Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

There were many things I loved about this place, but being lectured like that wasn’t one of them. The masses bored me, the Sunday school monotonous, many of the priests distant and cold, and so many of the parishioners vile to each other Monday thru Saturday who suddenly changed their tunes between ten and eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. It was all such a lie.

But I liked the church. It was quiet. And you could be quiet here without the expectation of forced interactions.

Heading down the aisle, toward the back, I scanned the four confessionals, making sure no lights were on that signaled a priest inside. Since they were all empty, I walked down to the far right, choosing the last one, partially hidden behind a column and the one closest to the stained-glass windows.

I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside the small, dark cubicle, pulling the curtain closed again. The scent of old wood surrounded me but there was something else I faintly noticed. A hint of being outside. In the wind and water.

Sitting in the hardwood chair, I looked ahead at the darkened, wicker screen in front of me, knowing the other side was empty. The priests had all moved onto their other daily duties. Exactly how I liked it. I always did this alone.

I leaned down, my elbows on my knees, and clasped my hands together. The muscles on my arms burned with an involuntary flex.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I said in a quiet voice. “It’s been a month since my last confession.”

I swallowed hard, always more aware that when a priest wasn’t listening to me, I was. And believe it or not, that was sometimes harder. No one to offer me forgiveness but myself.

“I know you’re not there,” I told the empty air on the other side. “I know I’ve been doing this too long to keep making excuses, but…” I paused, searching for words. “But sometimes I can only talk when no one is listening.”

I drew in a deep breath, my shell falling away.

“I just need to say things out loud, I guess.” Even if I didn’t get the cheap penance that did nothing to absorb the guilt.

I breathed in the smell of water and wind, not knowing where it was coming from, but it made me feel like I was in a cave. Safe from eyes and ears.

“I don’t need you. I just need this place,” I admitted. “What’s wrong with me, that I like to hide? That I like my secrets?”

Damon, I couldn’t imagine, had any secrets. He didn’t brag about his dirty deeds, but he never hid them, either. Will, the other member of our pack, didn’t do anything without back-up, so someone was always aware what he was up to.

And Michael—our team captain, and the one I was closest to—hid only from those around him what he hid from himself.

But me…I knew who I was. And I made a concerted effort never to let anyone see it.

“I like that I lie to my parents,” I nearly whispered. “I like that they don’t know what I did last night or last week or what I’m going to do tonight. I like that no one knows how I like being alone. How I like fighting, and I like the private rooms in the clubs…” I trailed off, lost in thought, remembering the past month since my last confession and all the nights I’d lost myself.

“I like that my friends are bad for me,” I said, continuing. “And I like to watch.”

I wrapped one fist inside another, forcing the words out.

“I like to watch people. Something new I just discovered about myself.” I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the ends rough with gel. “Wanting to be in it, to feel what they’re feeling, is almost hotter than actually being a part of it.” I looked up at the dark screen, seeing just a sliver of it left open. “And I like hiding it. I don’t want my friends to know me as well as they think they do. I don’t know why.” I shook my head, thinking. “There are just some things that are more exciting when they’re a secret.”

Dropping my eyes, I sigh. “But as much as I get off on not being seen, it’s lonely, too. There’s no connection.”

Which wasn’t entirely true if you saw it from the outside. Michael, Will, Damon… we were all cut from the same cloth in a way. We all loved the wild ride and craved the high that only came from doing anything we weren’t supposed to do.

But me? I liked my privacy. More than they did.

And I liked it sordid. As much as they did.

I pushed the shame away, coming back. “So, anyway, I lie. All the time. Too many times to count.” To everyone. “I also resent my father most of the time. I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain about five hundred times the past month, and I’ve had pre-marital sex to break up the monotony of every waking minute consumed with impure thoughts.” I shake my head, laughing at myself. “Penance won’t make me stop, and I have no intention of changing, so…”

So that’s why confessing to a priest does me no good. Again, I like doing everything I do wrong.

But it felt good to admit it. At least I confessed, right? At least I knew I was doing things I shouldn’t, and that was something.

Closing my eyes, I leaned back against the wall and breathed in the silence.

Fuck me, I couldn’t wait for tonight. Thinking about the catacombs or the cemetery or wherever we ended up filled me with need. My mask, the fear, the chase… I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling my body heat rise.

The lull of the fountain at the back of the church dribbled softly, and I heard the echo of a cough in the distance. I didn’t know what I’d be doing first, breaking something, screwing someone, or fighting, but I wanted whatever it was now, and it wasn’t even dark yet. Tonight was the highlight of my year.