The Forgotten Angel ✔️

Chapter 8: God's Servant

It was Monday night, and after classes and work, Luke went to the residence hall confessions. He sat in a small, dimly lit chapel with a basic wooden altar. Atop the altar was a golden cross and in front of it sat a priest who also wore a small stone crucifix necklace. He was an old man, his hair was whiter than snow, and his face looked like it had aged for nearly a century. Yet, his figure was not one to scoff at. He looked healthy, vigorous, and full of life even while at the tail end of it, well except for the nagging cough.

"Come," the priest stood and waved over to Luke. Luke closed the door behind him drowning out the light from the Opus Lobby. His pupils dilated to adjust to the low light setting of the room. When privacy couldn't be afforded through confessional booths, low lighting was substituted to provide the sense of anonymity.

"My name is Father Matthew," he coughed into his sleeve as he extended his hand to meet Luke's. They shook hands as Father Matthew cleared his throat full of a thick sticky substance. "Take a seat." They both sat down, and Luke was twirling his thumbs.

"My name's Luke, it's been a while since I've gone to confession," Luke said with haste. He was pretty sure priests didn't like hearing people say they haven't been to confession in a while, especially when every Sunday at mass they barked at their congregation to attend confession weekly.

"Well you're here now, so what's on your mind?" Father Matthew asked.

Where do I begin? Luke thought.

"I think I'm responsible for a student's suicide."

Father Matthew didn't flinch. "How so."

Luke recounted the discussion he had with Darryl, how he found out what happened to him, Darryl's history of suicide attempts, and then how Luke decided to leave his friend alone while he went out on a date. He was enjoying himself while his friend was suffering.

Father Matthew did not interrupt him at all. He sat there and listened, his eyes trained solely on Luke who tried his best to avoid them but never liked backing down from a staring competition.

"And I don't know what to do Father. Am I to blame?"

Father Matthew cleared his throat, which made the flabby skin beneath his chin wobble like a turkey's beak. "Did you take the pills?"

"No but..."

"Did you hand him the pills?"

"No..."

"Did you watch him take the pills?"

"No.... but that's the point."

"What's the point? That you were supposed to babysit a distressed man?" He paused as if formulating his thoughts. "Could you have done more? Yes, I believe you could have. But you also could have done less. And that's the key. You did something. You took interest in him, you cared enough to see him even after your date, to get him food, to convince him to come outside, to get him help. We can't imagine what he had gone through, but what you did over the past couple of days, praying for him, asking God for forgiveness, you're doing the right thing."

Luke didn't seem convinced. Father Matthew leaned in and Luke could smell his smoker's breath with such intensity that he feared he may get second-hand smoke by simply breathing in what Father Matthew exhaled. "Sometimes the person we need to forgive the most is ourselves."

Luke shook his head, "I mean why would a person do such a thing? I mean, what's happening at this campus? First the fire is somehow deliberately set, and then these two suicides..." Not to mention the flame I managed to conjure up and the weird face I saw in the pond. "Why is everything bad happening around me?" Except for Nellie, Luke thought. She's been the only blessing out of all this chaos.