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Prologue
Levan
Two years ago.
“Levan.” Staring out the window as snow falls, melting much too quickly to accumulate given spring is around the corner, I wave Valerian Tamar into my office. The quiet house absorbs his footsteps as he crosses the expensive Persian rug I purchased because my little sister, Yelena, fell in love with it. I removed it from her room the day after her funeral, transferring it to the most used room in the house as a reminder of who we were, whom we’ve become, and why.
“What is it?” Beyond the veil of the snow, I see a spattering of stars sparkling in the night sky. When I feel nostalgic, I imagine one of them is Yelena. She loved astronomy and dreamed of going to space one day.
“Father Marcum is here.” My whole body stills at the name. I haven’t seen or spoken to the priest since my precious sister’s funeral. I haven’t even stepped foot in the once-comforting place of peace and worship since that day.
“Send him in.” I know it’s important if he’s made the trip to our isolated property. Despite my aversion to the place of worship, I have deep respect for the man who helps so many while asking so little in return. “Father, how are you?” He appears far more weathered than the last time we met in person. “Val, have Ana bring in some tea.”
His eyes roam the room as we’re left alone, bouncing off anything but me. “Father?” I prompt.
“I take my duties of the confessional seriously.” I nod. I never had a doubt. “Never in the forty years that I’ve devoted my life to the Lord have I ever once thought of breaking my vows.” I nod again, growing tenser with each word he speaks. Something serious must have happened for him even to begin explaining this to me. “Yesterday, I received confession from a man who claims to have committed a crime so dastardly that I’m unable to absolve him or forgive him.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I see it. I see his tortured need to unburden himself, but he is having trouble because of his commitment to the man upstairs. “Do not tell me the confession, just give me the name.”
Ana walks in with the tea before he speaks again, making small talk with the one person outside of my household that nearly everyone trusts. After tonight, I will ensure nothing terrible ever befalls Father Marcum, his church, or his flock because tonight, he has earned my unwavering loyalty until my dying breath.
Chapter1
Levan
Present Day.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” She’s back. I’d know her voice anywhere.
Abilene Bondar.
Looks like an angel. Innocent as a newborn lamb.
The atrocities occurring under the roof of her home have sent me into a rage unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. The things she says, the blame she places on herself for sins committed by those around her make me sick. But I can’t do anything.I shouldn’t do anything.
I want to kill everyone.
“Father?” her curious voice trembles.
“I’m here, child. Tell me your sins.” I always absolve her. She has nothing to feel guilty for. Abilene is as pure as the sun setting on the ocean. There is nothing she could ever do wrong.
“I– You see…” I sit up straighter, strain my ears harder. I wish this fucking partition weren’t between us so I could analyze the look in her eyes as she has trouble speaking to me.
“Go on. There is nothing you could say to shock me,” I encourage.
“I did it again. I didn’t mean to. I fervently try not to. Something must be wrong with me.”
“Did what?”
“I tempted…teased. Taunted, he said.” The tears present as she struggles to speak boil my blood.
“Tell me”—I choke back the fury in my voice—“everything. Explain to me what’s happened.”
Her faint sniffles I register through the tressed window have my fists clenching. “His hands, they were…” She clears her throat. “They were between my legs. Touching me in places I never wanted him to. I cried, I tried to be good, but he was so angry. When he grabbed himself, he spewed all over me in seconds. You must believe me, Father. I never meant to, I swear! I remain in my room. I stay quiet, out of the way. I never move when he’s around. I wear baggy clothing and cover myself from ankle to neck, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Watching as she places a hand on the partition, silently asking for support, I grow more furious with every passing second. Too much, she reminds me of why I’m here, whom I failed to protect.
For a year, I have been doing this. Pretending. Role-playing. Lying.
