Page 63 of House of Sin
Bernadette paused at the far end of the hall, turning to me with a teasing smile. “Remember, Father,” she whispered, her eyes intense, “there’s no judgment here, only pleasure. Embrace it.” She opened the door with a flourish, revealing a dimly lit room, and inside it: Violet. She sat naked on the edge of the bed, her skin glowing in the soft light. She was impossibly beautiful, achingly so. My breath caught; she was everything I had imagined and more.
“Father,” she said, voice steeped in intent, “I’ve been waiting for you.” Her words were an invitation, soft, sultry, and irresistible. She rose, gliding toward me. She was a temptation made flesh, something forbidden, something I had long craved. And I couldn’t resist anymore.
“Are you sure?” I asked, barely above a whisper, my body already betraying me as I grew hard.
“I want you,” she breathed, her lips brushing against my ear. “Let me show you what it means to feel free.”
Her warmth surrounded me, her breath teasing my skin. I could feel the heat of her body pressing so closeto mine. Her fingers trailed down my chest, light, but enough to make everything inside me shake.
I should have moved away. I should have fought the demons that clawed at me from within, but I couldn’t. She pressed against me, her lips brushing my neck, and for a fleeting second, I imagined—no,felt—the release. The freedom she promised.
“Father,” she cooed, her voice low and sultry, coaxing me, pulling me in deeper. “You’ve wanted this, haven’t you? To be free of the chains you’ve bound yourself with.”
Her words wrapped around me like velvet ropes, smooth and seductive, yet suffocating. She circled me slowly, eyes burning into me, every touch a quiet dismantling of who I had been.
She grazed my collar, fingers ghosting over the fabric like she was peeling back more than cloth. I stiffened; her touch felt too intimate, too knowing. She saw beneath the robe. She sawme. I tried to speak, to remind myself of the vows I had taken, but the words died on my lips, drowned by the force of her stare.
“I see the man beneath the priest, Father,” she whispered, breath warm against my skin. “The one who’s tired of pretending. The one who wants to feel . . .aliveagain.” Her voice was honeyed and seductive, like a drug I had been craving for years.
Trembling, unable to look away, I swallowed hard, my throat dry.
“You’ve been denying yourself for too long,” she continued, her fingers trailing lightly down the back of my neck. “It’s time to stop fighting it, Father. Time to finally feel the freedom you’ve been longing for.”
She kissed my jaw, a soft, lingering promise. Everything inside me told me to run. But I didn’t. Icouldn’t.She took a step back, her eyes never leaving mine, and for a moment the world seemed to stop spinning. There was nothing but her, and she knew she had me. “Come,” she commanded. “Let me show you what freedom truly feels like.”
And suddenly I knew freedom wasn’t salvation, it wasn’t light.
It was darkness. And I wanted it.
Outside, the town kept on, but inside this room, everything had changed: the brothel, indifferent, had consumed another soul.
47
AS FOR ME AND MY HOUSE…
Father Frederick knelt on the floor, his back curved in submission, wrists and ankles chafing against the rough rope. His breathing was uneven, quick with panic and shame, and impossible to tell which was which. Still, his eyes clung to the figure before him, hollow with guilt but unable to look away. He haddescended beyond redemption, past anything he once believed himself capable of, and there was no return.
Violet stood over him, now fully clothed, her figure framed in the low light, every movement precise and controlled. He couldn’t tear his eyes from her, couldn’t muster the will to resist. She was the force behind everything he had once sworn to deny, and now he knelt before her, laid bare, bound, and broken. The hands that once clutched the cross now shook with the knowledge of what he had become.
I stood in the doorway, my face unreadable, my form swallowed by the darkness curling through the hallway. I’d witnessed plenty over the years, both within these walls and far beyond them, but this was different. This was rot. Father Frederick had surrendered himself completely, stripped of conviction and reason. Violet didn’t need to raise her voice or lift a hand; with little more than a glance, she had unraveled him. Now he knelt before her, hollowed out and lost, and she barely had to try.
A slow, cold smile tugged at my mouth. I studied the scene before me, refusing to look away. “Is this what you’ve become, Father?” The words cut through thesilence, and I let them hang there, tasting the bitterness in them as well as the satisfaction. His collapse didn’t surprise me; it confirmed what I’d always suspected.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words broke apart. “You . . . don’t understand.” He whispered, voice unsteady and thin.
I stepped closer and crouched until my face hovered inches from his. His eyes widened, whether from fear or the sudden clarity of his own corruption, I couldn’t tell. “Oh, I understand perfectly, Father,” I said. “And before the night ends, you will too.”
Anger, disgust, and even a trace of pity burned just beneath the surface. But underneath it all was something colder: the satisfaction of knowing this was the end he’d earned. This was justice. He had spent years preying on the vulnerable, twisting faith into something foul. Now, he was finally going to face what he’d buried for so long.
I stared into his eyes as he trembled. He needed to see it, every lie, every mask, every illusion he’d sold to the town. “The Lord says in Matthew, Chapter Seven, Verse Fifteen: ‘Beware of false prophets, who cometo you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.’” I let the words settle between us as I savored the sting of its truth. “Tell me, Father, do you feel like a wolf now? Do you feel your sins clawing their way through your skin?”
Father Frederick's face tightened with shame and fear. The self-righteous preacher, the man who had once held a position of moral superiority, now knelt before me, exposed.
“Please?” His voice broke as the word slipped out. He lowered his head, shaking. “I was supposed to lead them . . . I was supposed to be pure . . .”
I scoffed and stepped closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You were never pure, Father. You preyed on the innocent. You betrayed everyone who trusted you.” Contempt hardening each word. “And now? Look at you, bound, broken, and kneeling like a pathetic shell of a man before me.”
Violet, standing just beyond us, remained still, her expression unreadable. She was watching and waiting, her lips parted slightly as she observed how I held this moment.
