SAINT

CHAPTER 1

Damon Alaister

'' I live in sin, to kill myself; no longer my life my own, but sin's; my good is given to me by heaven, my evil by myself, by my free will, of which I am deprived.'' - Michelangelo.

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Do you see the cruelty of humanity? I wondered as my arms bounded in tight ropes. They were cutting my skins into burns, that later would force me to confront the tattoos of my past. Their face covered in knitted masks, only allowing for their thin to thick lips to show and eyes of blue and brown. The masks not so grand then the girl in the black dress and skeleton mask.

I try struggling against the thick ropes but all it does is cut deeper making me hiss. My struggle and pain meant nothing to them, even my tight muscles were wearing down. I still build my body to look like the next Superman, but the training of violence had left my mind. The killer instinct was germanely cut off from the wires of my brain.

These hands have committed its treasons against God, but not anymore. The three men whose bodies seems who seemed too young and skinny. In my opinion they were short around a good 5'8 inch tall. They were too busy rummaging around the place to even notice me struggling. This wasn't their first break in, from the knot of rope that was binding my wrist. They had to be around 25 and subdued by the thing we call unemployment.

Their brown hands to a lighter olive color that turn red like the stove, pushing around the church for the donation's money kept for the church's development, maintenance and the campaign food drive for the homeless.

''My brother's, stop,'' I said firmly with compassion for these young adults looking for reprieve from their situation. Their ears played deaf to my words like rap songs that you hardly know half the lyrics to. ''Please stop,'' I said with slight anger and urgency, '' God, forgives those who stop,'' I shouted.

The men seem to stop mid-way with their eyes sending daggers. I may not have my killer instincts, but I still never feared the common man since I was small. They stalk down to me like cats to a mouse. I feared them not even a bit, instead my jaw clenches as their body reeks of cigarettes and alcohol.

The one with pretty dark hair like mine and light blue eyes same as mine, growled to my cold look I surpassed to them. ''This man is teaching us 'God','' the middleman said, with his dark eyes taunting me with his laugh. The man on the left whose blue eyes stood out against his chocolate skin with a glint of evil. His hands shake slightly as it claws my chin in his grip.

Addiction.

Depraved.

Finished.

''Do you speak, Father?'' the boy says as his lips is cracked from the insanity of wanting more than he has. ''Yes,'' my voice not so friendly but more dead than ever. The other two slowly try to cave in on me like shadows overpowering the helpless big priest all tied up. The man grips my chin harder making me hiss a bit, not due to the pain but the reflection of younger me in his eyes.

Helpless.

''If so tell us where you keep the money and we are off your hands,'' a spat at me with harsh tone. I wish I had left Kingsley here to lock up the church and not me, otherwise it wouldn't have been me with a scar at the back of my head and a splitting headache roaming down to my fingertips.

''No,'' My blue eyes penetrates his like the waves colliding in the middle of the ocean. The man slaps my face with his dry, thin fingers leaving me unamused and unhinged. '' A slap, son. A slap is never rewarded back. You have time young man stop smoking,''