“I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation.”
The priest went silent for a minute. “Then what kind of salvation are you looking for?”
Now, in his mind, his fingers traced the scar following the path from her eyebrow down to her cheek before travelling down to trace the scar over her pouty lips.
“My salvation comes in a seventeen-year-old girl.”
“The rules, Lucca.”
“You know very well I’m aware we’re not to touch anyone underage.”
“Have you …?” The priest wasn’t able to finish his sentence, afraid of the answer he might hear.
“I am guilty of the worst sins, Father, but I’m not here to repent any sins I’ve committed. I’m here to ask for forgiveness of what I might do.” Will do. It was a question of when, not if.
“You ask for forgiveness for your future but not your past?” Even though there was a wall separating them, the old man’s perplexity was evident through his voice.
“The things I’m going to do to her, for her … I’m afraid will be the worst crimes I’ll ever commit.”
“If salvation is what you seek, violence is not the answer.”
Violence is always the answer.
“Like I said, I’m not looking for God’s type of salvation. My salvation will come as I lay my hands upon her, the very hands that have taken the life from the bodies of those who have touched her.”
Lucca went to leave the room, but the priest’s voice halted him.
“I’ve seen you sitting in my church every once in a while since after your mother’s passing when you think no one is here to see you. God has seen you, too. I think you want forgiveness for all of your sins, my son.”
“Maybe you’re right, Father. Maybe a part of me hoped to find a path to my mother again, but the path I’m on now will only lead me straight to Hell.”
As he walked out of the room, he could hear the helpless prayers of the Father and the beads tightening as he gripped the rosary around his neck.
The prayers weren’t for Lucca, but for the souls the boogieman was about to claim.
Three
The Being Behind the Door
Present Time
The cold metal table underneath her was a stark contrast to her burning face from what seemed like pointless crying.
“Please! Stop!” No amount of kicking and fighting was a match for what felt like millions of hands holding her down.
The laughter from the evil man who held a knife rang through her ears mockingly.
“Stay still, little girl”—he drew the knife closer to her face—“or it’ll just hurt worse.”
Looking at his abnormally large, black eyes, she was sure she was looking into the eyes of the devil.
The silver blade inched closer and closer to her right eye until it was mere centimeters from her pupil.
“Don’t blink.”
A tear welled up in her eye, making it even harder to keep her eye open. Her body began to tremble. She was going to blink.
“Don’t blink, little girl,” he warned her again.
The tear fell, and her eye started to close …
“Chloe!” Amo’s voice boomed.
A flicker of light entered her mind.
“This way, Chloe!” Amo pleaded.
Another flicker of light had her eyes shooting open.
Sitting up so abruptly made her feel lightheaded. The bed, along with the big room, was one she didn’t recognize, which made her heart pound like a drum in her ears. The last thing she remembered was pulling up to the airport, so close to her freedom. And then someone came up behind her, and she blacked out …
No! He’s got me, and no one knows I’m even here.
Chloe shakily stood from the bed, going over to the nightstand. She reached her hand out …
The devil will kill me this time. He promised he would.
Once she opened the expensive gold music box, the familiar lullaby began to play. It was then she realized that it couldn’t be hers.
Chloe stepped toward the huge window with a hitch in her breath. She slowly reached out to pull back the curtain.
No one will save me this time.
Pulling back the curtain, she held her breath as she was greeted with a beautiful garden, along with the white gazebo she had found herself under before with …
The door creaked open, and Chloe turned to meet the being behind the door.
“Hey, darlin’.”
The dark voice made her gasp for air. The blood in her veins slowly turned to ice, freezing her in place. Goose bumps began to trickle down her body from one look of those blue-green eyes. She tried to form a thought, her mouth even tried to form a word she wasn’t even capable of thinking, yet nothing came out. The only thing she was left with was simply watching Lucca enter the room, closing the door behind him.
Going over to the bedside table, she watched as Lucca ran his finger over the ornate box that was still playing the lullaby she had been only able to hear in her memories. He then slowly closed the lid, bringing silence to the room.