SAINT

CHAPTER 2

''To see a candle's light, one must take it into a dark place.'' - Ursula K. Le Guin.

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Little Sinner

My lips blow against the tiny orange flame that was left. The heat slowly leaving the wax to solidify against my palms. I watched the three men's body stand in confusion and not dear like I anticipated.

Probably thinking I am a child because of my immaculate height and small framework, so easy to play with like their fragile minds.

I wanted them to pant and eyes stagger as my blade slices through their intoxicated blood. I had no agenda with these men whose lips smirk at my appearance and I smirk back, but it is evil and unknown. My personality is like this horrendous church that I was surveying out for information in the ground.

I had lost a few screws trying to end these grounds purging against the innocent including this bloody chapel who works under God's eye with no punishment. The very people that follow these worships of delusion has supported the devil under these candles of light.

However, I was sitting on the church stairs that I had sworn to end ever since a tiny video came out with a particular man I had been watching. The man whose visits to the church was frequent and well known by the people of New Jersey. Mayor Sebatian King lurked the shadows behind his 100 non-profit organizations.

Their biggest mistake was trying to make a deal with the head priest of this church in the woods. The same wood, where missing young children report were confirmed. A database that I had created with a programmer whose face hides under a red mask behind a light screen. This helps tracks of cases that are not attended to by the police, so I come in and provide a quicker result.

They have two motives: cash and jobs. He exploits the helpless by offering them these incentives, while serving the interests of the corrupt elites. Their satisfaction is not complete until every helpless person is subdued. The rich become greedier every day for the power and money they think they are entitled to.

Until me...

An anomaly...

An angelic face that hides a wicked soul...

I listen to their contemptible laughter reverberate in the corrupted church, resting my chin on my hands. A wicked smile crosses my face as I imagine their teeth decaying while I pulverize them to dust. I did not mind them taking the donations. They were welcome to do so. The donations were corrupted by the guilt of those who gave them, hoping to buy forgiveness.

I wished to cackle until my throat was raw and inflamed. They enjoyed tormenting our pockets, our lives and souls, and I desired to inflict agony on their final remnants of impurity. My darkness, dragging them into the abyss of hell.

I don't care about the size, age or trauma of those three men. They have crossed a line by touching what belongs to this church and to me. They violated the one thing I cherished, the only thing that spared them from my wrath. He caught my eye when I was lurking around St. Patrick Church, planning to reduce it to ashes. But he lingered there, faithful and devoted, while I waited for him to leave.

They touched him.

He forced me to stay and listen to his sermon about a soul finding the right path. I turned my head to him, ignoring the hyenas' taunts as they mocked me. 'Another little girl came to steal,' said the boy, whose skin was too pale to be human. 'She's pretty and looks like a doll,' I heard the drool escape from the middle one's lips. 'What are you here for?' they asked in the slang of the streets, unfit for the temple of Shakespeare."