ANTICHRIST | phan ✔️

hail mary, full of grace

"...because i want to tear out their throats with my bare hands, and murder is a sin, isn't it?"

once again, the church was deathly silent, the only sound being the faint rustle of lavender and churchyard weeds in the wind.

"yes," father lucian said, licking his paper dry lips, "y-yes, yes, it is."

"is this too much for you?"

something in the way the person behind the curtain was speaking unnerved father lucian; he was sure as hell he'd heard his voice before.

"do you want me to stop, father?"

it was almost as if he were teasing, mocking, threatening. father lucian adjusted the rosary beads in his hands, and cleared his throat once again.

"no," he said, shaking his head although he knew the person couldn't see. "no, go on, my child."

"it happened years ago," the voice began, sitting back in the booth, "years and years and years..."

by now, lucian was damned sure this person was toying with him, like a child teasing a bug they had trapped in a jam jar.

"...back in, what was it? jesus, it must've been 1970, 71."

"...no! no! no!..."

a cold draught seeped down father lucian's back like blood or ice cold water, and he cranes his neck to see if he'd left the church doors open.

"are you alright, father?"

whoever was behind the curtain sounded strangely pleased with themselves.

"i don't want to keep you, if you're busy doing god's work..."

"no, no, go on."

"...stop! stop! please!..."

"keep talking," father lucian reiterated, wiping the sweat from his forehead, shaking off twigs and hair ribbons and november 1971.

"there was a girl i knew," the voice said, softening a little, "a girl whose name doesn't matter, doesn't matter at all. and..."

there was the teasing tone to their voice, that left father lucian feeling as if he were standing on a knife's edge.

"...oh god, father, it's too sinful i don't think i can say but...she loved a girl. a girl - oh lord, where's your holy water?"

whoever was behind the curtain burst into unstable laughter, slamming their hand on the wooden wall of the booth as they did, as if they were possessed. an uncomfortable jigsaw was slotting together in father lucian's head, and he prayed it would have a piece missing.

"continue, my child," he managed to say, with his heart thud! thud! thudding like a headboard against the wall. "i-i'm sure this must be difficult for you."

"this girl," they started, in almost a growl, "so this girl loved another girl, loved her like hell, but others were...in love with her, if you can call it that..."