-VEA-

Every step that I took was heavy, like I had lead tied to my ankles. I was walking to some hellhole early in the morning when the sun wasn’t even up yet, when I wanted to be back in my bedroom, having the sleep of my life.

But well, keeping up the damn charade was important.

My godfather was only pleased when he found out that I had finally taken some steps to self-reflect, and the only reason why he thought that was because I had been going to those early morning sessions of church at school. I hated it with all my soul, but right now, it was exactly the thing that was keeping him off my back.

Fuck my life.

I walked, and though the tote bag hanging on my shoulder barely had anything in it, I felt like I was going to crumble under the weight. I dragged my feet towards the double doors of the church, and swung them wide open. I was completely dreading having to deal with the same boring people I saw all the time at these sessions. The more time passed, the more the wrath in my mind built.

There was the disgraced former Head Prefect.

On his knees, hands held up in prayer in front of the looming cross. The very sight piqued my interest, and I gently let the double doors swing closed behind me. I inched my way closer to him, and came up by his side. Dropping to my knees, I held my hands together like he was, and stared at him.

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He was in great distress.

His eyes were tightly shut, and his lips were trembling, moving at a fast pace. He was mumbling the same words over and over and I couldn’t make them out because of the speed. Large beads of sweat rolled down his temples, and stink wafted from his body over to my nose.

“Hey,” I said.

He instantly froze, then turned to me with fearful eyes. After a while, the fear dissipated and I watched as calm took its place.

“Are you alright?” I said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m confessing a great sin.”

I smiled. “So am I,” I said, and faced the cross. And made the sign that I had seen so many religious people do.

“That’s for Catholics,” he said.

I looked blankly at him. There was a difference?

He dropped his hands to his lap and sat on his ankles. “I might’ve sinned my redemption away…” he said in a shaky voice.

I looked between him and the cross, and felt the fringes of boredom setting in. I turned to observe him again, and images of the panties I had slipped into his pocket popped up in my mind. I wonder what could’ve been had it not slipped out of his pocket?

“So,” I said. “I received what you sent me through the mail.”

“What?” he said, looking at me with confusion.

“The underwear,” I said. “You sent it back last night.”

He paused for a long while as the words that left my mouth sank in.

“Well?” I said. His lips thinned.

“I didn’t send you anything in the mail,” he said finally.

That struck me like a tight slap in the face. I froze for a moment as the realisation registered, and I blinked repeatedly as I looked at him, his expression a still one.

And I watched as realisation of his own appeared behind his eyes.