden and I are tense as we approach the living room, where the back of Eric’s head comes into view. I position myself behind Aiden, trying to stay out of sight.

"That's quite a tumble you took," My father jokes, his voice amused and jovial.

“What can I say,” Eric’s nauseating voice grates on my nerves, “I’m clumsy as hell.”

“That you are,” Roman chimes in, appearing from the kitchen with a glass of scotch in hand. His smile is as unsettling as it is calculated. “I’m glad I was there,” Roman’s gaze briefly flicks toward me before he moves closer to Eric and my dad, barely acknowledging my presence.

Finally noticing us, my dad’s smile broadens with an unsettling warmth.

“Come here, kids,” He grins, his invitation feeling more like an order.

Turning around, the sight of Eric’s bruised face is disturbing. His eyes are wide, and the tension in the room is palpable.

“What the hell happened to you?” Aiden hisses, his anger barely masked by his attempt at neutrality.

“He fell going to his car,” Roman explains smoothly, his tone dripping with insincerity. “Seems the elevation here didn’t agree with him.” Eric manages a nod in response.

I move toward the couch, my anxiety growing as Roman leans casually against its back.

“Well, I think dinner is almost ready—”

“Actually, David, there’s something exciting I’d like to share with everyone,” Roman interrupts with a grin that sends chills down my spine. My heart races, and anxiety grips my chest.

Roman takes center stage, his demeanor almost theatrical.

Roman’s eyes, cold and calculating, sweep over the room. “As you’re aware, Eden has been diligently fulfilling her service hours at the church,” He begins, drawing nods from everyone in the room. “What you may not know is the extent of her commitment. Today, I had the opportunity to review some documents she entrusted to me.”

With deliberate slowness, Roman retrieves papers from his jacket and places them on the coffee table, nudging them toward my father.

“This is a lease agreement,” Roman declares, his voice smooth and confident. “Eden and Aiden will be moving into a new place in two days.”

My father’s confusion is palpable as he scans the papers. “Roman, this isn’t what I intended when I asked you to guide my daughter. My children are not leaving this house.”

Roman’s gaze is steady, his voice smooth but laden with a gravity that commands attention. “David,” He begins, “you must understand that the path to true devotion often requires more than mere ritual. It demands sacrifice, a renunciation of the familiar to embrace the sanctity of a higher calling.”

He gestures toward the lease papers with a deliberate grace, his movements measured. “Eden and Aiden’s decision to move into their own residence is not a mere change of address. It is a sacred act of faith, a tangible manifestation of their commitment to God’s will.”

My father’s chair scrapes across the floor as he stands, his finger driving into Roman’s chest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing-"

"You want her to know true discipline?" Roman questions. "Then throw her into the water and watch her come crawling back to you. Do you think she can make it with that job? Do you think she can make it without you? David, this is merely a test. Let me help you see it through."

As Roman continues to feed into my father's delusions of power, I see his face calm with realization.

“Fine. You want to leave Eden?” David stands in front of me, his eyes cold, a mocking half-smile twisting at his lips. “Fine. See how long you last without me.”

The sting of his words leaves me reeling. I shake my head, trying to grasp the enormity of the situation.

“Leave your keys on the counter, and get the hell out of my house,” He hisses, his voice a chilling whisper. “Both of you.”

Roman’s gaze meets mine, his eyes narrowing with an unspoken command. It’s clear—run. Run now.

I grab Aiden’s hand, the urgency propelling us through the front door. We stumble over the bags I’d packed for us earlier, grabbing them in haste. Outside, Zoey’s car is parked, her hand frantically waving us toward it.

“Go,” I whisper fiercely. “Go, go.”