Just weeks ago, I’d broken down to Eric in this very room, spilling my life story to him, detailing everything my father had done to me, the feeling of his belt and fist permanently seared in my body.
"Eric, please-"
"Quiet, Eden," He growls, covering my mouth as he forces his fingers into me, my body tight and unwelcoming to their intrusion.
"God baby, I can barely get them in-"
Dragging my head out from under the water, I gasp for air, the ringing sound from my phone pulling me away from the memoriesof that night. Blinking back the pain, I glance around, reminding myself that I wasn’t really back in that dorm room.
As my vision clears, I see my phone screen light up again, the ringtone blaring on its second loop. I quickly wipe my hands on the towel next to the tub before swiping the screen to answer and holding it up to my ear. My hair drips water down my face and into my eyes and mouth as I sit back into the warm water again, almost dropping the phone down my front between my breasts.
"H-Hello?"
"Eden?" He questions, his voice low.
Roman.
"Oh. Hey, sorry I didn't answer sooner," I turn my head away from the phone speaker, hiding my sob, as another wave of pain rips up my spine from my backside.
"Did you need something?" I question.
"Have you been crying?"
"No," I choke, gasping for air. "I'm fine."
"Where are you now?" He questions.
I laugh, hoping it will hide the sobs that escape me. "Well, I’m actually soaking in my bathtub, easing some aches and pains.” That’s believable, right? Technically, it was the truth.
"Do you have any other suggestions for easing my aches and pains, Father?" I question, resting my head on the rim of the tub, expecting nothing from the man.
A low growl comes through the phone’s speaker before he answers.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes, why-"
"Put me on speaker," He demands. "And listen to me carefully."
Proverbs 6:20-22: “My son, keep your father's commands and do not forsake your mother's teaching."
Chapter 7
Roman
As I make my way down the corridor to the office space Father Kevin left behind, I can’t help but notice the eeriness of the cathedral this late at night. I peer through the open blinds that hang over the glass window that is embedded into the heavy wooden door. I see the picture of Mary Magdalene guarding the room as I fumble around in my pocket for the keys Father Kevin left for me. I step inside, David's words still resonating long after our conversation ended.
I thought Kevin would’ve told you everything.
Trying to figure out what David could’ve meant, I start rummaging through the cabinets, eventually finding a folder full of bank statements and invoice slips for Saint Michael’s. Laying the bank statements across the desk, the name on the signatory line next to Kevin Dowe’s immediately grabs my attention.
David Faulkner
Managing Partner | Faulkner & Associates
Every expenditure statement and invoice includes his signature next to Father Kevin’s. Tapping my fingers along the desk, I take a closer look at the computer before me, Father Kevin’s profile still set up on the device. All I need is the fucking password.
I look around and see what appears to be an old, leather-bound Bible tucked under a stack of other books on the edge of the desk. I push the other books aside and begin flipping through the pages. It’s written in Latin, probably older than the Vatican’s first secret.
